It all comes back around (Kate)

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Pushing the branches out of his way, Sawyer slowly made his way into the jungle. The ground had grown harder under his feet as sand gave way to dirt and rock, but he could barely hear the leaves crunching as he stepped over the pounding of his heart.

What did any of this mean? If he believed Locke, they had all crashed here for a reason and they were never supposed to leave. The fact that they were all mysteriously back here – all of them – only strengthened this belief. Locke had been right all along... but where did that leave them? They were all back, but with still no idea what their purpose here was. Maybe Richard knew more than he was saying. Maybe he was telling everyone right now back at the bonfire.

So why the hell was Sawyer trekking into the jungle right now?

Pushing aside another branch, he stopped in his tracks when he saw her. Oh, right. That was why.

“Kate...” he started awkwardly, but his words trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to call her. He had pushed her away for her own good, maybe or his own as well. Fat lot of good that did anyone, but now it left him wondering what he had missed in the time since they’d last spoken... and if she even wanted to talk to him again.

[Kate Austen]

As if the shock of waking up back on the damned island wasn't enough, spending all that time alone with Jack, feeling the pull to be with him, to be honest and confess her feelings for him, had completely stressed Kate. They had walked through the jungle toward the ever increasing sound of the waves crashing on the beach and, while Kate enjoyed the feeling of security Jack was providing her, his ever present manner of being her hero, Kate had to question the way she felt - not just for him, but for the man she thought was dead, yet lived.

Emotions were confusing things. One moment a person could be happy, the next crying their eyes out. Likewise in one instant a grieving person could find the strength to laugh at a memory or light-hearted joke, lifting them from their gloomy stupor. Kate was finding one particular emotion the most confusing of all, a feeling that arose within every human being at some point in their lifetimes, whether it be over another human being, an animal, a possession. Love. It was a fickle thing, waxing and waning with the tides and yet not nearly as predictable. Kate had experienced it a few times in her life. She'd loved her mother, her adoptive father, her friend. She even fell in love with a man and married him, only to leave him in the fear of what she couldn't control.

Control. That's what Kate was lacking again. When she was on the run, manipulating men, scheming herself into someone else's life, pulling a bank job and making ends meet, Kate knew which was her next step. That same feeling of confidence, that feeling of making her own way in life, was fleeting as much as she had been from the US Marshals. Here, on this island, Kate had no control. Her heart had a mind of its own, and her mind was constantly struggling to keep up with it.

Just like when they arrived at the beach. One minute Kate thought her heart would melt in the arms of Jack, and the next she had lay her eyes on the man she had grieved for weeks. Sawyer. All that time she spent, Jack holding her as she cried while she was thinking of what their lives could have been had Sawyer not been killed. Was it really possible to love two men the way she loved these two or was Kate merely deluding herself? Was this her way of torturing herself for all the pain she'd left in her wake? If it was a subconscious masochistic desire to make herself pay for all her wrongs, her mind and heart were doing one hell of a job.

Kate saw Sawyer among the others at the beach and her feet had immediately paused. She looked at Jack, the hero who continued to tug on her heart, then back at Sawyer, the only man who could ever truly understand her. She motioned for Jack to go on, and then walked away from him and back into the hiding of the jungle foliage. Kate didn't want to meet Sawyer in the crowd where everyone would watch them, knowing who they were and what they had meant to one another in their other life here on the island. Kate wasn't even sure how she would react when Sawyer came for her, but she was confident he would. She just knew.

So while Kate waited in the growing darkness within the confines of the trees, she considered what she would say when Sawyer found her. Would she tell him welcome back? Or maybe that she missed him? That would be the truth but maybe it was too much. Kate paced back and forth, biting at her thumb as she pondered how she would react upon seeing Sawyer again. She didn't have long to wait. Sawyer emerged from the trees and Kate turned upon hearing him. She sucked in a breath and held it, before releasing it after a long moment.

"Sawyer...." Kate paused, unsure what to do or how to do it. Her heart raced seeing Sawyer so close to her - alive. He was alive! The grief Kate had gone through all those weeks, the guilt of not having been what Sawyer needed her to be, it all washed over her in that instance and Kate's eyes began to water. She looked away from him, lowering them to the ground as she kicked absently at the dirt. Kate stuffed her hands in her back pockets and made herself look back up. "God it's good to see you," she said, brushing away a stray tear before it could become obvious she was crying.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Sawyer had no idea what to expect when Kate turned to look at him. Did he just expect her to throw her arms around him like when she’d returned from Otherville with Jack? He sure as hell hadn’t expected her to run away like earlier that day.

Jack. She had left Jack to come out here; had she been expecting Sawyer to follow her? Of course she had, that hadn’t exactly been a subtle getaway. But while she and Jack were already back at the beach when the search party returned, they’d had plenty of time alone between times.

Taking a few more steps toward her, Sawyer stopped, still leaving distance between them. She looked different somehow. She was still beautiful, but something different. Thinner, maybe, or it could be just her expression, that haunted look she wore. Being the first to go it was easy for him to forget that those left behind had had to deal with the deaths of each one as they were brought back here.

“Ya ain’t gonna punch me in tha face like ol’ Jackass did, are ya?” he drawled with a half-hearted grin. Slipping the rifle off his shoulder, he set it aside and stuffed his hands in his front pockets. How had she reacted to his death? Had she missed him while he’d been gone? Or had Jack been there to swoop in and keep her occupied?

[Kate Austen]

"Jack hit you?" Kate asked with a small chuckle.

Kate hadn't expected to hear that and the humor of it helped ease the tension of the moment for her. She relaxed her shoulders a little bit. Sawyer wasn't dead. He was standing right here with her in the jungle of mystery. It was impossible, of course. She saw the body, she watched the casket closed on his sleeping face and lowered into the ground. The only possible way this was possible was if she were dead, too, and this really was Purgatory.

"No, I'm not going to hit you," Kate said and watched as Sawyer stepped forward cautiously. He looked so good standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets, like some school boy who was awkward asking out a girl. "I'm really confused, but .... I'm too glad to see you to try to prove you aren't there."

Purgatory. It sure would explain everything, Kate thought as she took a tentative step closer to Sawyer. She wasn't a huge religious nut or anything, but it was all she had to explain how sawyer was dead and now he was standing there talking to her. Kate wasn't complaining, though. Far from it. In fact, the tears of happiness still tried to work their way to the surface as they had just a moment before. Kate was just really damn good at holding them in.

Kate looked around at the trees, suddenly feeling just about as awkward as sawyer looked. Her eyes came back to meet his with a small furrow in her brow. "How did...?" she asked trailing off, the unasked questions of how this all happened and how they got there obvious in her tone.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

“You could always try ta prove I am here instead,” he replied with a lopsided grin. Slowly they were closing the distance between them, one step at a time as they spoke. It was like death and eternity and everything endless was standing between them, and even as they moved closer the distance only increased. It was a paradox, so close yet so far.

Taking another step, Sawyer lowered his head, his long hair falling in his eyes. He knew how confusing this must be for her. He’d had a few days to deal with it by now and he still didn’t understand what was happening.

“I dunno. Maybelline man back there claims ta have some answers, but he ain’t too keen to share. I think he gets a kick outta speakin’ in riddles and confusin’ us... as if we ain’t confused enough,” he said, raising his gaze back to Kate’s face. The furrow in her brow, the way her lips parted just slightly... he remembered everything about her, no matter how long or far they’d been apart.

[Kate Austen]

Kate snickered a little bit when Sawyer mentioned she could try to prove he was there. She wanted to. In fact, her heart ached to go embrace Sawyer, to feel the warmth of his body in her arms. Kate didn't know what was holding her back, but she did know that her feet wouldn't permit her to sail over the green mass of leaves beneath her to envelop Sawyer in her arms.

So Kate stood still while Sawyer advanced again. He spoke of "Maybelline Man" and she knew he had to be talking about Richard, or at least she thought that was his name. Kate felt mildly confused right now, what with everything that was going on, and she wasn't even sure any of this was real but she had a clue. After all, Jack felt incredibly real to her as he held her in his arms.

It was at that thought that Kate realized what she was afraid of. So sure was she that Sawyer couldn't be real that Kate thought that if she tried to touch him, she would realize this was all a dream. His body might be cold, or her arms could grasp at air. If that happened, Kate was sure she would break down, all her overwhelming grief realized once more, just as it so often had been back at the Roosevelt. Heck, maybe she was still at the Roosevelt...

"Yeah, the Others were never very helpful," Kate replied, her mind working the entire time, wondering if she could make herself wake up before her disappointment of finding out Sawyer was not really there. She looked up at him with longing in her eyes, more green than blue today because of her surroundings. Kate bit her lip again, a nervous habit she barely noticed. "Are you... are you really here, Sawyer?"

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

They had had their awkward moments, and plenty of them, but none as heavy as this. He had avoided her for days back in Los Angeles, and then he had woken up here. What had transpired back in the real world in his absence? Had she gone back to jail? Had Jack made his move with Sawyer out of the picture? Had anyone even noticed or cared that he was gone?

That last question was unnecessary, he knew that much. No matter what Kate felt for Jack, it was obvious the southern man’s supposed death had taken a toll on her. Taking his hands out of his pockets, Sawyer patted the front of his shirt. “Last time I checked, yeah,” he joked half heartedly. Alleviating a situation with humour could only go so far, though. It was obvious that Kate needed something more tangible to grasp. He took another step forward.

“I dunno what powers this hunk’a land has, how it can kill us in one world and bring us back alive here, but we’re back. We’re all back,” he said, his feet seeming to move of their own accord now until he was standing just inches in front of her. He brought a hand up slowly, lingering by her cheek for a moment before lightly brushing a loose strand of hair back from her face like a gentle wind.

[Kate Austen]

Kate held her breath as Sawyer walked toward her, the humor he tried to exude in his tone a moment before had all but disappeared. He was good at that most of the time, using his wit to dissipate tension in a situation although sometimes it added to it and backfired. This time, however, it appeared Sawyer understood that humor was not what Kate needed.

He moved forward, slowly, calculated almost. It was as if Sawyer realized how very important this moment was to Kate, that she might very well run away if he didn't play his cards right. And she would have had her feet obeyed her racing heart. Instead, as Sawyer approached her, Kate sucked in the air around her and couldn't exhale. She was scared, frightened of the thought this wasn't real, yet even more frightened if it was.

With what appeared to be mild trepidation, Sawyer slowly raised his hand toward Kate's face and the woman thought she may well pass out from the suspense. The moment of truth was approaching and she could not escape it. She didn't want to. Kate needed to know if her grief had caused her a psychotic break and she was seeing ghosts or if his hand would feel warm to her skin, if by some inexplicable miracle Sawyer was alive.

Brushing the hair from her face gently, Kate felt the faintest touch of his fingers as they slid slowly over her cheek. They weren't cold, but neither could she tell if they were warm. The unknown was causing her heart to ache, the soul to quake. Kate could take waiting for her answer no longer and finally took the initiative to tilt her head , pressing her face into Sawyer's hand and making herself know if he was alive, if he held warmth, if this was truly real.

He was warm.

Kate exhaled in a burst of emotion that sounded a bit like a relieved chuckle as a small smile crossed her face. Sawyer was alive. She could feel him touching her, feel the blood that caused the warmth in his hand and the calloused hand that knew its share of work during their last days on the island previously. Kate wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry. She wanted to climb high in a tree and shout from the top of her lungs. Sawyer was alive!

But only one emotion won out, only one action could escape from the bewildered but ecstatic woman who stood nuzzling the hand of a man who once was dead yet lived. She cried. Standing there staring into the eyes of a man Kate knew she loved but to whom she could never commit, a silent tear stole it's way down her face followed by more, the relieved smile still there with a look of disbelief and awe. A look of love.

"You're alive...."