It was quickly becoming unbearable to work with Charlie. What had, at first, been a mild attraction was turning into something more, something he didn't know how to deal with. It didn't make sense – they'd been working together for less than a week. Sawyer wasn't a fan of the whole 'love at first sight' thing.

But fuck, he'd held his hand walking out of 'Henry's'. He didn't even know why, he'd just felt proud, felt that they were getting somewhere.

The drive back to the station had been awful – he'd nearly pulled in at a lay-by at least twice, just to get this out of the way. Then he'd realise that he didn't actually want this to start with a quick fumble in the back of his car.

He didn't want 'this' to start at all. They were supposed to work together. So he'd done the mature thing – he'd avoided Charlie and hid in his office for the remainder of the day.

The next morning, he sat behind his desk, working his way through that file from forensics. He was looking for anything that might be evidence against Ben; just from that interview, he was convinced that it had to be that guy. He had a motive, and he seemed creepy enough to do it.

Glancing at the clock, he stood up quickly when he realised that he had a meeting with their 'Hugo' from the schedule in about twenty minutes. If he wanted to get there on time, he'd have to go now.

When he reached the front desk, he frowned when he saw long blonde hair and a woman's smiling face instead of Charlie's. He scowled, recognising DC Littleton. "Where's Charlie?" he asked as he paused by the desk and glared at her as if that might help change her into the person he was looking for.

It didn't, and she just shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Ford. He had to go and do a thing. He left this for you." She rummaged under the desk and produced one of Charlie's post-it notes. Sawyer glanced at it and recognised the hand-writing, before rolling his eyes at her and storming out of the door.

He waited until he was in the car, sulking, before he actually read what it said.

Good luck with Hugo! See you when you get back. You fancy going for a drink or something? Figure I'll need it after a day with the bloody coroner.

Although Sawyer was pissed off at Jack for poaching his constable, the sight of that absently scrawled 'x' at the end of the note made him smile. He was starting to love getting those notes from Charlie.

He folded it up again and put it in his pocket, before placing his key in the ignition and getting ready to go.

The Reye's household crept him out. It was a giant house – you could fit about twenty apartments just inside the first floor – and didn't seem to have any inch that hadn't been run over with a vacuum cleaner twenty times. The whole place had been purged of all dirt and dust.

Sawyer didn't like it as he sat in what he'd guess was the living room. It was hard to tell; it didn't seem very lived in. The walls and floor and furniture and everything was white. The decorator was probably going to something that looked modern. Instead, it just looked sterile.

Sawyer looked up as a large man entered the room. Sawyer had been expecting a… He wasn't sure. A millionaire. Someone with a suit, with a Rolex, with something.

Instead, there was a nervous-looking man in a giant t-shirt, with an alarming mass of curly hair. Sawyer stood up and took a step forwards. "I'm DI Ford; thanks for meeting with me."

"It's cool. 'though I don't really know what it's about. Sorry."

"You are Hugo Reyes, right?" Sawyer asked cautiously, just to make sure that he was interviewing the right person.

But Hugo nodded. "Yeah, that's me. I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"I just need to ask a few questions, that's all."

Hugo looked relieved. They moved over to sit down, Sawyer on the white couch and Hugo on the matching chair. There was a glass coffee table separating them, with a file laid on top of it.

Sawyer picked the file up, flipped it open and pulled out a photo of Sun. It was a nice picture, innocent. She was outside in some garden, holding a yellow flower and snapped mid-laughter.

"Do you know this woman?" he asked and passed the photo to Hugo.

As soon as Hugo saw it, his face fell and he looked terrified. "Yeah, that's Sunshine." He glanced up at Sawyer, with his eyes wide. "Is she okay? In trouble? Something? What's going on?"

Sawyer didn't allow himself to feel pity for him. Hugo was a suspect, even if he looked panicked and pathetic. Sawyer remained objective, or tried to.

"She's dead."

Hugo paled dramatically. His voice was strangled when he spoke again. "What? I didn't… What?"

"She's dead, Mr. Reyes. I'm sorry."

"But she… she can't be. I just saw her on, like, Sunday. She wasn't dead then." Sunday? She'd been killed on a Monday morning, about 2am according to Jack. Alright, that was nice and interesting.

"How did she seem?"

"I dunno. Normal. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Yeah. I mean… she was sorta distracted, I guess. She didn't seem as… into it as she usually was. Like there was some big thing she was thinking about during it."

Aw, fuck. Sawyer so didn't need to be imagining Hugo and Sun having sex, regardless of the level of enthusiasm. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He ran a hand over his face, trying to purge his mind. "Can you think of what it was?"

"No, not really. We don't talk about that kind of stuff. Real stuff. I mean, I could've. If I wanted. She wouldn't have minded. But… that was, like, my other life. When I was with Sunshine, I was someone else. She called me Hurley."

"So you don't know what was going on with her?"

"Well, no. Sorry, dude. I just know that something was. She left early. Usually, she leaves at about ten. This time it was, like, nine."

"Did she give you a reason?"

"Nope. She just got a phone call and took off."

Sawyer nodded; he'd get Charlie to start chasing up IT. They'd been supposed to be getting Sun's phone records for days now. Hopefully, Charlie would be free from Jack by the time Sawyer got back to the station. He just wanted to see him, to be honest. The sight of Hugo, this heart-broken man, made Sawyer feel uncomfortable and empty.

"Alright, thank you. Can you tell me how long you've known her?"

"Uh… I dunno. A while? A year or so, I think."

"Do you know the date?"

"No. I mean… I was at a big party. I can't remember where or… Crap." Hugo looked down, and his eyes widened again. "She's dead and I can't even…" Sawyer shifted backwards into the couch and hoped Hugo didn't start crying. Damn, he needed Charlie here to handle that sort of shit. "Are you sure she's dead?" Hugo asked hopefully, looking up at him again. "She might not be. It might be someone else, right? Someone that looks like her? That happens, doesn't it? I mean, it could happen?"

Sawyer shook his head. "It was her; we've had her husband confirm it."

"Dude?" The word should have been comical, but it shudder and shook and broke with emotion. That one word seemed to symbolise the end of the world.

Sawyer suspended the interview, suspended his professionalism, and moved over to give Hugo an awkward pat on the shoulder as the man started to cry.

Susan Lloyd glanced up at the clock on her wall as she ran over her case-notes for tomorrow. Right. She should have left for home about ten minutes ago. Sighing, she placed her hand on her head for a few long moments: Sun should have been here. They'd had a meeting scheduled to talk about her daughter. It just wasn't like Sun to not turn up.

To be honest, Susan was worried. She hadn't heard from her friend and client in exactly a week.

She shook her head, knowing that it was nothing. Sun would probably call tomorrow, apologising profusely for missing the appointment. There would be a good excuse – there always was.

Ready and aching to go home, Susan gathered her things together and stood up, picking up her briefcase from where it was propped against the table. She straightened down the grey pencil skirt she was wearing and walked out of her office, taking care to lock up behind her.

Her feet in their high-heels were killing her already: once she got home, she'd see if she could bully Brian into giving her a foot-rub. She doubted he would, but it would be fun to at least listen to all of the various excuses he would give to get out of it.

Down the stairs of the complex and out onto the street, she was soon making quick progress towards her car. As she started to rake through the pockets of her suit jacket for the keys, she felt a firm hand on her arm.

Eyes wide, she looked up to see a man in a white shirt, with a bland smile and thinning hair. Not someone you'd usually take for a mugger, but that didn't help to calm her down at all. "Can I help you?" she asked. His hand on her arm didn't relax at all; inside her pocket, her hand tightened on the keys.

"I sure hope so. Are you Ms. Lloyd?"

Cautiously, she nodded.

"That's excellent. I'm Ethan Rom – I need to talk to you, thanks. It's about Sun."

Feeling her mouth going dry, Susan nodded again. Her eyes scanned over the street; there was no one there. No one she could yell to, no one to act as a witness. With her heart beating much too fast, she had no choice but to allow Ethan to lead her away from her car with his hand still clamped too tightly on her arm.