Walking After Midnight, chapter 6
Title: Walking After Midnight, chapter 6
Rating: PG-13/T
Spoilers: Up to the season 3 finale.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or the characters thereof. I'm just borrowing.
Summary: Kate/Sawyer, back on the beach, immediately following the finale.
chapter 5
Previously, on Lost...
“Juliet. Please. I need to know.”
-----
Juliet merely nods, which Kate finds more than a little maddening. She bites her lip, looking out at the lightening sea rather than at the woman beside her. “You didn't just come for Sun. You came for me, too. To see if I'm pregnant.”
“And you think you are?” Again the calm, even voice.
Kate lets her irritation seep through in her tone. “It's not impossible.” Surely Juliet knows this; after all, she'd been the one to inform Kate that their grief-stricken, passionate tryst in the cage had been recorded for all, including Jack, to see. A slight blush tints her cheekbones as she thinks about it, feeling exposed. “You took Sun to that abandoned medical station. You have the equipment...somewhere in there.” A deep breath. “Take me. I think I deserve at least that.”
The other woman is silent for several long moments, then nods. “All right.”
Is that all she can say? Kate pushes herself up to stand, arms folded in front of her as she looks down at the blond woman. “Tonight. Or I'm going alone.”
An arched eyebrow. “You won't find what you need there alone.”
“Well, then you'd better come with me.” She turns on her heel, as well as she can on the sand, and makes her way back to the tent.
He's still sleeping when she ducks inside, and quietly, gently, she lays down with him, tucking herself under his arm, back to his front. He stirs, murmuring her nickname in a voice thick with sleep. Feeling selfish, in need of comfort, she shushes him softly. “Go back to sleep...” She pulls his arm tighter around her, holding on as if to a lifeline.
-----
She spends the day on edge, avoiding Juliet. It actually surprises no one; it's no secret that Kate trusts Juliet just about as much as she trusts the island's resident monster. No one can tell the difference, that today she's actively avoiding the woman, except perhaps the avoidee herself.
Or so she thinks.
Sawyer is in his usual reading spot, brow crinkled as he watches her. His book is open on his lap but he's not reading, his glasses pushed up on his head so he can see across the camp to where she's talking with Claire and Sun. She's playing with her hands a lot, then tying and re-tying her ponytail, and his brow furrows deeper. He's never known her to look so...nervous. Frightened, to be sure. Determined, angry, confused. Scared shitless, he'd even say. But not nervous.
Then he sees her laugh, and though from across the beach he can't tell if it's a genuine expression, he relaxes, shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Women.”
Later, he follows her at a distance and stands in the shelter of the trees as she weeds in Sun's garden. He looks for evidence of more nervousness but now she just looks tired as she sighs and looks up, leaving a streak of dirt across her forehead as she wipes her brow. He smirks a little to himself as he's reminded of their work in the Others' camp, the way she'd looked, sweaty and tired but unstoppable in that flimsy dress. He'd had to kiss her then, and his previous worry for her is essentially forgotten as he recalls how she'd tasted, like sweat and dirt and exhaustion and strawberries.
“I can see you, you know.”
He jumps when she speaks, the trees and underbrush rustling loudly as he stumbles out into the clearing. “Damn, Freckles, tryin' to give me a heart attack?”
She looks up at him from her kneeling position. “You're the one lurking in the trees.”
“Lurkin'? I ain't lurkin'.”
A nod. “You're lucky I heard you following me, or I might have had to throw another rock.” She looks meaningfully at his knee.
He winces at the memory. “You sure you ain't crazy?”
She arches an eyebrow but doesn't otherwise respond to the question. “So what are you doing here, if you're not lurking? Decide to contribute to society? Pull some weeds?” She smirks, and yanks a hardy-looking weed from the soil with a soft grunt, tossing the offending plant over her shoulder, into the underbrush.
“You puttin' me to work, Sassafrass?”
“I should.” She retorts, sitting back on her heels to survey her work. “For as long as you were standing there, I could've had this done in half the time if I'd had help.”
He can't help but grin as he watches her, tendrils of hair framing her sweaty face, her tank top clinging suggestively to her body. “Forget the weeds, Freckles.” He stoops to kneel next to her, pulling her to him, his breath hot against her cheek. “Don't s'pose you brought that dress back with you...”
“What?” She pulls away, forehead crinkled in confusion.
“Nothin'.” He silences her protest with a deep kiss, hand cradling the back of her head as he lays her down.
chapter 7
Rating: PG-13/T
Spoilers: Up to the season 3 finale.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or the characters thereof. I'm just borrowing.
Summary: Kate/Sawyer, back on the beach, immediately following the finale.
chapter 5
Previously, on Lost...
“Juliet. Please. I need to know.”
-----
Juliet merely nods, which Kate finds more than a little maddening. She bites her lip, looking out at the lightening sea rather than at the woman beside her. “You didn't just come for Sun. You came for me, too. To see if I'm pregnant.”
“And you think you are?” Again the calm, even voice.
Kate lets her irritation seep through in her tone. “It's not impossible.” Surely Juliet knows this; after all, she'd been the one to inform Kate that their grief-stricken, passionate tryst in the cage had been recorded for all, including Jack, to see. A slight blush tints her cheekbones as she thinks about it, feeling exposed. “You took Sun to that abandoned medical station. You have the equipment...somewhere in there.” A deep breath. “Take me. I think I deserve at least that.”
The other woman is silent for several long moments, then nods. “All right.”
Is that all she can say? Kate pushes herself up to stand, arms folded in front of her as she looks down at the blond woman. “Tonight. Or I'm going alone.”
An arched eyebrow. “You won't find what you need there alone.”
“Well, then you'd better come with me.” She turns on her heel, as well as she can on the sand, and makes her way back to the tent.
He's still sleeping when she ducks inside, and quietly, gently, she lays down with him, tucking herself under his arm, back to his front. He stirs, murmuring her nickname in a voice thick with sleep. Feeling selfish, in need of comfort, she shushes him softly. “Go back to sleep...” She pulls his arm tighter around her, holding on as if to a lifeline.
-----
She spends the day on edge, avoiding Juliet. It actually surprises no one; it's no secret that Kate trusts Juliet just about as much as she trusts the island's resident monster. No one can tell the difference, that today she's actively avoiding the woman, except perhaps the avoidee herself.
Or so she thinks.
Sawyer is in his usual reading spot, brow crinkled as he watches her. His book is open on his lap but he's not reading, his glasses pushed up on his head so he can see across the camp to where she's talking with Claire and Sun. She's playing with her hands a lot, then tying and re-tying her ponytail, and his brow furrows deeper. He's never known her to look so...nervous. Frightened, to be sure. Determined, angry, confused. Scared shitless, he'd even say. But not nervous.
Then he sees her laugh, and though from across the beach he can't tell if it's a genuine expression, he relaxes, shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Women.”
Later, he follows her at a distance and stands in the shelter of the trees as she weeds in Sun's garden. He looks for evidence of more nervousness but now she just looks tired as she sighs and looks up, leaving a streak of dirt across her forehead as she wipes her brow. He smirks a little to himself as he's reminded of their work in the Others' camp, the way she'd looked, sweaty and tired but unstoppable in that flimsy dress. He'd had to kiss her then, and his previous worry for her is essentially forgotten as he recalls how she'd tasted, like sweat and dirt and exhaustion and strawberries.
“I can see you, you know.”
He jumps when she speaks, the trees and underbrush rustling loudly as he stumbles out into the clearing. “Damn, Freckles, tryin' to give me a heart attack?”
She looks up at him from her kneeling position. “You're the one lurking in the trees.”
“Lurkin'? I ain't lurkin'.”
A nod. “You're lucky I heard you following me, or I might have had to throw another rock.” She looks meaningfully at his knee.
He winces at the memory. “You sure you ain't crazy?”
She arches an eyebrow but doesn't otherwise respond to the question. “So what are you doing here, if you're not lurking? Decide to contribute to society? Pull some weeds?” She smirks, and yanks a hardy-looking weed from the soil with a soft grunt, tossing the offending plant over her shoulder, into the underbrush.
“You puttin' me to work, Sassafrass?”
“I should.” She retorts, sitting back on her heels to survey her work. “For as long as you were standing there, I could've had this done in half the time if I'd had help.”
He can't help but grin as he watches her, tendrils of hair framing her sweaty face, her tank top clinging suggestively to her body. “Forget the weeds, Freckles.” He stoops to kneel next to her, pulling her to him, his breath hot against her cheek. “Don't s'pose you brought that dress back with you...”
“What?” She pulls away, forehead crinkled in confusion.
“Nothin'.” He silences her protest with a deep kiss, hand cradling the back of her head as he lays her down.
chapter 7