Thank you, boar expert!

NOTE: Set in the landof_reprisal-verse. Lincoln mentioned is id_mademypeace.

The sun rises on a new dawn. Yet few of us realize the debt we owe to those responsible for this. To those who dwell among us. Anonymous, seemingly ordinary, whom destiny brought together to heal, to save us, from ourselves.

We made it through the night.

We survived the threat of the Others, and the threat that came from a computer system we knew nothing about. Pushing that button...I honestly don’t know what to think about it. We did what had to be done to give ourselves time, and we made it through the night.

I don’t know why it’s sticking with me this way...I just know I woke up this morning, and I felt it in my bones. That first breath at the end of sleep, cool and moist, opening my eyes and resisting the urge to rub the sandpapery feel from them for just a minute...I felt really good.

I could still feel him with me.

Somewhere in the middle of the madness, I kissed Lincoln and he kissed me, and...well, a lot of things just came to a head between us. There’s things we should talk about, things I should tell him...things I want to ask.

It bothers me that I remember the kiss less than his closeness. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s...well, a great kisser. Still, when I woke up this morning, feeling something close to safe? I thought of the kiss less than I did the moment when I hid my head against his shoulder...just for a second, finding a safe place to be while he helped me get free. I didn’t touch my mouth, remembering how his felt on mine...I hugged myself, remembering the embrace in the kitchen of the Hatch. I remembered how my arms felt around him...how his body felt so close to mine.

There’s something else there...has been since we met that first day. All I know is that he’s the biggest reason we all made it through the night, the reason we all survived. He knew what to say, did what he had to do, and was there when he was needed.

And now that we know...about each other...I just hope I can be for him the kind of person he’s been for all of us.

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 349

NOTE: Set in the landof_reprisal-verse. Lincoln Burrows mentioned is id_mademypeace.

All things are difficult before they are easy.

When things get bad, I bolt. It’s what I do...it’s all I’ve known for far too long. I’ve seen a lot of things on the road and on the run, but the one thing I rely on to get me through isn’t love or strength or even any sort of survival instinct...it’s the flotsam and the jetsam, the unfettered things. It’s freedom that keeps me going. Things get rough, I cut and run.

I’m not boasting or trying to earn sympathy, and I’m not proud of the facts as they stand. I’m just trying to make it clear as I can when I say that being on this island is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And the scary thing is that it’s getting easier every day.

It used to be that I felt exposed all the time, because there was nowhere to hide...penned in because there was nowhere to go. It’s a living prison, this place, and ten times worse than the real thing because I’m taunted at every turn by sun on my face and fresh air in my lungs.

But knowing Lincoln...it’s changed everything.

And I’m really not talking about having feelings for him...I mean just simply living in the same circles as the man. He’s a rock in every sense of the word...steady and sedentary. He doesn’t move if he doesn’t have to, and he does it with a strange sort of grace. He’s grounded...he stays and faces whatever his world has to offer, and he does it with a strength of character I really admire.

He’s grounded, but not rooted. He’ll be absolutely steady for the longest time...then something will send him off like a shot. In his head, or in a very literal sense, he’ll take off so hard and so fast no one can catch him. He can run further than I’ve ever dreamed of, and he can do it in a heartbeat. Instead of a rock, he’s a boulder careening downhill at top speed.

It’s in those moments that I find myself taking off after him...not running to escape, but running to chase him down. He’s the anchor...the rock, the center of everything, even when he’s moving at full speed.

And I don’t know when I got tethered to him...but that bond has made the hard things I face every day that much easier to get through.

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 407

Back in the real world, you’ll probably learn the most about me at the local post office...height, weight, eye color, aliases...rap sheet. I mean, knowing Edward, he probably made sure that the wanted posters stayed in relatively heavy circulation.

Yeah...I’ve had some trouble with the law. But I suppose that’s ultimately an understatement.

My name is Kate Austen...by now, you’ve probably heard about me on the news. I was one of the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815...The Risen Dead, I think the media was calling us for a while. Anyway, I’m back here...in the real world.

I ran for a long time...I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. And right now...I honestly have no idea what’s going to happen to me. There’s been some talk about pleading out the charges against me...a reduced or commuted sentence, but I’m not holding my breath.

I’ve seen things...done things...above and beyond the crimes I’ve committed, the things that happened to me on the island we were stranded on changed me. Who I am, what I’m about...the relationships I formed...

The authorities say I’m dangerous. I think I still am...but I’ve never been a bad person. And I can’t deny...after running for so long, it’s gotten into my blood. It’s who I am.

But after what happened to me on the island...I’m not sure where the hell I’m running anymore.

Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.

She regretted everything and nothing.

Kate’s whole life was nothing but lies, half truths, and transitions...moments between the events that should have counted for something, should have mattered in any other person’s existence. Then again, she’d always had a talent for slipping through the impossible spaces of the world...

With her hands stained bright red with blood, and her body worn to the bones with the fatigue of running, she held on to little else but the regret...the knowledge that somewhere, on some level, she still cared enough to be sorry for her sins. She still felt pain, she could still feel guilt...heart and soul, she wasn’t completely dead inside. Not yet, anyway.

Survival was priority number one...regret and remorse were the two only luxuries she allowed herself.

Until she kissed him.

It continued afterwards...ducking and dodging to find those safe harbors in motion. One moment to the next, even on the island she was always on the run. She told the half-truths...she told the lies.

It was the lies by the fire that she regretted now...the lies about missing his arms and his taste.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“I’m not.”

And as long as she lived, Kate knew she would never be sorry again.

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 217

“Are you ever satisfied?”

The voice that rang in her ears as she stood in the middle of the graveyard was high and laughing, not yet touched with the depth of age or the lower registers of manhood. It was a voice that had always been safety and comfort...light where there had only been darkness.

Now darkness was all he knew.

Stepping forward, Kate knelt before Tom’s grave and laid her small armful of lilies against his tombstone. She hadn’t been to his funeral, and hadn’t come back to his grave since the day he died. Now she was here, six days after leaving Lincoln a second time...and she wasn’t sure why she was doing this.

She only knew that she missed Tom, and that she missed Lincoln. She ached for him, a constant hollow throb in her chest that wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t drink it away, screw it away, or push it away...running didn’t work, not unless she was running into his arms.

Tom had always been her voice of reason...her conscience, her calm when she had none to draw from. He’d been the first boy she ever loved, and a part of her past that she could call ‘good’ when she needed something good to look back on. He challenged her to be better...pushed her to be happy, and succeeded.

Reaching out, she traced her fingers over his name, carved into the pale marble of his headstone.

Maybe the voices of the dead were speaking to her...that or her own subconscious. Still...she only had one answer, and no matter who asked the question, she couldn’t bring herself to face the truth. Except for here.

“I am now, Tom.” she murmured in the unnaturally still air of the cemetery, drawing in a shaky sigh as she swallowed past a lump in her throat. “And that’s what scares me.”

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 319

"Face to face -- and dream of flying
Who are you? -- who am I?" -- Siouxsie and the Banshees

[locked from Lincoln and Michael]

It’s only been a few days, but I don’t think I’m going to make it.

There’s moments when he looks at me that I feel it the most...when he’s staring at me outright or odd little instances when he touches my face, turns my head so he can stare me straight in the eye. I see myself in his face when he does that...the light in his eyes, the little twist of his lips that’s not a smile, but not a frown...but mostly the way his brow furrows, just a bit. Like I’m a puzzle he really wants to solve.

Like I’m a secret he’s desperate to know.

Everything about him fits...he’s a good man, but he’s not pure. He knows what I am and he can get past it...and he has a real life he can offer me, a life that I need. He doesn’t ask anything of me that I can’t give, and the things he wants to ask me for are all things I’d love nothing more than to provide.

And when he touches me, the world stops turning.

It’s when he looks into my eyes and sees something good that I feel like I’ve stepped into Mercury’s shoes. The wings on my heels, flapping hard, begging me to bolt before that look can ever change, before he can come to his senses and realize just who and what he’s sleeping with at night.

I know that running’s useless...I already tried it. I left it all behind, one perfect night that should have held me over for a long time...until it faded and I went looking for another memory to warm my bed on the nights when sleeping alone left me cold and aching.

But we found each other...and I’m back in his arms again.

I can’t be the woman he sees...and when I’m with him, I don’t *feel* like the woman I know I am.

I don’t know who I am anymore, and I don’t know where to go.

I just know that it won’t be too much longer before I’m running again.

[/locked]

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 355

From a note left on the table in a hotel room somewhere...

Lincoln,

I know you’re more than a little aware of my penchant for bolting like a scared cat...this isn’t one of those times. Hence the whole purpose of leaving a note over a face to face farewell.

Because this isn’t a farewell...sorry, I’ve never been much good at the ‘went to the drugstore, be right back, Pookie’ sort of cutesy note, know what I mean? Not that this is one of those notes or anything...I mean, you and me aren’t in that place...

Anyway. It’s almost six AM and I can’t sleep worth a damn, and yes...I got restless, so I went out. Saw a little convenience store and fast food joint about a block and a half from the hotel when we got here, so I figure if I pick up some food, it’ll still be hot by the time I get back, and everyone will be up.

I almost woke you up to go with me...truth is, I didn’t sleep much last night period. I was watching you sleep...did you know that you snore? A lot? At least when you’re on your back...you stop when you roll on your side. I’m willing to bet it’s some sort of deviated septum thing.

So I was watching you sleep, and the sun came up. That curtain by the door was open, so I watched you sleep while the sun rose...and it was interesting. I didn’t face the window, I just lay there next to you...watching the light spill over your face, soft at first and then brighter. It made your skin almost glow as it turned from this weird, pretty sort of gold to actual sunlight...then made you snort and snuffle and rub your face.

Then you nearly brained me in the forehead with your chin when you pulled me close and hid from the sun with your face in my hair.

Okay, so this wasn’t *supposed* to be a love letter...but what do you know? It turned into unmitigated sap. But...I mean...I guess we deserve it, don’t we? I know you do...to know how I really feel, even if it’s something stupid like the fact that waking up next to you felt so damn good. And I’d never have the guts to tell you something like this face to face.

I’ve seen a lot of gorgeous sunrises on the road and on the run...but my favorite so far was the one I saw on your face this morning.

So...I’ll be back in a bit.

Promise.

-Kate

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 444

Kate hated that the rest stop reminded her of the damn cafe back in Kansas...had the same gingham tablecloths, and the waitress had the same damn hairdo, only this one was a redhead. It was more of the same...reminders she couldn't shake, wasn't sure she wanted to, but scared her so badly she couldn't help but run from them.

But tomorrow it would end...tomorrow, she'd be in Barstow, and from there, she'd be in LA within two days...and from there to LAX, and LAX to Sydney. The plan was pretty simple...get out of the country. Do what she could to pull some cash together in Oz, then head for Europe. If nothing else, her trail should go cold enough to give her enough of a breather to buy a new identity overseas...change her hair to blonde for good this time.

She wondered if *he* liked blondes.

Shaking off the thought, she signaled the waitress for a refill on her too-strong coffee and a second helping of her tasteless hashed browns while on a shelf above the dining counter, the morning news played in the background.

"...looking forward to cooler temperatures this weekend, that's for sure. In other news, suspected teen killer Lincoln "LJ" Burrows, Jr., has been released from a local detention facility after the disappearance of evidence critical to his conviction. Burrows, son of Lincoln Burrows, Sr., one of the now infamous Fox River Eight, was being held for the double homicide of Lisa and Adrian Rix, his mother and stepfather, as well as the attempted murder of local Illinos businessman Owen Kravecki..."

The rest of the report was lost on Kate for the most part with the exception of a few facts, including that his release had been the day before.

The day before...shit. Linc was probably already here, looking for him, and if they ran into each other...

//Jesus, Kate, what the hell are you thinking?// she snapped inwardly, rubbing a hand over her features as she took a hasty swallow of coffee, welcoming the burn of the too-hot liquid, the bite of too large a sip stinging her tongue and her eyes. //You don't have a clue if he's here or not...you don't have a clue about anything.// What the hell made her think he'd be here just because his kid was?

Because he'd given a one-night stand his car. Because he'd *let* her run. Because he'd looked a little harder and a little deeper than anyone else ever had and didn't mind the darkness he saw.

Jesus Christ, it had been a week and a half at *least* since she'd slept with him. And he hadn't been the only one she'd ever taken to bed...just the only one that had ever gotten under her skin. Lincoln Burrows was in her head, under her skin...even in her dreams at night, dreams that were so intense she usually woke up twisted in the cheap sheets of whatever motel room she was staying in, skin still flushed and tingling after she had them.

She missed him...and Kate didn't miss anyone. Not anymore.

The only thing she was sure of was that if Linc's kid was out of jail, he'd be here...for whatever reason. After the way he'd treated her, she knew he couldn't detatch himself from anything easily, and his own kid?...

She had to get out of here.

Finishing her coffee fast enough to make her cough, Kate dropped a twenty on the counter for her meal and rose from her stool, shouldering her bag and shoving a hand inside to touch her plane ticket...the one that would get her to Sydney. She could be in California by tomorrow if she traveled hard...

Shoving her sunglasses on her face, Kate shoved the door of the rest stop's diner open, stalking out into the light...

...and freezing as she saw them climb out of the car across the street.

Broad and tall, lean and furtive...yeah, it was them.

And as she stood there, frozen in shock and something else as her body automatically reacted just to *seeing* Lincoln in person again, the only thing she could really give any serious thought to, in her dumbstruck haze, was that he seemed to have a predisposition towards *not* buttoning his shirt all the way up...

( Cut for spoilery allusions to 3.01 - A TALE OF TWO CITIES )

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 436

It was only after she was a few miles away...from the marshall, from her home that the weight of the truth finally began to press too hard across her shoulders. It was like being trapped in a vise, both sides squeezing harder with every turn of the crank...she could almost feel her ribs splintering and her heart threatening to burst...

Why?

The tears were hot, searing as they rolled down her cheeks to match the rain outside.

Why, Ma?

She had nowhere left to go...not even her father was safe, not for more than a word. Her father...her dad. The only one she ever had...regardless of whose blood flowed through her veins. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? It was Wayne’s blood, and not Sam’s. And everyone had lied to her...including her mother.

But Kate had tried...the only way she knew how. Like killing a snake by cutting off its head, if she could kill Wayne to protect her mother...maybe cure that evil he’d put in her just by being the man Ma had fucked at the right time of the month.

She had so many reasons to kill him, good and bad...and because the good outweighed the bad, the worst, she did it.

At least she’d have her mother.

But now she didn’t even have that. Dad...he couldn’t help her. He wouldn’t, and she’d never ask him to. She’d never ask anyone to.

Yet he gave her an hour. He was so honest...so decent, even if she was a bad person.

He held her...he told her without words that she still had a father.

But she didn’t have a home. She didn’t have anywhere she could go.

The only thing Kate had left was the ability to run.

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 302