Shipping: Little bit of Kate/Sawyer

Post: All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues

Kate sighed as she stared out at the ocean. She partly hoped that one day she'd look out and there would be a ship on the horizon to take them from the island and back to civilization. To rescue them. Another part of her was relieved that there was no ship or plane out there, knowing that if there were, it would mean being captured again.

Kate seriously doubted that nobody back on land was aware that there had been an air marshal with a prisoner on the plane. If they were rescued, it would mean being confined. Trapped in a place that she didn't want to be in. If there was one thing Kate couldn't stand, it was being confined.

She watched as the inhabitants of the beach interacted with each other and went about their business. By now, most of them were taking the events on the island in their stride; after all, things could be worse. There could be wild ax-murders on the island, or man-eating clams or something.

Kate smirked at the idea of man-eating clams for a moment, but then drifted off back into thought. Now there was absolutely no denying it: She was bored. There was virtually nothing to do. The water had been brought to the beach for the day, there was enough food, Sayid was taking a break from fixing the transceiver and Jack was taking a break from all of the hypochondriacs in the camps.

She could try to talk with Shannon… No… The Princess of the island wouldn't be able to go without two sentences without talking about boys or make-up. Neither subject was one of Kate's favorites. Maybe she could talk with Claire- oh wait… she couldn't. Claire was still missing from the camps, and Kate felt a pang of light fear for the girl. It was still unclear if Claire was dead or alive. And thinking about her only made the fear and uncertainty worse.

There was really no one else Kate would honestly like to talk to other than… well… Sawyer. But for one thing, she had no idea where he was. The second thing was- it would be pretty d-n awkward if she did and she tried to talk to him. Sawyer was so… closed. She didn't know much about him except that his parents died when he was eight and he was a confidence man. Kate didn't even know Sawyer's real name.

Kate sighed, and got to her feet. She might as well take a walk if she wasn't going to talk to anyone. Maybe she could walk up to the caves and talk with Jack… maybe. Kate found the path to the caves and started on it, walking at a fairly slow pace. About halfway to the caves, Kate stumbled on something embedded into the path.

Kate knelt down and examined the object. It was a book. A scrapbook or a photo book. It had rained the other night, and the rain must have washed away the mud on it or else someone would have spotted it before. Kate dug at the area around the book and pulled it free from the mud and dirt, dusting off the cover to see if anything was written on it. Nothing. No name, no letters, numbers or symbols of any type. It was simply a six by twelve-inch scrapbook.

Kate opened the book to the first page and saw some photos. She assumed that they were of Australia, because of the scenery that was portrayed. She flipped the page again, and there were more pictures of the outback. She turned the page again- and a look of horror slowly spread over Kate's face. Her hands began to shake, and she dropped the book.

Kate suddenly knew whom the book belonged to from the pictures on the third page. The first and second pages had been completely full, front and back, of pictures of Australia. The third page, however, held pictures of her, Kate. The pictures were of Kate in a painful looking position, with a cut down the side of her cheek.

Kate recognized this picture. It was taken the night after the Marshall had caught her. Kate had been locked into her hotel room, with the windows locked as well. She had figured that she wasn't getting out, and fell asleep a few minutes later. When she woke up, she had been handcuffed to the bed and her T-shirt had been removed. The rest was history.

It was just then that Kate lost all train of thought. If she were aware of what she was doing, she would have known that she had snatched up the book and took off down the path, straight back to the beach. On the way, Kate slipped in some mud and fell. Her hand flew out to catch herself before she hit the ground, and her palm was sliced open on a particularly sharp rock. Kate didn't feel the stinging pain of the cut, or see the blood seeping from it. She just got back up again and kept running.

Kate wasn't aware that she had stopped. She wasn't aware that she was now on a more secluded section of the beach, separated from the beach encampment by a line of trees. She just stared at the ocean for a few seconds, memories of a horrible night replaying in her mind. All because of those pictures. All because of those God d-mned pictures. Kate slowly sank to the ground, and drew her knees up to her chest. Her hands gripped the bottom hems of her pant legs while the blood from her cut stained them. She kept the scrapbook on her chest, and slowly lowered her head onto her knees. For the next few hours, all she would here were screams of the past.

Sawyer was in the exact same position that Kate had been in a little while earlier. He was as bored as heck. He could go and drive Jack to attack him again… No… he didn't want to have his fingernails ripped off this time around. Besides, since Jack was a spinal surgeon, there was no telling what other sorts of torment he could cause when given a sharp instrument.

Sawyer had already had his fun in the caves with Sayid earlier, picking up that razor like he was going to cut the guy or something. Mental torment was so much more fun than actual torment, not that he'd ever say that out loud to anyone. No need to make everyone hate him more than they already did.

It then occurred to Sawyer that he hadn't flirted with Kate in a while, and that most certainly never got old. Sawyer was still undecided on whether he was just after Kate for love or just after her for sex. Even if his flirting with Kate was for more than just sex, like for actual love, he wouldn't object to it if things got a little hot.

His mind made up, Sawyer went to look for Kate. She was probably at the caves, chatting it up with Jacka- the almighty. Sawyer couldn't help but envy the doc- he had Kate chasing after him, and Sawyer didn't. Who wouldn't envy that? Sawyer grumbled at the thought of Kate and Jack together as he walked the shoreline. The doc probably had everything- a big house, a nice car and a great life.

Sawyer's life couldn't have been more different. Since the age of eight, Sawyer's life had been a royal mess, and never seemed to get any better. Now he had to sit back and watch while the hero got the girl. AGAIN. Sawyer kicked at a piece of driftwood and then stopped. He was pretty close to the jungle, close enough to touch the dense leaves.

On the ground, nearby the driftwood was a spot of blood. Sawyer knelt down and examined it for a moment, and saw there were smaller drops of blood running in a small trail. It moved in a quarter-circle pattern, emerging from the forest and took a slow hook into a thin line of trees that hid another part of the beach. Sawyer followed the little trail into the line of trees, no looking up until he had cleared the mini-jungle.

When Sawyer did look up, what he saw mildly surprised him. Kate was sitting about ten yards away with her knees drawn up to her chest and her head on her knees. She didn't see him there, nor did she hear him. Sawyer smiled in a cocky manner and stuck his hands into his pockets. Let the games begin.

"Hey there Freckles," He drawled, walking up to her. Kate didn't move. She didn't look up, and she didn't make any noise. Sawyer sat down beside Kate and crossed his arms. "Aw, come on Freckles. Act any more unhappy and I might get offended." Kate still didn't move. Sawyer narrowed his eyes. "Hey Freckles, you in there?" Kate remained silent. She didn't shift even slightly.

Sawyer made an annoyed noise. He hated it when people just pretended he wasn't there. It really worked on his nerves when someone had the guts to try it. "Freckles. Wake up already!" He snapped. Kate didn't move, and Sawyer started to wonder if she was still alive. He leaned back to see if she was breathing. Kate's back was rising and falling slowly; she was still very much alive.

"Hey Freckles." Sawyer muttered, his voice losing some of its hardness. "You all right?" This time he leaned forward and tried to get a look at Kate's eyes. That's when he noticed that there was an alarming amount of blood on her pant leg. He quickly reached over and looked at her hand, wincing when he saw that it had been sliced open by something fairly sharp.

"D-mmit Freckles! Why didn't you tell me you got cut?" He asked sharply. Kate didn't reply, and when Sawyer let go of her hand it dropped limply to the ground. Sawyer stood up and started toward the beach. Then he turned around to say something to Kate, stopped, turned around towards the beach again and then back to Kate. "Just- just don't go anywhere, all right Freckles?" Kate didn't reply, and Sawyer threw up his hands in frustration. "Why bother talking? You're not gonna answer." He murmured.

He went straight to his little shelter and grabbed the bandages that Jack had left behind a few days before. Sawyer was suddenly glad that he had kept them. He hadn't thought that he would need them, considering that the slash on his shoulder had been healing pretty quickly, but he kept them on impulse. Now, as he dashed back to the secluded section of the beach, he was very happy with his impulses.

Kate hadn't moved an inch since Sawyer had left, and he hadn't expected her to. Sawyer slowed down, and stared at her. He snapped out of it and grabbed her hand again. Sawyer wasn't sure, but he thought he had felt Kate shiver when he took her hand. He shook away the thought and carefully cleaned the cut and bandaged it. Kate didn't look up, and didn't even whimper. The cut looked very painful, and Sawyer started to wonder if she was sleeping. When the task was finished, Sawyer sat back and stared at Kate for another moment.

"Freckles. What's wrong?" He asked. Kate, again, did absolutely nothing to acknowledge that she had heard him. Sawyer then noticed that there was something on Kate's lap. A book of some sort. He tugged at the corner to see if there would be a reaction. There was none. "You mind if I take a look at this, Freckles?" He asked. And to his surprise, he felt the book being pushed into his hands.

"Skip to the third page." Came Kate's voice. Sawyer was even more surprised to hear that Kate's voice was shaking. He glanced from the book, to her, and then back to the book. He slowly opened the scrapbook and skipped to the third page. It took Sawyer three seconds to register what was on the page, and half that time to throw the book to the ground as though it had bitten him.

"What in the H-LL was that?" He asked. Finally, Kate looked up at him. What Sawyer saw shocked him far worse than anything else he had seen and heard so far. There were long tear-streaks down Kate's face, and the area around her eyes was pink and puffy. Kate, the tough girl, had been crying.

"What does it look like?" Kate's voice was shaky and hollow, and there was a bitter sharpness to it that made Sawyer swallow hard.

"It LOOKS like somebody's sick idea of a joke." He snapped, looking repulsively at the book. Sawyer may be something of a pervert and an all around a-, but he did have some morals. Kate shook her head and stretched out her legs.

"Does that seriously look like a joke to you?" Sawyer shook his head.

"H-ll no." He paused. "Kate?" Kate looked up in surprise. Did he just call her "Kate"? "Is… is that you?" Kate sniffed and nodded. Fresh tears were now making their way down their face. Sawyer winced, but allowed Kate her dignity and turned away. He cursed under his breath at how any guy could be so sick.

"Who took those? If they're on the island, I'll wring their neck." He muttered. Kate sniffed again, but then she smiled.

"That- that's sweet Sawyer, it really is, but you're too late. He's already dead." She assured him. It didn't take Sawyer all that long to put the two pieces together.

"The Marshall?" He asked. "The Marshall did this?" Kate nodded.

"The night after he caught me. And I'd tell you what he did to me after he took the pictures, but if they-" She gestured to the pictures, "- upset you, then you might need to kill someone to let the pressure out." Sawyer winced.

"I'm thinking of a four lettered word-"

"Yes," Kate cut him off. "That one." Sawyer started muttering just about every foul word he knew under his breath.

"Why? Why'd he do it?" Sawyer asked. Kate sighed and shook her head, wiping her eyes.

"He was just the most- he was just a- He was just sick. I really can't think of any other way to put it." She said. Kate lowered her head to bury her face in her pants again, but Sawyer's hand shot out and pushed her head carefully back up.

"Don't," He said. "I can't tell you how annoying it was when you did it the first time." Kate wiped her eyes again.

"Sorry." She murmured. Sawyer looked away, towards the scrapbook. He stared at it for a moment, and then leaned forward to retrieve it. Sawyer didn't open the book a second time. He had already seen more than enough.

"So… there are three ways we can handle this: We can burn it, drown it, or I can beat the crap out of it with a heavy or sharp object of your choice. Which do you prefer?" Sawyer asked. Kate looked at him incredulously. Sawyer was actually being civil to her. He wasn't making any wisecracks about the pictures as she thought he would. In all honesty, Kate thought that Sawyer was going to be a royal jacka- about it all. Now he was opting to destroy the embarrassing and degrading photos?

A small smirk spread across Kate's face. "Depends." Sawyer grinned and decided to play along.

"On what?"

"Do you like your photos medium or well done?"