Tracker, Chapter 8 (Skate, others)
Title: Tracker, Chapter 8
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Skate, Jana, others
Disclaimer: I don't own LOST
Summary: Set during S2, immediately post-WKD, Kate, Sawyer and several other characters go off into the jungle after Michael, learning secrets of the Island along the way.
Spoilers: Season 2
A/N: Tracker is an extremely lengthy, multi-chapter fanfic that I wrote during Season Two. I plan on posting a couple of chapters a day if I can, so please check back! By the way, blame kirvash if you get hooked on it. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 8
"Are you sure this is the way they went, Locke?"
John rubbed his forehead in exasperation; Jack had asked him that same question every fifteen minutes for the past few hours. It was becoming irritating.
He glanced at Ana who was holding a torch, watching them; she looked a little frightened and he supposed he couldn't blame her, about an hour after leaving the glade they had come to a spot where another set of footprints joined Michael and Jin's. Locke said he didn't recognize them and they had been spurred by fear of who could have met up with them, but the events of the day had drained them all; they were exhausted. Exhausted people made mistakes and that was a risk they couldn't afford to take.
"Yes, Jack, this is the way." He paused, steeling himself for battle; Jack had that crazy, over-the-edge-of-reason look in his eye and Locke knew from experience that this was going to be very difficult. "But we need to stop. The light is gone, I don't want to miss something-"
"We have torches."
Locke's patience was wearing thin, Jack had been an ass all day and it was getting old. "Jack, we're tired. We need to make camp and rest. We'll be back on the trail at first light-"
"Michael and Jin are out there, John," Jack said, as if he didn't know that. He was really tiring of the attitude. "We have to find them, what if they need us? They are out there, with -someone- we don't know who, doing who knows what-"
"Jack!" Locke snapped. "I know they are out there with someone. You're right, we don't know who, but we don't know how many, either. It's dark, and we don't know the territory. Do you really think chasing after them now is the best possible plan?" He leaned close to Jack, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. "Patience is a quality in which you are sorely lacking, Jack." He smiled quickly. "And that is going to be your downfall."
Jack glared at him crazily. "Is that a threat, John?"
Locke chuckled and backed away a few steps. "No, Jack, it's not a threat." He looked him in the eye and smiled slowly. "It's a ...prediction." He held his arms out, feeling the night air on them; it was invigorating and his body felt full of impulses, electric sparks that pulled this way and that at the whim of the island. "Do you know where we are, Jack?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "You're the tracker, Locke," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Aren't you supposed to know that?"
"Oh, Jack," he said quickly, grinning widely. "I know exactly where I am." He paused, lowering his arms. "You're the one who is lost." He turned and disappeared around a thick stand of trees.
Ana watched the exchange with interest. Breathing heavily, Jack stared after Locke with hatred, and was it fear? He looked up and caught her watching him and he held her gaze for a minute...and another...then she broke it off, nodding after Locke.
"I'll bet you twenty bucks he's a boy scout back home." She smiled at him and added, "He's probably loads of fun around a campfire."
Jack chuckled at the idea of Locke in a boy scout uniform, singing songs and roasting marshmallows. He sighed, giving in, and said, "I guess you're gonna find out." He let her pass and followed her around the thicket of trees.
"Jesus, Jack, what is that?" Ana was amazed by her capacity to continue being surprised by things on this island; there was a ship sitting up on some rocks. Two miles inland. She noted Jack and Locke didn't seem surprised. They'd been here before.
"The Black Rock," said Locke. Ana raised her torch and surveyed the clearing noticing a crate a few feet away and she sidestepped a shallow hole as she moved toward it.
Jack was staring, horrified, at the ship. "Why would they come here? There's only one reason...John, they came after the- ANA! DON'T!"
She froze as they both yelled at her; she could just read the writing on the box- EXPLOSIVES. "It's dynamite," Locke said. "We used it to blow the hatch." He gestured at her torch. "That probably isn't a good idea." Jack took a few steps toward her.
"Right." She took a step backwards into the hole; she lost her balance and fell, dropping the torch and it landed six inches from the crate. Jack caught her just before she hit the ground and she twisted, reaching for the torch; he didn't expect her to throw her weight that way and he over-compensated, tumbling them both into a pile of twisted arms and legs. Locke dove for the torch and moved a safe distance away, watching with amusement as they tried to extricate themselves.
Ana got up first, dusting her clothes off and staring at Jack with disgust. He stood hastily, wiping the dirt from his face with the bottom of his shirt and returned Ana's glare, then looked down at the hole. His glare faded and he paled. "Blast crater," he said, sadly. "We had an...incident."
Ana cringed at the implications of that statement. "Right. No torch around the dynamite. Check."
Jack didn't smile. He stared at the Arzt-hole for a while, then wearily joined Locke and Ana by the campfire.
* * * * * * * * * *
The whispers were all around him. He couldn't understand them, they whickered by his ears and rustled around his head, but he couldn't grasp the words. He leaned forward, to hear better, then realized he couldn't, he was still chained to a tree and he pulled futilely on the chains but they hurt, chafing his already raw wrists and his numbed arms.
The whispers grew louder...they swirled around him, making him dizzy and then there was silence- the waves didn't crash, the birds didn't sing, even the insects were silent. It was suffocating and all enveloping. It was terrifying.
He felt something against his arm and he tried to jerk it away but the cuffs cut into his arms; the touch was unnatural, it felt like he was biting on tinfoil whenever it made contact with his skin. One of his cuffs opened and fell away; something grabbed his collar and pulled him to his feet and he wobbled stiffly, then gingerly, as he stretched his muscles. He heard groaning next to him, and turned blindly. "Michael?" he asked.
Michael groaned again. "Yeah, man, I'm okay. You?"
"Okay." He reached up for his blindfold, but something stopped him, holding his hand down and he recoiled from the feel of it. He didn't try to take the blindfold off again.
The cuff still attatched to him grew taut, pulling against his abraded skin and he stepped forward, reluctantly. He felt Michael brush against him.
The silence lifted. The last thing they heard before melting into the jungle was the hiss and sputter of the signal fire being put out.
* * * * *
Kate sat in the rollaway chair, her feet tucked up under her; her face was suffused with a soft green glow from the computers and it was the only light in the hatch. She ran her fingers absently along the edge of the desk, thinking about the man sleeping in his boxers just a few feet away from her.
She was eager for him to wake up but she was apprehensive, too; nothing had been resolved in the glade and she wasn't looking forward to him realizing he was back in the hatch. She felt bad about what she'd done, though not because of the drugging; Jack was right, he would have died. What bothered her was that she should have been the one to do it but she had panicked; making a decision like that would mean she was responsible for him and she wasn't ready for that. She wanted him, she loved him, but she wasn't ready to own him.
On the way back from the jungle she had been so scared; Eko was strong and fast and they had padded Sawyer's shoulder but she had to fight to keep from checking for blood every five minutes. Once inside, she had taken off his boots and his filthy, bloodstained shirt, throwing it into the trash; Eko had to help with his jeans, though he had kindly averted his eyes when she had blushed madly (thinking slightly dirty thoughts about his boxers). Sun had been on duty but it wasn't hard to convince her to go; Kate was going to be awake anyway, at least now they were alone.
The alarm went off and Kate enetered the numbers automatically, hitting execute.
"Kate." It wasn't a question. He knew she was there.
She unfolded from the chair and padded through the darkness to him. "Hello, sailor."
Sawyer couldn't see her; it was so dark and close. But he could feel her, feel the electricity radiating from her. Something was...off. He couldn't figure it out.
"How are you feeling?" Her hand slipped into his.
He thought about it for a second. "When I was about eight years old," he said, his eyes searching the blackness for her," me and my cousin Jesse got into my daddy's moonshine stash." He sensed her grinning, and he squeezed her fingers gently. "I musta drank all of two shots before I threw up all over my gramma's prize-winnin' antique quilt."
Kate laughed. "That bad, huh?"
"Only difference this time, Freckles, is my ass ain't gettin' whipped with a hickory switch." Kate felt him grinning at her. "Unless you wanna do it."
She squeezed his fingers back, and her lips brushed his. Then she was gone. "Hickory is in short supply on this island, Tex. I guess I'll have to find something else."
He lay still a moment longer, contemplating the possibilities, then, groaning, he sat up on the edge of a -bed? What the hell? Something clicked. "Kate!" he yelled, "What the hell are we doing in the hatch?"
The hall light came on; she was in the doorway, staring at him with fear and a little regret. She didn't say anything.
"How did I get here? Last thing I remember was-" His face hardened and he stood quickly, grasping his shoulder in pain; Kate moved to help him but he pushed her hands away icily. "Get away from me."
That cut her. "I'm sorry, Sawyer, okay? You were going to die out there, how could I let that happen? I-"
His eyes narrowed. "You really think that's what this is about, Freckles?" He pushed past her, towards the hatch. "What'd you do, drug me?" She didn't answer and he stopped, rolling his head around to her. "Oh, yeah. Well, poisoning is your thing, ain't it." His eyes bored into hers.
She was aghast. "What?"
"Nothin'," he sneered. "Just thinkin' about Michael." He emphasized Michael's name, giving her a piercing look.
"I didn't do it, Sawyer." He wasn't sure if she was talking about him or Mike and he cocked his head at her as she said, "It was Jack's idea."
She knew instantly she'd said the wrong thing as that cold, dangerous light came into his eyes and he spun on her, grabbing her wrist tightly. "Jack's idea?" He pushed her back against the wall, hard; he felt a little sorry at the oof she let out but then he pressed against her, covering her body with his and she was suddenly very aware that he was wearing nothing but boxers. "Of course, Saint Jack says it and it's gold," he drawled icily, his finger against her cheek. She was trembling all over, not daring to look up at him and he traced the outline of her jaw down to her chin. He lifted her face up to his, his eyes gleaming with fury. "Or maybe it's the Doc's kisses that are gold," he said, and then he kissed her hard, crushing his lips against hers. He expected her to fight back, to struggle, but she didn't; instead she opened up and let him in, her hand went to the back of his neck, dragging him to her, closer, harder. His good hand wrapped itself in her hair and they clung to each other as if they were drowning.
Kate's fingertips dipped into the waistband of his boxers, then withdrew quickly as he groaned against her and they dipped again, deeper, then gone again. Tease, he thought. You're going to pay for that. He slid his hand against her stomach, lifting her shirt little by little as he explored; she obliged him by reaching up and pulling the tank off and dropping it to the floor.
Sawyer pulled back a little to look at her. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were glowing and she stared at him hungrily; he was still leaning on her, pressing her lightly against the wall and the feel of her bare skin against his was intoxicating. They stood together like that for a minute, enjoying the delicious freedom of giving in, delighting in the feel of leaning into each other.
Kate kissed him, this time, a deep, sweet, slow kiss; he wanted his hands to be all over her, all at once and he cursed the useless arm dangling at his side as his other arm circled her waist and pulled her up against him. She moaned softly and he couldn't wait. "Kate," he groaned. "The bed."
She didn't hesitate.
Kate shed her clothes quickly, then bent to help Sawyer with his boxers; her face was flushed and she could feel him grinning at her. "I know what you're thinking," she said, glancing up at him with a dazzling smile. "And it's definitely going to happen."
* * * * *
They lay entwined together on the bed, still coated with a slick sheen of sweat as Sawyer pushed a lock of hair from her eyes, then bent down and kissed her gently.
The alarm went off. Kate climbed over him and padded out to the computer, still naked; she said a silent, quick prayer that nobody walked in as she typed quickly, 4...8...15...16...23...42...execute. She hurried back and Sawyer was holding the covers up, inviting her in; he had a rapt, awestruck expression. "What?" Kate asked, crawling under the covers.
"I just realized Freckles," he said, gazing at her,"I'm sleepin' with the woman who just saved the world."
Kate smiled, but it was a little sad. She rolled up on her elbow, looking at Sawyer. "My dad used to watch these old Marx Brothers movies when I was a kid," she said, and he listened, not sure where she was going with this. "In one of them, I don't know which, Groucho says, 'I would never want to belong to a club that would have someone like me for a member' or something along those lines. And it stuck with me, you know, because I thought, yeah, that's me. I would never be...good enough." He was staring at her, unable to look away; her eyes were glistening. "So, I ask myself, every time I hit that button, 'Do I want to belong to a world that would allow someone like me to save it?'"
Sawyer didn't know what to say. He pulled the covers over them, losing them in their own little world.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Skate, Jana, others
Disclaimer: I don't own LOST
Summary: Set during S2, immediately post-WKD, Kate, Sawyer and several other characters go off into the jungle after Michael, learning secrets of the Island along the way.
Spoilers: Season 2
A/N: Tracker is an extremely lengthy, multi-chapter fanfic that I wrote during Season Two. I plan on posting a couple of chapters a day if I can, so please check back! By the way, blame kirvash if you get hooked on it. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 8
"Are you sure this is the way they went, Locke?"
John rubbed his forehead in exasperation; Jack had asked him that same question every fifteen minutes for the past few hours. It was becoming irritating.
He glanced at Ana who was holding a torch, watching them; she looked a little frightened and he supposed he couldn't blame her, about an hour after leaving the glade they had come to a spot where another set of footprints joined Michael and Jin's. Locke said he didn't recognize them and they had been spurred by fear of who could have met up with them, but the events of the day had drained them all; they were exhausted. Exhausted people made mistakes and that was a risk they couldn't afford to take.
"Yes, Jack, this is the way." He paused, steeling himself for battle; Jack had that crazy, over-the-edge-of-reason look in his eye and Locke knew from experience that this was going to be very difficult. "But we need to stop. The light is gone, I don't want to miss something-"
"We have torches."
Locke's patience was wearing thin, Jack had been an ass all day and it was getting old. "Jack, we're tired. We need to make camp and rest. We'll be back on the trail at first light-"
"Michael and Jin are out there, John," Jack said, as if he didn't know that. He was really tiring of the attitude. "We have to find them, what if they need us? They are out there, with -someone- we don't know who, doing who knows what-"
"Jack!" Locke snapped. "I know they are out there with someone. You're right, we don't know who, but we don't know how many, either. It's dark, and we don't know the territory. Do you really think chasing after them now is the best possible plan?" He leaned close to Jack, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. "Patience is a quality in which you are sorely lacking, Jack." He smiled quickly. "And that is going to be your downfall."
Jack glared at him crazily. "Is that a threat, John?"
Locke chuckled and backed away a few steps. "No, Jack, it's not a threat." He looked him in the eye and smiled slowly. "It's a ...prediction." He held his arms out, feeling the night air on them; it was invigorating and his body felt full of impulses, electric sparks that pulled this way and that at the whim of the island. "Do you know where we are, Jack?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "You're the tracker, Locke," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Aren't you supposed to know that?"
"Oh, Jack," he said quickly, grinning widely. "I know exactly where I am." He paused, lowering his arms. "You're the one who is lost." He turned and disappeared around a thick stand of trees.
Ana watched the exchange with interest. Breathing heavily, Jack stared after Locke with hatred, and was it fear? He looked up and caught her watching him and he held her gaze for a minute...and another...then she broke it off, nodding after Locke.
"I'll bet you twenty bucks he's a boy scout back home." She smiled at him and added, "He's probably loads of fun around a campfire."
Jack chuckled at the idea of Locke in a boy scout uniform, singing songs and roasting marshmallows. He sighed, giving in, and said, "I guess you're gonna find out." He let her pass and followed her around the thicket of trees.
"Jesus, Jack, what is that?" Ana was amazed by her capacity to continue being surprised by things on this island; there was a ship sitting up on some rocks. Two miles inland. She noted Jack and Locke didn't seem surprised. They'd been here before.
"The Black Rock," said Locke. Ana raised her torch and surveyed the clearing noticing a crate a few feet away and she sidestepped a shallow hole as she moved toward it.
Jack was staring, horrified, at the ship. "Why would they come here? There's only one reason...John, they came after the- ANA! DON'T!"
She froze as they both yelled at her; she could just read the writing on the box- EXPLOSIVES. "It's dynamite," Locke said. "We used it to blow the hatch." He gestured at her torch. "That probably isn't a good idea." Jack took a few steps toward her.
"Right." She took a step backwards into the hole; she lost her balance and fell, dropping the torch and it landed six inches from the crate. Jack caught her just before she hit the ground and she twisted, reaching for the torch; he didn't expect her to throw her weight that way and he over-compensated, tumbling them both into a pile of twisted arms and legs. Locke dove for the torch and moved a safe distance away, watching with amusement as they tried to extricate themselves.
Ana got up first, dusting her clothes off and staring at Jack with disgust. He stood hastily, wiping the dirt from his face with the bottom of his shirt and returned Ana's glare, then looked down at the hole. His glare faded and he paled. "Blast crater," he said, sadly. "We had an...incident."
Ana cringed at the implications of that statement. "Right. No torch around the dynamite. Check."
Jack didn't smile. He stared at the Arzt-hole for a while, then wearily joined Locke and Ana by the campfire.
* * * * * * * * * *
The whispers were all around him. He couldn't understand them, they whickered by his ears and rustled around his head, but he couldn't grasp the words. He leaned forward, to hear better, then realized he couldn't, he was still chained to a tree and he pulled futilely on the chains but they hurt, chafing his already raw wrists and his numbed arms.
The whispers grew louder...they swirled around him, making him dizzy and then there was silence- the waves didn't crash, the birds didn't sing, even the insects were silent. It was suffocating and all enveloping. It was terrifying.
He felt something against his arm and he tried to jerk it away but the cuffs cut into his arms; the touch was unnatural, it felt like he was biting on tinfoil whenever it made contact with his skin. One of his cuffs opened and fell away; something grabbed his collar and pulled him to his feet and he wobbled stiffly, then gingerly, as he stretched his muscles. He heard groaning next to him, and turned blindly. "Michael?" he asked.
Michael groaned again. "Yeah, man, I'm okay. You?"
"Okay." He reached up for his blindfold, but something stopped him, holding his hand down and he recoiled from the feel of it. He didn't try to take the blindfold off again.
The cuff still attatched to him grew taut, pulling against his abraded skin and he stepped forward, reluctantly. He felt Michael brush against him.
The silence lifted. The last thing they heard before melting into the jungle was the hiss and sputter of the signal fire being put out.
* * * * *
Kate sat in the rollaway chair, her feet tucked up under her; her face was suffused with a soft green glow from the computers and it was the only light in the hatch. She ran her fingers absently along the edge of the desk, thinking about the man sleeping in his boxers just a few feet away from her.
She was eager for him to wake up but she was apprehensive, too; nothing had been resolved in the glade and she wasn't looking forward to him realizing he was back in the hatch. She felt bad about what she'd done, though not because of the drugging; Jack was right, he would have died. What bothered her was that she should have been the one to do it but she had panicked; making a decision like that would mean she was responsible for him and she wasn't ready for that. She wanted him, she loved him, but she wasn't ready to own him.
On the way back from the jungle she had been so scared; Eko was strong and fast and they had padded Sawyer's shoulder but she had to fight to keep from checking for blood every five minutes. Once inside, she had taken off his boots and his filthy, bloodstained shirt, throwing it into the trash; Eko had to help with his jeans, though he had kindly averted his eyes when she had blushed madly (thinking slightly dirty thoughts about his boxers). Sun had been on duty but it wasn't hard to convince her to go; Kate was going to be awake anyway, at least now they were alone.
The alarm went off and Kate enetered the numbers automatically, hitting execute.
"Kate." It wasn't a question. He knew she was there.
She unfolded from the chair and padded through the darkness to him. "Hello, sailor."
Sawyer couldn't see her; it was so dark and close. But he could feel her, feel the electricity radiating from her. Something was...off. He couldn't figure it out.
"How are you feeling?" Her hand slipped into his.
He thought about it for a second. "When I was about eight years old," he said, his eyes searching the blackness for her," me and my cousin Jesse got into my daddy's moonshine stash." He sensed her grinning, and he squeezed her fingers gently. "I musta drank all of two shots before I threw up all over my gramma's prize-winnin' antique quilt."
Kate laughed. "That bad, huh?"
"Only difference this time, Freckles, is my ass ain't gettin' whipped with a hickory switch." Kate felt him grinning at her. "Unless you wanna do it."
She squeezed his fingers back, and her lips brushed his. Then she was gone. "Hickory is in short supply on this island, Tex. I guess I'll have to find something else."
He lay still a moment longer, contemplating the possibilities, then, groaning, he sat up on the edge of a -bed? What the hell? Something clicked. "Kate!" he yelled, "What the hell are we doing in the hatch?"
The hall light came on; she was in the doorway, staring at him with fear and a little regret. She didn't say anything.
"How did I get here? Last thing I remember was-" His face hardened and he stood quickly, grasping his shoulder in pain; Kate moved to help him but he pushed her hands away icily. "Get away from me."
That cut her. "I'm sorry, Sawyer, okay? You were going to die out there, how could I let that happen? I-"
His eyes narrowed. "You really think that's what this is about, Freckles?" He pushed past her, towards the hatch. "What'd you do, drug me?" She didn't answer and he stopped, rolling his head around to her. "Oh, yeah. Well, poisoning is your thing, ain't it." His eyes bored into hers.
She was aghast. "What?"
"Nothin'," he sneered. "Just thinkin' about Michael." He emphasized Michael's name, giving her a piercing look.
"I didn't do it, Sawyer." He wasn't sure if she was talking about him or Mike and he cocked his head at her as she said, "It was Jack's idea."
She knew instantly she'd said the wrong thing as that cold, dangerous light came into his eyes and he spun on her, grabbing her wrist tightly. "Jack's idea?" He pushed her back against the wall, hard; he felt a little sorry at the oof she let out but then he pressed against her, covering her body with his and she was suddenly very aware that he was wearing nothing but boxers. "Of course, Saint Jack says it and it's gold," he drawled icily, his finger against her cheek. She was trembling all over, not daring to look up at him and he traced the outline of her jaw down to her chin. He lifted her face up to his, his eyes gleaming with fury. "Or maybe it's the Doc's kisses that are gold," he said, and then he kissed her hard, crushing his lips against hers. He expected her to fight back, to struggle, but she didn't; instead she opened up and let him in, her hand went to the back of his neck, dragging him to her, closer, harder. His good hand wrapped itself in her hair and they clung to each other as if they were drowning.
Kate's fingertips dipped into the waistband of his boxers, then withdrew quickly as he groaned against her and they dipped again, deeper, then gone again. Tease, he thought. You're going to pay for that. He slid his hand against her stomach, lifting her shirt little by little as he explored; she obliged him by reaching up and pulling the tank off and dropping it to the floor.
Sawyer pulled back a little to look at her. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were glowing and she stared at him hungrily; he was still leaning on her, pressing her lightly against the wall and the feel of her bare skin against his was intoxicating. They stood together like that for a minute, enjoying the delicious freedom of giving in, delighting in the feel of leaning into each other.
Kate kissed him, this time, a deep, sweet, slow kiss; he wanted his hands to be all over her, all at once and he cursed the useless arm dangling at his side as his other arm circled her waist and pulled her up against him. She moaned softly and he couldn't wait. "Kate," he groaned. "The bed."
She didn't hesitate.
Kate shed her clothes quickly, then bent to help Sawyer with his boxers; her face was flushed and she could feel him grinning at her. "I know what you're thinking," she said, glancing up at him with a dazzling smile. "And it's definitely going to happen."
* * * * *
They lay entwined together on the bed, still coated with a slick sheen of sweat as Sawyer pushed a lock of hair from her eyes, then bent down and kissed her gently.
The alarm went off. Kate climbed over him and padded out to the computer, still naked; she said a silent, quick prayer that nobody walked in as she typed quickly, 4...8...15...16...23...42...execute. She hurried back and Sawyer was holding the covers up, inviting her in; he had a rapt, awestruck expression. "What?" Kate asked, crawling under the covers.
"I just realized Freckles," he said, gazing at her,"I'm sleepin' with the woman who just saved the world."
Kate smiled, but it was a little sad. She rolled up on her elbow, looking at Sawyer. "My dad used to watch these old Marx Brothers movies when I was a kid," she said, and he listened, not sure where she was going with this. "In one of them, I don't know which, Groucho says, 'I would never want to belong to a club that would have someone like me for a member' or something along those lines. And it stuck with me, you know, because I thought, yeah, that's me. I would never be...good enough." He was staring at her, unable to look away; her eyes were glistening. "So, I ask myself, every time I hit that button, 'Do I want to belong to a world that would allow someone like me to save it?'"
Sawyer didn't know what to say. He pulled the covers over them, losing them in their own little world.