Prologue

The jungle was always quieter at night. The occasional ruffle of feathers from above or the steady croaking of small frogs had become part of the sound of the wind blowing through the trees. Nothing more than the static that lulled them to sleep after long days spent exploring. Searching.

It had been months since they stood together and agreed to turn the wheel deciding to banish themselves to save everyone else; months since they found themselves still on the island, listening to the silence around them. They'd become convinced they were the only ones left, the only ones who survived a secondary purge brought on by their actions, but they never allowed themselves to say it aloud. It would mean admitting they were wrong, that what they'd done was wrong and they'd destroyed everything they had worked for.

It would mean admitting they'd won the war by killing everyone involved.

Jack took her hand, felt her squeeze tightly as another contraction rolled over her lower back and through her midsection. Her eyes pressed together and she breathed in, remaining absolutely still until it was over. She began to breathe again, roughly, breaking the silence, and the frogs in the distance begin to croak again, the birds squabbled, and the wind blew through the trees – as though the island had held its breath with her, returning to life only when she took another breath.

He nodded, placing his free hand on her right knee. They were both dampened by the humid air and the heat of her skin burned his heart. He knew she was suffering; but he knew it was a necessary sacrifice. "You're doing great, Kate."

"I need to push," she told him, her arm curling around her belly, frightened by the stillness there. The tumbling, rolling sensation she'd gotten accustomed to over the past few months had gone silent and the pressure between her legs was growing unbearable. "Jack, I need to push."

Licking his lips, he furrowed his brow and shook his head. "You need to wait. You push too soon it could be bad for you, bad for the baby." He eyed the jungle just outside the cave, wished for help, but the gentle breeze cooling the sweat at his back was its only response. Somewhere in his mind he counted as his eyes returned to the space in front of him, where he watched her muscles tense.

"Jack," she pleaded.

"Kate," he answered.

She pulled her hand away from him, adjusted herself in the bed they'd made of leaves and woven vines, and pushed herself up on her elbows, eyes squeezing shut as she held her breath through another contraction. The night went silent again and she found it comforting.

Watching her stomach growing almost daily over the past nine months, she'd slowly started to understand that this baby would not only be born, but it would be born on an island in some indeterminate time and there wouldn't be anyone else there to help them. She'd started to understand that if anything went wrong, she would die, despite all of Jack's best efforts.

So she talked to her child every day, whispered information, told stories to the wind, and imagined that they shared thoughts and dreams. She sang songs and stroked her stomach and when she was too tired, she hummed softly, feeling the strong kicks in her womb that she cherished. And every night, before her eyelids closed, she told the child firmly, "I love you."

Jack swallowed hard, his hands sliding over her thighs before he said her name, watched her eyes snap open and in their shared expression she knew it was time. Knew no matter what happened, Jack would be there for them, for their child, and she pushed. She listened to him instructing her, willed her muscles to follow his words, and she sighed as he gasped, the child slipping from her body into his hands.

She knew before he told her. They'd had a son. A boy with a full head of unruly dark hair, a strong set of lungs, and inquisitive eyes that searched the world before focusing on her face as she took him to her chest. He shivered slightly as she worked to cover him with the remnants of a sheet – one of the few things that had come with them – and Jack moved to their side, kissed her temple and brushed his large hand over the boy's head with a laugh.

Kate heard him crying, joy and relief overwhelming him, as she watched the boy in her arms stare up at him. She told him his name, looked up at Jack for approval before staring back down at him. At their son. And in her mind she thought she could hear his voice, a small voice that replied, "I love you too, mommy."