I'm having trouble getting motivated lately, so I decided to write something completely gratuitous since it's worked for me in the past. So here it is, a kind of loose sequel to "Middle Ground". It's set some time in the future, after season six, when they've dealt with whatever they left behind on the island. Claire is still alive, so of course Kate was forced to give Aaron back to her. I should probably make a note of the fact that it's a slightly harder T than I usually write, since I wanted to try something new, but still not exactly smut... ;)
Chapter 1.
Pensive was the only word Jack could think of to describe Kate's expression as he stepped out of the bathroom, into the bedroom they'd moved into together just a month after escaping the island for the second time.
She was sitting up in bed, wearing the short, silk nightie she'd bought to celebrate their first night as a normal couple, but even the briefest glance could have told him that she wasn't waiting for him.
She'd seemed fine when she came in to brush her teeth, chatting to him while he finished up in the shower, but now he saw that was just a front for whatever was bothering her. In the three years he'd known her, he'd witnessed enough of her moods to recognise when she was unhappy, and she was unhappy now.
He wasn't sure he would be able to handle the answer if she told him the problem was with him, but he decided to ask the question anyway. Then, even if things fell apart, he could console himself with the knowledge that he'd tried.
"You okay?" he checked, perching on the edge of the mattress so that he was facing her, still trying to decide whether or not he should take it personally. No one could accuse him of not giving it one hundred per cent this time: as stretched as it made him feel sometimes, he was forcing himself to make it home early enough to eat dinner with her every night.
"I'm great," she agreed, forcing a smile that was just a little too bright to be convincing.
"It's nothing," she assured him with an airy laugh when he refused to break eye contact, staring her down with a sceptical a frown. "Really, Jack. I'm fine." But she averted her gaze, smoothing the wrinkles out of the bottom sheet with her palm to avoid looking at him.
He was no stranger to her evasive tactics; she was doing everything she could think of to get him to drop it, which was exactly why he knew he couldn't let it go.
Whatever she was dealing with, it didn't seem to be about him; wracking his brain for anything else that could have caused this behaviour, he remembered something he'd almost forgotten.
She wasn't in any of the usual places when he let himself in after his shift; heading upstairs in search of her, he met her on the landing just as she was coming out of one of the spare rooms.
He hadn't given it much thought at the time because most of them were empty, but in hindsight, he realised that this had to be the reason for her depressed mood. He'd made such a habit of avoiding it himself that it wasn't hard to convince himself that chapter of their lives had all been a bad dream.
"You miss him, don't you?" he asked, testing the waters, taking hold of her hand where it rested beside her and stroking her palm with his thumb.
He was relieved when he felt her tense under his grip, and he knew he'd succeeded in striking a nerve. "Yeah," she agreed after a long silence, nodding as she scrubbed at her eyes with her fingers. "I know I should be happy he's back where he belongs, but… I really miss him, Jack."
While he'd never been able to get behind the arrangement – or the lie that he was really her son – that didn't stop the sympathy he felt, seeing how deeply she was hurting. She might not have given birth to him, but after spending more than two years as his mother, could he really blame her for succumbing to it herself?
"So maybe we should talk about that," he suggested, but she shook her head.
"What difference does it make? He's not coming back." She freed her hand from his, pulling the covers up to her chest as she tried to find a comfortable position.
He sense that this wasn't what she really wanted to say, so he decided to wait it out, and his patience was rewarded when she settled back against the headboard moments later. "You know what I really miss?" she confessed.
"No, what?" he said to show her that he was listening.
"Around the time he figured out how to get himself up, he decided he didn't like his own bed, so I'd wake up in the morning and there he'd be – in mine," she told him, smiling at the memory, and picturing this, he found himself smiling too.
"That's cute."
Her smile turned wistful. "Yeah. I miss the way he'd give me these little hugs whenever he thought I was sad. I miss reading the same book twice just because it was the only way to get him to sleep. I miss tucking him in, and taking him to the park, and how floppy he got when he was tired and he wanted me to carry him."
She lowered her eyes, and he could see the shame etched into her expression as she finished, "But most of all – and I know I shouldn't – I miss hearing him call me 'Mommy'."
One of the tears she'd been fighting broke free, sliding down her cheek; unsure how else to comfort her when it was obvious that she was grieving, he wrapped an arm around her slim shoulders.
"You can tuck me in if you want," he teased her, pressing his cheek against the top of her head as his joke managed to draw out a tiny, indulgent laugh, but these words only seemed to upset her more.
"Hey," he murmured when her chest heaved and she started to cry, feeling guilty as he pulled her against him, into a proper hug. "Hey, it's okay."
She didn't try to resist, burying her face in his neck, and he just held her, stroking her hair, until her tears slowed, and she signalled for him to let her go.
"I know it's hard to believe," he told her as he watched her compose herself, "but you won't always feel this way. You just need to give it some time."
"You're right," she agreed, looking embarrassed as she wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm. "I just need to get over it."
She seemed to expect him to say something – to contradict her? – but when he wasn't quick enough to figure out what that was, she gave up.
"Goodnight, Jack." She followed this up with a swift peck on the lips, turning onto her side and burrowing under the blankets before he had time to return it.
Watching her back rise and fall as she pretended to drift off the sleep, it occurred to him that she was mad at him, for failing to decipher whatever it was that she really wanted from him. He didn't know what else he could be doing to convince her that he was there for her: he'd tried asking her what was wrong; he'd tried listening; consoling… All that left him was begging her to give him something to work with.
He leant over her so that he could read her expression, his hand resting on her bicep. "If there's something else going on, Kate, I need you to tell me," he pleaded when he saw that she was awake, her eyes glistening with fresh tears as she stared at some point straight ahead.
She continued to pretend she hadn't heard him, refusing to acknowledge that he'd even spoken, so placing a gentle kiss against the bare skin of her shoulder, he straightened, surprised when she rolled over to face him.
"It's not just Aaron I miss, Jack," she confessed, scrambling up so that they were sitting opposite each other, her knees drawn to her chest; he finally felt like there were getting somewhere until she rushed on, "I miss the way I felt when he was with me."
He understood each of the words, but together he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be concluding from them. "How did you feel?" he asked, perplexed.
She lifted her shoulders in a tearful shrug, at a loss for how else to describe it. "Like a mom. I wanna feel that again, Jack."
This time her meaning was much clearer. As he waited for this to sink in, he stared at her, stunned, willing himself not to react until he was sure that he hadn't misunderstood her. "And you think… Are you telling me you want a baby, Kate?"
He could see where she was coming from; he hadn't meant to sound so incredulous, but she seemed to take this as proof that he didn't, wrapping her arms tighter around her shins.
"I guess… maybe one day," she assured him, but he could feel her pulling away from him, erecting a barrier to match the physical one already between them. "I don't know what I think."
Fresh tears spilled over onto her cheeks, catching on her bottom lip, and just for a moment, she allowed him to see how vulnerable she was. "I just know it's like there's this… hole… inside of me that I can't fill. I hate feeling this way, Jack. It just hurts so much."
She seemed to regret this outpouring of emotion as soon as the words left her mouth; she tried to get up, to leave the bed, but he cupped her face in his palms, holding her there, with him. "If that's what you really want, Kate, then why one day? Why not now?"
She pulled back when she noticed the change in him, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "What're you saying, Jack?"
"I'm saying let's do it," he told her, shifting his hands to her shoulders. "Let's have a baby." He would have done anything he thought would make her happy, but he knew this wasn't the reason he'd suggested it. He'd waited so long for something to happen: for them to move forward, and now it seemed like his wish had been granted.
It was her turn to be speechless. "A baby? Jack, you can't be serious," she insisted, but her voice wavered, and he could feel her trembling beneath his fingers.
"Why not?" he murmured, slipping his arms around her, grazing the side of her jaw with his lips to break down her resistance. "I love you… and I want this… I just need to know you're in it with me."
She extricated herself from him, and he saw that she was grinning, her green eyes shining with happiness. "Yeah, I am," she agreed, sealing these words with a tender kiss.
Her mouth opened easily when he signalled that he wanted to deepen it, and she pulled him down so that he was flush against her, the top of her spine pressed back into the headboard.
As his hands wandered over the silky material of her nightie, hers grasped at the hem of his t-shirt; she freed herself from him long enough to tug it over his head, dropping it onto the mattress beside her.
Once his chest was exposed, she lowered her head to trail feather light kisses along his sternum – over his heart – and back up to his neck, making him shiver as her lips travelled over his collarbone, to his shoulder, down to the inky skin of his bicep.
"I lied to you," she breathed into his ear as she worked her way back to his mouth, and he almost stopped her until she cut him off by enveloping it with her own.
"I told you one day," she explained when they broke apart, "but the truth is – I've wanted this for a really long time…"
Instead of relaxing, his heart sped up on hearing these words, and he chuckled softly as he drew her back against him. "Me too."
He wanted to get even closer to her, but his angle made it impossible, so he tightened his arms around her, rolling onto his back, and they both laughed when she landed on top of him, knocking the wind out of him.
He returned his lips to hers when they got their breath back; as he continued to kiss her, she ran her palms over the firm muscles of his chest, pushing herself up so that she was straddling his waist, and with a devilish grin, peeled the nightie off and cast it to the floor.
He knew that she was trying to seduce him – to wear down his self-control – but rather than succumb, he trailed his hands up to her hips, holding her there.
"You are so beautiful," he told her, studying the unruly waves of her dark hair, her freckled cheeks, flushed with exertion, that perfect smile… The one he'd been in love with for as long as he could remember. He couldn't think of a time he'd seen her this happy. She was glowing.
Without stopping to think about what he was doing, he reached up to brush her cheek with the backs of his fingers, tracing the curve of her lips with his thumb. "I hope we have a little girl with a smile just like that," he murmured, half to himself as he tried to commit every detail of it to memory. He never wanted to forget this moment.
There were tears in her eyes as she leant forward, cupping his head in her hands and kissing him again, softer and more sweetly than she ever had before. "I love you so much," she whispered, bringing her forehead down to rest against his; her playful mood returned when, with a wicked grin to match hers, he flipped them over again so she was pinned beneath him. "Now shut up and let's find out."