Sawyer Knows

Disclaimer: Don't own Lost

Rating: Umm, PG, PG-13?

Fluffy one shot sometime after Boone's death


The sky bled.

The sea was drowning.

And Kate suffocates in silence.

The shore moves forwards, backwards, right before her eyes, and she thinks it's like her life. Always so close to something, before it slips out of her reach. Just like that.

She twirls the tiny airplane in her hand, round and round. She clenches her fist suddenly, smothering the object.

Why, Sawyer doesn't know.

He watches her silently from the trees, a predator silently inspecting his unaware prey. The lack of firelight leaves only the moon to illuminate her, and the pale, ghostly light it reflects down on her gives her an ethereal look. Her curls lie messily down her back, giving an illusion of angelic beauty as the moon's rays bathe her.

But Sawyer knows.

He doesn't underestimate her, despite her seemingly fragile state. He's felt the darkness within her, experienced the tangible taste lurking underneath the velvety softness of her tongue. He's seen the light, but he can also see the shadows skulking around, following her silently, accusingly.

Sawyer knows what that's like.

She stands barefoot, her feet burrowing stubbornly into the soft grains of sand. She stares out into the horizon as if she can find answers, her forehead creasing slightly as she gazes intently. Sawyer wonders what she's really seeing, because it sure as Hell ain't nothing he can see.

Sawyer's patience wears thin; without her noticing him leering he is left with a desire, a need to break her from this reverie.

He saunters over to her, thumb hooked in jeans, other fingering his hair briefly before reaching her. She seems unaware of his presence, however, and she resumes her twirling of the plane. He moves behind her silently, snake like, and jerks his hands out quickly to pinch her waist and make her jump.

But she doesn't.

"Aw, c'mon now Freckles. At least pretend to be scared."

Kate manages a tiny smile, but it looks like more of a grimace.

"Have to do better than that Freckles."

She's never been more aware that his hands are still grasped on her hips. He is behind her, and she focuses on breathing in, and out.

He bends his head down, resting millimetres from the skin on the hollow between her neck and shoulders. His loose hair brushes against her, and the salt that manages to retain itself in hair no matter what you did had hardened the hair slightly, scraping slightly as it trails back and forth. His breath comes out in short puffs on her skin, and Sawyer can feel the heat radiating from her.

"I don't want to be next," she whispers, and Sawyer can detect a trace of vulnerability hidden in the shadows. He moves his hands around her waist and his strong arms encircle her fully.

"You won't," he whispers sombrely.

Sawyer knows.

It's not something that he can pinpoint. He just knows.

"Boone died today, Sawyer," she murmurs, and a wisp of tears floats on the edge of the words. "Who knows who'll be next?"

"It won't be you, sweet cheeks."

Sawyer's certain of this.

"How do you know?"

Sawyer moves so his lips rest on the cartilage of her ear. His breath is deliciously moist, and Kate fights the urge to shiver.

"Because we ain't got together yet."

Kate spins round at this jarring statement, mouth open as if to protest. Her moss green eyes are on fire with indignation, and Sawyer takes this all in his stride as he aids her whirling by rotating her by her waist using his arms. He draws them in, pulling Kate closer, closer, until he can see himself in her eyes.

She struggles, at first, and he can see the defiance, the panic at being so close to someone, the confusion, but he can also see the desire.

And Sawyer knows.

He draws her in until his lips are close enough to reach out to hers. She surprises him by bridging the miniscule gap, pushing herself onto the tips of her feet. Sawyer eagerly responds, snaking a tongue through her yielding lips, pulling her against him, almost into him. Her arms are trapped by him but she wiggles and manages to release one, curling her hand around Sawyer's neck, caressing the back where hair and skin met. Her other hand pulls on the hem of his shirt, insistently, and Sawyer smiles through their kiss. Gradually their kiss dies down from the frenzy they had reached, and Kate nestles her head against Sawyer's broad chest, sighing contentedly. Sawyer strokes her hair, and they gaze out at the ocean together.

"We ain't dead yet, Freckles. Don't forget to stop living."

Sawyer knows.

He releases her, reluctantly, and she squeezes his hand before moving back to stare into the sea. He walks away, missing the heat of her body already. Butt he knows Kate needs her space, and although he wants to push her, they have a funeral to go to tomorrow and for once he can tell this isn't the time. Not yet.

Sawyer knows.

The sky bled.

The sea was drowning.

And Kate breathes in silence.