dimples, james "sawyer" ford

five

the jungle stretched endlessly around lana, a vast green maze she had learned to navigate with instinct and caution. each step she took, each choice of direction, felt like progress. survival had stopped being just about getting through the next moment—it had become something she was good at.

her muscles no longer ached from constant walking, and her mind was sharper. she knew where to find water now, had figured out what plants weren't poisonous, and even caught a few small animals for food.

despite her progress, lana was further from the beach than she had ever been. unbeknownst to her, she was moving for days in the wrong direction. every step took her deeper into the island, away from the wreckage, away from the others, and away from james.

she wiped the sweat from her brow and took a sip from the canteen she had found. a few scattered suitcases littered her path a few days prior, and she thought maybe the wreckage was close. there were only a few useless items of clothes, but the girl scavenged the water bottle and a helpful pair of hiking boots.

the jungle was quieter now, almost peaceful, in its own brutal way. she had become a part of it, moving silently, alert to every sound. a rustle in the bushes no longer made her jump and she was learning.

sawyer stood at the edge of the survivors camp, looking out at the waves as they rolled lazily toward the shore. the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink. he held the crumpled letter in his hand, the same one he had clung to for years—his reminder of why he had become the man he was.

it was the letter he had written to the man who destroyed his life, the man who stole his parents from him. mr. sawyer. the name he had taken as his own, a twisted homage to the man he despised more than anything. his thumb traced over the worn edges of the paper, lost in thought, the weight of his past pressing down on him harder than usual.

he hadn't shown the letter to anyone. no one knew about the depth of his anger, the pain that fueled him. no one needed to know. except someone was watching him.

"that letter," a voice behind him said softly, "it means something, doesn't it?"

sawyer didn't turn around. he knew who it was before she even spoke—kate. she was one of the few who didn't seem afraid to talk to him, despite the walls he put up.

"none of your business," he muttered, shoving the letter back into his pocket.

kate walked closer, stopping a few feet from him. she crossed her arms and looked out at the ocean. "you don't have to tell me, but i know it's not just a piece of paper. you're holding onto something, and it's eating you up inside."

sawyer clenched his jaw. "i told you," he said, his voice cold, "it's none of your business."

kate didn't back down. "i saw you on the plane," she said quietly. "with that girl. you were talking." she pressed, watching his reaction. "you knew her, didn't you?"

his heart stopped for a second, the memory of lana flickering in his mind. her laugh, her smile, the way she always had a comeback for every smartass remark he threw her way. he hadn't thought anyone noticed them on the plane, but kate was sharp and observant.

sawyer tried to shrug it off, forcing his face into a mask of indifference. "what girl?"

kate raised an eyebrow, her expression softening. "come on, sawyer. you think i'm blind? you were with her. and now you're...hurting." she finished, her voice gentle but sure.

sawyer took a breath, shoving the memories down deep where they couldn't get to him. "doesn't matter," he said, his voice rough. "she's gone."

kate's eyes softened with sympathy. "you don't know that." she said quietly.

sawyer turned to face her, his eyes cold but his voice shaking with the emotion he was trying to hide. "i do," he said, his words like stone. "she was in the back of the plane when it broke apart. she's gone, just like the rest of 'em."

kate didn't say anything for a long moment. she watched him, her expression thoughtful, as if she was weighing whether to push further or let it drop. in the end, she nodded, her eyes lingering on him for just a second longer.

"if that's what you believe," she said softly, "then maybe it's better you keep holding onto that letter. maybe it's all you've got left."

she turned and walked away, leaving sawyer standing alone on the beach, the waves crashing at his feet. he clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the letter in his pocket and the ghost of lana's smile lingering in his mind.