Disclaimer: Sadly, I do NOT own the show "Lost". However, I do own my Original Character ( Kennedy White ), as well as her background, and her plot on the island.

Author's note: Rated M for some language, violence, and sexual content in later chapters. Mind you, there will be some events altered due to my OC being here. Yes, this is probably one of the strangest pairings in of all Lost Fanfictions, but I wanted to do something new and this is what I liked. I hope you like this story and write a review, I'd be grateful. Also, I'm open to criticism, opinions, and any ideas that you may have. Just remember that criticism is to help out a writer, not to belittle him/her. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this next chapter! :) By the way, the story has been told through Kennedy's POV (if anyone wasn't sure) so far, I will clearly inform the readers when and if there are any POV switches.

After the thing in the jungle seemed to be gone, it took a little while for people to settle back down. Jack told me to lay back down and get some rest. He didn't want me wandering around, afraid that I would hurt myself. I felt fine, but he just wanted to be sure.

I laid myself back down in front of the fire, but I couldn't close my eyes. I was afraid to sleep, I didn't want to have anymore of those dreams, I was deathly afraid of the dark, and that thing out there only made things worse. I forced myself to calm down as best as I could. I started to think about that man who'd saved me. I wanted to find him and at least thank him. I hadn't seen him since that explosion, it worried me that something might have happened.

xXx

Sleep was impossible, it seemed that I wasn't the only one who had the same problem. How could anyone sleep after seeing something tear down trees like a foot stepping on grass. I might have dozed off for a couple minutes during the night, but I was awake for the better part of the night. Morning came, not fast enough though.

With the rising sun, many expected to see a rescue boat or at least someone. There was no one who had come for us. This made me anxious, but I was still more concerned with finding the man who'd saved me.

By this time, I was allowed to sit up, but Jack wouldn't let me do much more than that. I felt fine. At least he let me take the bandage off for a little while. It made me feel dumb having that thing plastered to my forehead.

Jack had left me to go watch for any ships or boats. I sat on the blanket I'd used to sleep on, poking at the dying fire with a thin stick. I listened quietly to the conversations of the other survivors. Most of them were about that thing in the jungle, others were about when rescue would finally arrive. Then, I started to wonder about my parents. They would have noticed that I didn't call them like I said I was going to. They would notice, wouldn't they? The sad thing was that I wasn't very sure. The idea of it made me feel a bit lonely.

I looked to my bare feet, wiggling my toes as I did. When did I lose my shoes?

After a little while, Jack came back and gathered a couple things.

"Jack?" I called to him shyly.

"Kate and I are going to look for the cockpit." He answered without even turning his attention away from what he was doing.

"Do you need any help?" I offered, not that I'd be looking forward to going into the jungle after last night. I guess I did it because I didn't want to be alone.

"No, no. You stay here, you still need time to rest. You'll be okay to walk, but you're gonna be dizzy and I wouldn't want you to be in a place where you could fall and get hurt again." Jack said sincerely. He made me feel a little left out, but in a way I didn't mind. I'd probably just be in his way anyway. I nodded, showing him I understood. This would be a chance to look for that man.

I slowly worked my way into a standing position. Jack held my arm as I focused on gaining some balance. It made me feel a kind of embarrassed, I was like a child learning to walk. As he said, I was a little dizzy. Once he knew I was going to be okay, he let my arm go.

"You okay?" Jack asked, making sure it'd be all right while he was gone. I shyly looked at my feet and nodded. When he left I headed for the crowd of people, hoping I'd find my rescuer there.

Everyone was still talking about last night, describing what each person heard and what they thought the creature might be. I didn't want to hear about it, I'd actually like to forget it completely. Still, I hung around to see if I could catch the tiniest glimpse of him. He wasn't in the crowd. I looked around deserted parts of the wreckage, the smell of the dead bodies was almost unbearable.

I kept reminding myself of his description, that way I'd remember clearly if I saw him with the survivors . . . or maybe even the corpses littering the beach. Blonde hair. Well no, not exactly blonde. Almost a dirty blonde/light brown. His eyes . . . it was dark in the cabin, but they looked bluish green to me. He had a bit of scruff not his face, I think. Pretty sure his shirt was long sleeved.

I didn't know how long I'd spent searching, but the sky had grown dark with clouds and I eventually heard the distant rumbles of thunder. Soon after, it began to rain. It was just a drizzle at first, but then it was pouring. My red hair was drenched in minutes, as well as my clothes. Everyone started scurrying for a shelter. People were crowded under a wing of the plane that was propped against the mid section, others took cover under an inflated raft. I loved the rain even though it was so cold my teeth were chattering.

I went all the way around the wreckage, to the other side of the plane's midsection. I was watching how the sand stuck to my wet feet when I came upon a cigarette. It had been lit at one time, but not for long because it was nearly a whole stick. I picked it up before it could get soaked by the rain, surprised that it was still fairly dry. Now if only I had a lighter.

I wasn't a full-blown smoker. I'd just picked up the habit of an occasional smoke once in a while to help calm my nerves. I remember my first cigarette, it was right after I left the hospital and made it back to my dorm. I guess my last one would have been a few weeks ago. I was trying to kick the habit before I came back home, I would have hated for my family to discover I smoked on top of everything else I'd "put them through".

I closed the cigarette in my hand to protect it from the rain. I'd save it for later. The voice in my head would stop telling me how gross it was to smoke after a stranger. This cigarette could have touched anyone's lips. You have no idea what their spit might contain. Eww! I tried my best to ignore that little voice, I didn't care. I almost died yesterday. If I could survive the crash, surely I wasn't going to die from someone's abandoned cigarette.

"Gonna get sick." A deep voice startled me from my thoughts. I turned to the direction I thought it came from. Someone was taking shelter under a part of the mid section that had bended away from the plane, making an arch. It was dark underneath there and it was difficult to see the person. But I knew that voice.

"What?" I'd forgotten what he said.

"You're gonna get sick if you don't get outta the rain." He repeated. I could see the end of a cigarette wink in the dark.

I walked over until I was under his shelter. It was him. That long, dirty blonde hair dripping wet in his face. His eyes (it was too dark to see the color) watched me carefully. My stomach fluttered nervously as I approached him, my eyes tore from his and slowly went to my feet.

"Y' know, that wasn't an invitation." He muttered around the butt of his cigarette.

I looked up at him, his eyes still on me. It was a hint to leave if I'd ever heard one, so I started to walk back into the rain.

"And I wasn't telling ya to leave either." He added when I stepped back out into the rain. My feet stopped, my head was swirling with confusion. I turned around to face him, a puffy train of smoke passed from his lips.

Okay, so . . . am I suppose to stay or go? I wasn't sure if either choice was the right answer. Part of me just wanted to walk away, but I knew I had to talk to him. Against my better judgement, I moved back under the shelter of the torn plane exterior.

The man didn't offer to say anything else, only took another drag of his cigarette. I wasn't sure how to start. I was already so nervous, the cold was no longer the cause for my chattering teeth and shivers.

Go on, Kennedy. Just say it. Thank you, that's it. Two words.

"Um," My voice was meek and raspy. This wasn't going to be easy. Chill, Kennedy. Chill. "You wouldn't happen to have a lighter?" I held up the abandoned cigarette I'd found. At this, the man seemed a bit surprised.

"You're a little young, ain't ya Red?" He asked.

"Red?" I quizzed.

"The hair." He nodded towards my drenched, burgundy

"I'm nineteen." I bit my lip, trying not to sound defensive.

I gained a doubtful laugh from the man as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a Zippo. He flicked it open and sparked up the flame, holding it out toward me. I put the filter to my lips and leaned the cigarette into the flame and inhaled it sharply. That first drag gave me a tiny rush, causing my head to throb a little.

"Nineteen." The man repeated with a chuckle. It upset me a little. People never believed me when I told them how old I was. Everyone told me I never looked a day over sixteen. It was a compliment that I'd grown to dislike.

That terrifying sound from last night echoed through the jungle, I thought my heart had jumped into my throat. Without even thinking, I stepped closer to the man who had saved me before. Both of us had our eyes focused on the trees that fell. Whatever that thing was made that same groaning/mechanical noise that rang in my ears.

"What is that thing?" I whispered, feeling terror take over me.

"I dunno. Maybe it's Kong." He answered blandly before taking another hit from his cigarette.

"That's not funny." My voice was barely audible now.

There was a silence between us and throughout the jungle. Apparently, whatever was there was gone. When I felt it was safe enough to breathe, I let out the breath I'd been holding and took a drag from my smoke. The man standing very close to me looked down to his arm. My eyes followed his and I realized I was holding onto his shirt sleeve. I quickly let go, my eyes instinctively going to my feet.

"Sorry."

"Damn, Red. You warm up fast, huh?" He chuckled, causing my heating cheeks to turn pink.

"My name's Kennedy." I'd built up the courage to look this man in the eye. It was strange to think about, considering that he was much older, but he was attractive in a way.

"Sawyer." His cigarette winked in the darkness again.

Sawyer? Oh well, it beats Kennedy.

"Thank you, um . . Sawyer." I finally said after too much procrastination.

"For what?" The blonde asked, exhaling smoke.

"For yesterday. Not letting me burn to death and everything."

"Forget it." He responded quickly, flicking his cigarette into the sand. It seemed like he was being defensive about it, I couldn't imagine why.

"You saved my life. That's not something very easy to forget." I laughed a little.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if ya dropped it." Sawyer replied quick, his words even cut me.

I decided it was better to stay quiet after that, it seemed better not to annoy him. After all, he didn't look like the type to pull someone out of a wreckage. He looked like the type who'd watch you burn to death without having the decency to spit on you.

I wasn't expecting this from someone who had ran into, basically a ticking time bomb, to save my life and then act as if it was a bad thing. I guess first impressions can be pretty deceiving. I felt stupid just standing there. This Sawyer person made it clear that he wasn't interested in anything I had to say. I finished the cigarette until I was almost inhaling the filter, then I threw it into the sand and walked away.

{Sawyer's POV}

I watched her leave, involuntarily having a little bit of attitude as she walked. Nineteen. The number almost made me laugh again. She looked like a damn kid.

"Later, Red." I added after she was too far away to hear me.

I was surprised that she'd remembered me. She'd been so worked up yesterday that I almost expected her to go into shock. I couldn't bring myself to leave the kid there, strapped to a fucking seat. Still, the last thing I needed was for someone to think I was a damn hero around here. I just wanted her to forget about it.

Oh well.

Maybe saving her had its own perks. Hell, she was cute to look at, at least. She was a bit shy, or a lot shy. But I noticed that little attitude of hers spark up for a second. I'd like to see her full-blown pissed at someone. How much would it take get her all riled up?