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Kate likes to do her laundry late at night. It’s cooler and quieter and probably not the safer choice, but it’s become a routine, one of the few things that bring her a feeling of stability as of late. Not that she’s ever really been a girl desperate for stability, but surviving a plane crash and scouring an abandoned island is unprecedented territory— quite literally— and it can be unsettling. She needs at least one staple of life she can count on.
Kate likes to be alone too, at least for a little while. Jack is a good leader of the group, always two steps ahead and present for everyone, but she isn’t like that, she can’t be like that. She needs the silence and the time to turn off her brain, to convince herself that she’s okay and that she won’t die here. She also has to remind herself that dying here would probably be a better option than what had been waiting for her in Los Angeles, anyways. She still feels the press of handcuffs on her wrists every now and then whenever she’s fortunate— or maybe unfortunate— enough to dream.
Kate is always on guard, just as she was back home, so it’s not even really that much different. She’s mastered the art of being ultra aware in every possible situation, so in moments like this, when she hears twigs breaking in the dark, she knows just how to move in response.
It’s dark around her, but in seconds she’s on her feet and wielding her gun. Her eyes scan her surroundings as she steadies her breath and tries not to think about the fact that there’s only two bullets left in the barrel.
“Who’s there?” she calls out, voice just a little frantic despite her efforts to hide it. Her finger hovers over the trigger as she searches for an intruder, and only when she sees a familiar figure in the shadows does she heave out a sigh of relief and lower her weapon.
Ana Lucia.
“Hey, it’s me,” the other woman says by way of greeting. She’s casual and nonchalant and clearly not bothered by the rifle that had just been pointed at her— and Kate kind of gets why. After all the guns they’ve had aimed at them since they’ve been here, it’s starting to feel like common practice.
Ana Lucia meanders over to Kate’s laundry pile, leaning against the cave wall beside her like she’s done this before, like she and Kate have done more than speak minimal words to each other in the few weeks that she’d been settled in on the beach. She’s laid back, running a hand through her slightly damp hair and flipping it to one side of her head, and it’s a contrast to how intense she usually is. Kate notes that she’s still manages to be intimidating.
Ana Lucia makes herself comfortable, hitching a leg up to rest the heel of her boot against the rock, and somewhere in the back of Kate’s mind she notices that Ana Lucia didn’t really apologize for sneaking up on her. Not that she cares— she’s not keeping score for anyone on this island, certainly not for little things like jump scare— but it’s still a thing.
“Doing laundry?” Ana Lucia asks as if it isn’t obvious.
Kate nods a little awkwardly. She bends to continue cleaning her clothes and only moves a few t-shirts around without intent until the boring of Ana Lucia’s eyes on her feel like too much.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Kate asks, looking up. There’s something Ana Lucia wants, she can tell, and she’s ready to get it over with.
Ana Lucia lets out a bitter grunt, and that’s the kind of response Kate is used to hearing from her.
“I never can,” she scoffs, and Kate doesn’t ask her to elaborate, doesn’t need her to. They’ve been stuck here for forty nine days, after all, and there’s an angry colony of “others” watching their every move and planning an attack. There’d be something wrong with them if they were getting decent sleep.
“Me neither,” she admits. “And I ran out of melatonin on the second week.”
Ana Lucia chuckles, just a little. It’s not necessarily a genuine sound, but it isn’t fake either. It’s the kind of laugh that Kate’s well attuned to, given the fact that everyone she knows is in survival mode, praying for any kind of hope or light even when the darkness is closing in.
And suddenly, when Ana Lucia speaks again, Kate understands the exact reason that she’s here with her.
“You’re hot, you know.”
She says it like it’s nothing at all, and Kate is taken aback but certainly not displeased. She’s sure Ana Lucia can read the shock on her face, clear as day— and she’s encountered polar bears on this tropical island, for god’s sake— but something about the new, broody brunette flirting with her feels like the biggest surprise yet.
But Kate knows how to compose herself, and just how to play these kinds of games.
“I know,” she replies simply. For a moment, she lets her glance fleet away from Ana Lucia’s smug looking face— it’s clear that she expects to get what she wants already, and sure, maybe she will, but Kate can’t let her know that right away. She picks up a pair of pajama pants and slowly wrings the water out of them before turning her gaze back to the woman standing above her.
“But thank you,” she says, deciding to soften. “No one’s told me that in a really long time.”
Ana Lucia grins at this, teeth glinting in the moonlight. She’s kind of beautiful, Kate realizes, and it surprises her that it’s taken her this long to notice. (You’ve kind of got bigger things going on, her conscience tells her, but she’s suddenly distracted by the way that Ana Lucia bites her lip to think about logistics.)
“Want me to tell you again?” she asks, though she’s already stepping closer and reaching for Kate’s hands.
“God, yes,” Kate responds, and in seconds she’s on her feet, practically stumbling into Ana Lucia’s space. She kisses rough and intense and it’s what Kate expects, what she’s wanted— and it’s not like she hasn’t, you know, had urges or desires since she’s been on the island, but she’s been pretty good at turning them off and focusing on the more important issues at hand. Only now does she realize just how badly she’s wanted someone, craved someone, especially in the kind of way that Ana Lucia offers: wordless, passionate, reckless and simple.
Ana Lucia meets her there every night after that, exactly at midnight. The first time had really been all it took for Kate to decide that she could probably use a break in routine.