Chapter 1
18/9/1993 Just another minute till dawn arrives. Then it will be two years, two years since I've gotten myself into this marriage. It'll be our anniversary. I wonder if he remembers. I don't think he does. He never remembers my birthdays or our anniversaries. It's funny. I look at the empty space beside me and there's just this deep ache within me. But there are no tears. Just this…void. Oh he'll never know. He's already gone. He's always gone whenever I wake and comes back only when it's late at night, never knowing how I feel. Guess today will just be another day in the life of Juliet Ford.
***
It was a bright sunny morning in August. The streets, bustling with activity just an hour ago, was now still and quiet, with an occasional car roaring past. Birds twittered in their nests on tall, leafy trees lining the roads. At the end of a street stood a beautiful white mansion, a grand three-storey building set slightly apart from the other less distinguished ones in the area. In it lived the Fords and their servants.
***
And so Jacque smiled and said it doesn't matter what happens, because I will always love you. The end. She rolled her eyes, shutting the book with a snap. This has got to be the worst novel ever written. And who would call their child Jacque anyways? She sighed, carelessly tossing the book onto the couch. If her husband had witnessed what she did, he would probably throw a fit. The couch cost him more than a month's salary. That is, her husband's salary, she added wryly. "Why do authors write stories that aren't true?" She thought aloud. "They only make the readers feel depressed. I mean, how many couples actually end up happily married together?" She shook her head. Long blond tresses fell to cover her face. She pushed them back, uncurled herself from her position on the couch and stretched.
Down the hallway, the old grandfather clock began to strike. She counted silently. 8, 9, 10, 11…11 am. That makes it…13 more hours till the next day. 11 till James returns. She gazed out through the spotless glass windows unhappily. She swore she would go mad if she didn't find something to do. How about finishing up that painting you did yesterday? A voice suggested. She pondered that for a minute before deciding to do just that. Getting up, she made her way out of the living room, passing a house servant on the way.
"You want something to eat, Mrs. Ford?" The young girl asked politely. Juliet paused. Was she hungry? "No thanks, Louise. I'll wait for lunch." She smiled, then, continued on down the wide hallway, where pictures of the Ford generations hung on the walls. Daniel Ford, Joseph Ford, Josiah Ford, etc, etc. She ignored them as she climbed up the marble staircase to the first room on her right. She knew all their names by heart, thanks to her husband. She pushed away the thought that she knew was coming next. There was no use harboring bitterness. It would only make her life more miserable than it already was.
At the very top of the steps, she stopped. Thoughtful blue eyes studied a lovely portrait of a couple. Them. A little smile curled her lips. Her rugged husband had arms wrapped protectively around her waist and was gazing down at her, looking exactly like a man in love. She, however, was smiling straight at the camera, laughter in her eyes, hand on her husband's face. That was a year back. The smile vanished. Eyebrows drew together. They looked so…happy. Memories of old times flickered faintly in her mind. A sharp intake of breath. She felt a sudden urge to touch the picture, stroke his face. Perhaps that would...rekindle some of their love again.
"Mrs. Ford?"
She jerked her hand away and spun around. "Yes?"
Louise stood there, head bowed respectfully, near the stairway. "Mr. Ford called. He said he needs you to be at a dinner with him tonight and asked you to be ready by 7pm. He will send a limo for you."
She blinked. Well, guess I'm now the 'showoff' wife for him, huh. For one rebellious second, she considered the option of staying home with the pretext of feeling unwell. It was unthinkable but then she didn't care. Yet, even as she was about to speak, something held her back. By doing that, it meant that she would drive another wall between them. Did she really want that? She hesitated.
"Ma'am?" The servant was still waiting.
"Tell him...tell him I'll be ready," she whispered and managed a smile that disappeared as soon as Louise scuttled away. She was going. She didn't dare disobey. But she would hate it. She would hate it with all her heart and no one would ever know. It was a feeling she was long familiar with.
Loneliness.
Turning back, she caught sight of the picture on the wall once more. A deep sense of sadness engulfed her. Will you remember? Will you remember our anniversary tonight, James? She doubted so. Perhaps it was better not to yearn for more, but be thankful for what had been and was no longer. With one final gaze, she shut tight the door to her feelings and turned the key...the only way to keep her heart in one piece.
Locked.
***
It was the very room she knew her husband would never enter. But it was where she could truly express herself. No, she corrected. Where she could truly be herself, not pretending to be some rich man's wife. She twisted the knob in her hand. The door swung open just a little, revealing a dark windowless room. She stepped in, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Behind her, the door clicked shut. She stood there in silence for a moment, enjoying the coolness of the spacious room and hearing the quiet sounds of her own breathing. Then she reached for the light switch right next to her, flipping it. In an instant, bright light flooded the room.
She squinted slightly as the familiar surroundings came into view. Pale beige walls met a plain white ceiling. Sparse furniture occupied the room. She let her eyes roam from one object to another. A single chair, an easel, a wide wooden table and a tall shelf that held assorted bottles of paints and brushes were all that existed. And there, leaning against the wall, stretched across a wooden frame, was a half-done canvas. Standing there, she drew in a deep deliberate breath, the faint scent of paint filling her lungs. It was a room that contrasted greatly with the rest of the house. Compared to the intricate beauty of the other rooms, this, she knew, would be considered ugly by most people. Yet, it was a room that she loved...and that her husband despised. Guess beauty really lies in the eye of the beholder.
She took a step further in. But why should she care what her husband or other people thought? They never asked her once for her opinion...so why should she care about what they thought? Her lips tightened. She bent down, picked the canvas up from the floor. A lone tree in the beautiful background of bright city lights and grand buildings. Her eyes still fixated on the art piece, she began to make her way to the chair. It wasn't that the tree was horrible or anything. It was just...out of place. Her finger carefully traced the curve of a dark line. It was a tall tree, a strong tree with thick branches spreading out toward the sky, covered with full green leaves. It was a tree that one expected to last forever. She swallowed. But it wouldn't be. Her hand began to tremble. It would soon be a withering tree, a tree that had had the very life sucked out of it. A dying tree. She let the canvas clatter to the floor as she sank into the chair and began to cry.
***
There was not one thing that was the slightest bit appealing about the dilapidated buildings that clustered at the poor side of town. The black of dirt collected over countless years streaked the ugly bricked walls. All day long, rats scuttled about freely on stony pavements, darting into holes of the curb and disappearing into the endless darkness. With drug addicts stoned beyond reality and hopeless drunks littering the area, no one in their right mind and with an ounce of status would ever choose to venture there.
***
Jack Shephard thought that if he ever had visitors, the first thing that they would have a problem with would be the dull dirty brown of the front door, complete with scratches and marked with vandalism. The next would be the ancient ceiling fan. In the heat of the day, it whirled so slow he figured he might as well not have switched it on. Walls coated with a light gray surrounded him for most part of the day. Would he ever get sick of staring at them? He lowered himself heavily onto the edge of the bed. Old tired springs creaked. It wasn't that he couldn't afford a better place. It was just...he couldn't make himself care enough.
Sounds of children laughing floated into his room. Curious, because it was a rare and precious moment, he turned his head, eyes straining to see past the metal bars of the window. A couple of street kids, barely more than 7 or 8 years old, most probably the offspring of alcoholics or drug addicts, were playing on the pavement. Two of them held the ends of a bright green skipping rope. Even from a distance, he could see that the rope with frayed and well-worn. Yet, the fact didn't seem to bother the children. As he looked on, watched them having fun, not a care in this world, his heart gave a sudden tug. He startled. It had been a long time, ages, since he had had that feeling. And he wasn't sure if he wanted it back.
He slowly let out his breath through his mouth, wondering how he had managed to land himself in such a state. It was your choice, his inner voice reminded him. You chose this path. He shut his eyes tightly, refusing to go any further than that. The box of memories that were deemed too painful should never be opened. An unwelcome thought slipped into his mind, taunting him. Are you afraid of what you'll remember, Jack?
Shut up. He wanted to stop thinking. Blinking a few times, he scanned the unkempt room for his old friend.
The bottle.
Ah. His eyes snagged on a familiar shape on the bedside table, glinting in the dim orange glow of the lamp. An odd smile curled his lips before he reached for the drink. Wrapping fingers round the neck of the bottle, he brought it to himself, stared at it for a long time. He trailed his fingers down the smooth glass, the curve of the bottle. A shudder ran through him.
A bright future. That was what he had. And a great chance of being named the country's top surgeon. To say his future was bright was an understatement. He had been climbing the ladder of success faster than anyone could ever have imagined. Eyes glazed over as he pinched his lower lip. But that was before his addiction, before his love for alcohol consumed his life. And he had thrown it all away without a second thought.
Every morning since that day, he had woken up without anything in mind to do, nothing to accomplish. He hadn't even bothered to take a bath before leaving the apartment that morning. The only reason why he had left his home was because his supply of alcohol was running out. Come to think of it, it was kind of pathetic. A once prominent doctor now reduced to a sorry excuse of a man.
He shook his head. What would his parents think of him? To know that their son had turned out to become a failure. It was depressing. His life was depressing. But face it, he had no one else to blame but himself. No, he stopped and corrected himself. He had no one else. Period. He uncapped the top of the bottle, lifted it to his mouth and took a swig. The burning liquid flowed down his throat, spreading a warmness through him. Now that, he said to himself, was the real thing. Many people didn't understand why he could give up everything just for a drink. But it had become something that he felt he could not live without. He depended on it just to get through life.
It was his life.
***
"You're late."
She shouldn't have been surprised, yet, she couldn't help feeling the sting that came along with the remark. Hiding her hurt, she smoothed her features into a blank mask and replied, "I was on time. The limo was late."
He snorted softly and she struggled to hold back the sudden anger that emerged at his apparent disbelief. Oh couldn't he see how much those little flippant actions of his cut deep into her? Under the table, she clenched her hands into tight balls. "I'm telling the—"
"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. "In another few minutes, the other guests will arrive. Just smile, give the right answers when they ask you questions, alright?"
Juliet knew better than to assume that he expected an answer. It wasn't a question. It was a command. Whatever James Ford said, people did, his wife not excluded. If he said 'quiet', people fell silent. If he said 'talk', people did just that. She was sure that if he ever asked his subordinates to jump off the building, they would regardless of the consequences. He had gained that much respect from others. But not hers, that was for sure. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the flow of thoughts before they spun out of control. The next moment she opened them, she spotted a smartly-dressed couple heading toward their table. James nudged her. But there had been no need to for the well-practiced smile that she reserved for such occasions was already spreading across her face.?.
"Lilly," she cooed with a lightness in her tone that she didn't feel. "I was looking forward to meeting you." She air-kissed both sides of the older woman's cheeks. "How are you?"
"Terrible!" Lilly exclaimed, shaking her head of permed hair. To Juliet's knowledge, she was a 40-something woman who visited the hairdresser every week, played bingo with her friends every alternate day and was scared of her own shadow. Juliet knew that if she ever needed help, she couldn't count on her. "I had the most horrible day! You wouldn't believe it!"
Two hours, Julie, two hours. "Oh?"
"My husband was out this afternoon and Jenny, you know, my personal servant," she informed. "She decided to have this...fainting spell and the next thing I know, I was stuck with the unconscious maid, all alone in the house."
"No!" She feigned a shocked look.
"I know! I was so frightened. I thought she died or something," Lilly fluttered her perfectly manicured hands, chattering on and on. It reminded Juliet of a certain character she once read about. The way she was written, how she spoke, the exaggerated gestures and the rising and falling tones exactly described Lilly Greene. Shallow. Her thoughts began to wander as she tuned out the irritating, high-pitched voice of her companion. It was such a beautiful night. The stars were probably just beginning to peek out from the sky. Now if only she could—
"Juliet!"
A sharp voice that sounded like her husband's interrupted her reverie. She blinked, realizing that someone had asked her a question and she had missed it. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?" She turned to Lilly, ignoring her husband's snapping eyes.
"It's nothing. Are you alright, dear? You seem a little...dazed."
Her face flushed. "It's been a long day. I'm sorry if I wasn't paying attention just now." She changed the subject. "Anyways, how are your children doing?"
Just half an hour later, when dinner was served, James put forth a polite excuse and towed his wife out into the lobby. After sweeping the area with his eyes, he dragged her to a corner where few people lingered. There, he let go of her hand. There was no mistaking the silent anger that simmered within him.
"What," he hissed. "Are you thinking?" When she refused to answer, he took in a deep breath. "Okay. Look Juliet. I can't stand this kind of behavior anymore. First you show up late—"
She started to say something but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"That's alright. Never mind. Now you're sitting there like a stone, I don't know why, and you don't respond when my friends talk to you."
"That was once!"
"You're not showing me respect, Juliet!"
"What are we living in?" She struggled to keep her voice and tears down. "The ice age?"
His eyes flashed. "Listen, I'm not asking you to cut off a hand or leg for me. All I'm asking tonight is that you act like the way you're supposed to. My wife. I know our marriage isn't going too well—"
"Glad you noticed."
"—and I'm sorry about that. But I have a reputation to maintain. If you continue on like this...you'll just be destroying everything I've build up."
Those last words he spoke hit her hard. Tears blurred her vision. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? That she was to be blamed?
His eyes searched hers. "You understand, don't you Juliet? For my sake...for our sakes. Please. This really matters to me."
She couldn't stay there any longer. "Guess it doesn't matter to you that it's our anniversary today then," she said bitterly. "Goodnight James. I'll see you at home." With that, she turned on her heels and strode out of the hotel, leaving him standing there.
***
The sky was dark when he woke up. A cold wind was blowing into his room, causing tiny goose bumps to rise on his arms. Turning his head, he stared at the glaring red digits of the clock blearily until they came into focus.
8:10.
He had slept for nearly 2 hours. He exhaled slowly through his mouth. He hadn't known when he had fallen asleep. He supposed it must've been after he got drunk. Just like all the other times. He rolled off his back, planted his feet on the floor, nearly breaking a green glass bottle lying on its side. He grimaced and shifted his foot. A pounding headache was starting to throb at the back of his head.
I need some air. He stood up gingerly, shuffled his way through the other empty bottles scattered across the floor - he'd pick them up later – and headed toward the balcony. A black metal railing enclosed the small area, reaching up to his waist. He stepped onto the cool tiles until he could grip the bar with his hands. Less than a minute later, a rushing wind swept by, running its fingers through his hair. It felt good on his warm face.
He lowered his head then, surveying the nightlife on the streets. Drunks stumbling down the road, a young couple making out at the corner, stray cats rummaging in the garbage cans. Nothing surprising there. He was about to turn back into the room when a flash of white caught his eye. He stopped.
It was a woman. But not just any woman. This one looked as though she had just stepped out of the magazine pages. And the fact that she was beautiful didn't hurt either. He felt himself take a sudden interest. She carried an aura that clearly stated that she didn't belong here. He watched her stalk out of a nearby hotel, obviously unhappy, into a long, black limo that was waiting not too far away. In the moonlight, her skin glowed, white as ivory. As hard as he tried, he couldn't pull his eyes away from her, didn't know what it was about her that drew him like a magnet. Then a thought dropped into his mind and though he tried to push it away, it echoed relentlessly in his head. Is it because she reminds you of your past? He didn't let himself answer that. Even after the car had disappeared from his view, he continued standing there, staring after it, wondering why on earth was his heart pounding as though he had just sprinted a 5-miles.
***
"The usual?"
"Yeah." He produced a half-smile at the waitress that worked at the diner. There weren't many people patronizing the place. Every time he came, there were always only two or three customers in the diner. It was quiet...just the way he liked it. This was where he had his dinner every night. Or more specifically, he added with a small amount of shame, every night that he didn't spend holed up in his apartment, getting trashed.
He reached for the menu, not that he needed to look at it or anything. He was there so often that he was sure he had memorized every single item listed on the faded paper. He just needed something to do to keep his mind from wandering too far, in case it brought logic in and convinced him to turn from his ways. Absent-mindedly, he pressed his thumb over the edge of the paper, feeling the sharpness prick his skin.
He scoffed at the idea of how some would regard it as pain. Those were the people who haven't experienced real pain. They haven't gone through hell and back. He had. He knew what pain was. He knew how pain worked. It was the burning sensation inside you, worse than having knifes stab into your back. It was the feeling that stole your breath and kept you gasping for oxygen, as though someone had reached into you and ripped your heart out, leaving a gaping hole.
"Sir!"
He jerked, looking up at the owner of the voice. The waitress smiled uncomfortably, then, glanced down. Only then did he realize that he had clenched his fists so hard that the menu was crushed in his hand. He relaxed his muscles, letting the ball of paper fall onto the table. "Sorry," he began awkwardly. "I...I…" He faltered, finding that he was unable to explain his actions.
"Don't worry about it." She said as she swept the crumpled menu from the tabletop, and then set his dinner before him. "Enjoy your meal, Mr. Shephard."
How did she know his name?
"Your card," she said upon seeing his startled look.
He felt the heat creeping up from his neck. "Oh. Right." As she walked away, he called out after her. "Hey. Um, Ms…"
"Austen."
"Austen," he repeated then nodded. "Thanks."
A half-smile crossed her tired face. "You're welcome. Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Shephard."
In a matter of minutes, he had wolfed down his burger and fries. Sauntering to the counter, he paid his bill and was soon strolling down the street with his hands in his pockets, wondering what he should do next and whether or not to return home for another drink. All of a sudden, he heard a weak mew. He stopped, which was strange because normally he wouldn't have bothered - there were always cats prowling around the area, making noise, but this one caught his attention. He took a few steps back and peered into the dark alley. He couldn't spot anything. He squinted harder, hearing another soft mew. Then his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness.
A black cat was lying on its side, crying out to him pitifully. His heart softened. It's a poor little cat, Jack. Only a cat. As he went a little closer, he realized that it was actually more of a kitten than an adult cat. And it looked as though it needed help. Desperately.
He squatted down beside it. It mewed again, blue eyes gazing up at him. His chest tightened. He realized that there was no way he could walk away from there without doing something for the animal. Carefully sliding strong yet gentle hands under the kitten, he scooped it up and cuddled it to his chest. It purred, rubbing its head against his shirt. When he felt his heart tug like it had just hours before, he wondered if somewhere, buried deep inside him under all the layers of hurt and bitterness, was a tiny piece of the Jack Shephard of old.
Perhaps not all has changed, Jack. Perhaps there is still something to hope for.
A little spark lit within him and he was almost certain, almost, that perhaps things could become better…perhaps he could change. Not you, Shephard, a voice whispered. Not with your addiction…and your past.
Shame and guilt returned with a fury. It was right. He would never be the same old Jack again. It could never be alright again.
Chapter 2
It was late into the evening when she returned home. Home was the tiny apartment in a three-storey building just across the road opposite where she worked. It had been for nearly a year now. Slowly, step by step, she struggled up the narrow stairway, in her arms, her young slumbering son. Jacen.
His blond head rested awkwardly at the edge of her shoulder, about to roll off any second, and she adjusted it to a more comfortable position. There, much better. A soft sigh filled her ear, causing a flicker of a tired smile to cross her face. She lived for these moments. Little things like that reminded her once again why she was chose this life. It explained how she was able to work every single day of the week for 12 straight hours. She clutched the small, warm body tighter as she carefully ascended the last of the stairs. Obviously she could not bring her son to work so in the day, she would leave him with her landlady living just below them. For a small sum, of course. It wasn't the kind of care that she would choose for her only son, but then again, she didn't have any other choice. She made a left turn, stopping just in front of her apartment, and dug into her jeans for the key.
It wasn't there.
She frowned, shifted the toddler to the other arm and tried the other pocket. Still there was nothing. For one second, she wondered what would happen if she gave just one long, loud, frustrated scream. That would feel good for sure.
Okay, Kate. You can handle this. It's just a minor problem. No need to blow your top. You've faced problems a hundred times worse than this.
With much effort, balancing her son and her few packages, she rummaged about in her handbag and finally found what she was looking for. Her rust-spotted key. As she inserted the tip of metal piece into the keyhole, she wondered somewhere at the back of her mind.
If she really had screamed, what would have happened?
***
She stepped out from the shower cubicle, reached for the thin, pink towel by the wall. Wrapping it around her body, she moved towards the mirror above the sink, avoiding her newly-washed waitress uniform that was left to dry on a hanger. Water droplets dripped from its edges, one by one, onto the wet floor.
Drip, drip, drip.
In the bathroom, they echoed an emptiness that was inside her. Water trickled down her legs onto the rough tiles, merging with the puddles on the ground. She leaned against the sink, the smooth white edge grasped in her hands.
Kate.
There it was. She knew it would never leave her alone. Every night the voice haunted her.
Kate, it insisted.
Go away, she told it angrily. Leave me alone.
You need to listen.
I won't, she replied stubbornly.
If you don't forget him, you and Jacen will be doomed to live this kind of life. You don't want him to live like this, do you? Grow up in this kind of environment?
At that, all thoughts that she was supposed to be ignoring it disappeared and she began to argue. We will not! He will come back. He promised.
How long ago has that been?
Her grip on the sink tightened. Tears threatened to escape from the corners of her eyes.
Wake up, Kate. It said quietly. He's gone. He's never going to come back.
She shook her head painfully. No. He said…he said he loved me.
Does he now?
Silent sobs wracked her body as she slid down the wall onto the floor. Pressing her fist to her mouth, she began to cry.
***
He found her lying awake in their bed, the room lit only by the bedside lamps. He let out a small sigh. Well, time for you to apologize, James. He shrugged off his black coat, tossed it onto the back of a chair, and rubbed his face with a hand. She knew he was there. She was just waiting for him to speak. Very typical of women, he thought wryly.
With carefully measured steps, he walked to the bed and sat down by her side. She was lying beneath the covers, her silky blond hair spread on the pillow. She looked so beautiful. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't looking at him. He touched her hair gently, ran his fingers down the golden strands.
"I'm sorry," he whispered roughly.
She didn't move, didn't even blink.
"Juliet..."
When she finally met his gaze, he noticed the tears shimmering in her blue eyes. "Oh Julie, I'm so sorry." He pulled her into his embrace, stroking her hair as she buried her face in his shirt. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "It's just...sometimes I wish you understand the situation I am in." At that, he felt her stiffen. She pulled away from his arms, looked at him with an emotion he couldn't quite discern. He frowned a little. "What?"
"What...what situation?" Her voice was quiet.
"Well," he shifted on the bed. "You've got to understand that I'm in a position where people are always looking at me, judging me by my actions, by what I say and...they're also looking at you. You're my wife. Like today, I did mention to arrive at seven but—"
"I told you. It wasn't my fault!"
"I find it hard to believe, Juliet, that the service that I've depended on for years failed me."
She shoved her fists into the bed, afraid that if she didn't, she would start hitting her husband. "You would rather believe that than me?"
"Perhaps if you would stop pushing the blame and be more understanding—"
"More understanding?" Her heart was beating so loudly she could practically hear it in her ears. "Look James, ever since I married you, I've tried to be understanding. There's no way I can be more understanding than I am now. I've tried to be the best wife possible. I do whatever you tell me too, even when I hate it. And I...I mingle with your friends—"
"My friends?" He cut in incredulously. "They're yours too."
"No. They're not." She stared at him coldly. "If you haven't noticed, James, I've nothing in common with those people."
"Those people are our kind of people, Juliet. I'm sure you know that by now. They give us—"
"Status?" Her eyes never left his. "Is that what you were about to say?"
"Whether you like it or not, Juliet, that's a huge part of who we are."
She pressed her lips together. For you maybe, James. Not for me.
"You chose this kind of life when you married me. I work hard. That's why we are where we are now. People look up to us, Juliet. Do you think I really enjoy spending time away from home?"
Home is where your heart is.
"I really don't understand why you're still not satisfied," he shook his head, puzzled. "I give you everything you need."
"No." She shot one look at her husband. "Not everything James." With that, she burrowed herself back under the covers and shut her eyes.
Conversation over.
***
'Jack, listen to me. It wasn't your fault.' He clutched his throbbing head between his hands. He wanted to tune them out. 'We couldn't have saved her. She would have died in weeks even if she had survived the operation.' He had heard similar words during the past few days. Yet, they always sounded hollow to his ears. Lies. They were all lies. 'It was my fault. If I'd tried harder...If I'd—' 'Listen to me! There was no way we could have pulled this one through. And I'm telling you it was not your fault she died.' The guilt was pounding inside of him with every heartbeat. Tears blinded his eyes such that his vision was blurred before him. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat to speak. I could've saved her. I could've...I...
He bolted straight up in the darkness, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. A familiar pain seared right through his head, causing a swear word to involuntarily escape from his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps he should not have drunk so much before sleeping. He should've known better. Leaning back gingerly, he rested his head on the cracked wall.
Jack, Jack, Jack...
He quietly released a tired sigh, imagined all his troubles dispersing with the floating air particles. A soft, furry touch on his sole nearly caused him to jump a foot from his bed.
What the—
He glanced down. The black kitten meowed up at him, its blue eyes glinting in the rays of moonlight.
Oh right, he had forgotten all about his night rescue.
It placed its front paws on his legs and meowed again. The tiniest of all smiles crossed his face as he watched the young cat try making its way to him, tumbling over the tangled blankets in the process. "Hey there," he greeted it cordially in his hoarse voice as it began its climb up his chest. The kitten purred in reply and licked his face with its little rough tongue. He laughed and was surprised. It had been ages since he had heard himself laugh aloud, what more without any undertones of bitterness or sadness. He rubbed the kitten's head. "Perhaps you're good for me," he said, looking into the glowing blue eyes that seemed to comfort him. "I'd like you to stay here with me."
You're crazy Jack. Listen to yourself. You're talking to a cat.
His jaw muscle twitched. So he had descended to such depths that his only companion was an animal. But who cared? Certainly not him.
By now, the kitten had curled up into a ball on his stomach, apparently choosing to spend the rest of the night there. He looked at it, the only living thing that probably cared about his existence right now. Nobody else cared after...he pulled his eyes away. After that incident. He swallowed hard. Tears came to his eyes...but he would not cry. He promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn't.
Sleep Jack, sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day.
He slid back down onto the bed.
The memories will fade. The pain will disappear.
He gazed out at the bright, shining moon and shut his eyes.
Lie Jack, lie to yourself. Everything will be alright.
***
Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air the morning she was heading to her usual place of solace. The servants that passed her on their way down gave her odd stares, as though they knew something she didn't but were just plain too scared to tell her. A small worried frown crept onto her forehead.
It's just your imagination, Juliet, she told herself. You're frightening yourself for no reason.
Yet she could not help the uneasy feeling that was tying her stomach into knots as she drew closer and closer to the room. She placed her hand on the knob, hesitated for the slightest moment, then, pushed the door open. The second it swung round to reveal the interior, she saw the reason why they were behaving the way they were.
Gone. They were all gone. Her beloved paintings were gone. Her canvases, her paint brushes, her easel. All that was left in the room were the table, the chair and an empty shelf.
Her mouth parted but the words did not come. She stood there, frozen, in the open doorway.
Who did this, was the only thought whirling about in her brain.
And only one answer came to her mind.
Her husband.
She flew down the stairs. With each step, her anger grew by leaps and bounds until she felt it flowing through her veins, pumping in her head. He had no right to take whatever that was left of hers.
Perhaps he didn't know, a voice argued. But reasoning made no sense now. Because at that moment, she was sure she had never hated anyone as much as she hated her husband right now.
Chapter 3
19/9/1993 He took them. He actually took my work without my permission and cleared out the rest of my painting materials. My paint, brushes, canvases – they're all gone. He threw them all away. It's not my room anymore. I don't belong here. I hate him.
***
She was seated on a bench near a deserted playground in an area far from that Ford mansion that was unknown to her. Eyes stared before her unseeingly. Hands grasped the edge of the wooden bench so tightly, her knuckles were white.
The sky would be turning dark soon. In another few minutes, the sun would have completely disappeared from sight, having descended the horizon. Soft fading colours of pink and purple were splayed across the sky with the last of the glorious evening rays. A little cool breeze blew in her direction, ruffling her long blond hair.
But she was noticing none of it. All she could do was to replay the phone conversation she had hours earlier as she struggled to keep her tears at bay. She had been right. Her husband had taken her work and when she had called him demanding an explanation, his voice had been steely over the line as though he did not know that he was in the wrong. There had been no apology, nothing...only arguments defending his actions.
'Where did you take my paintings?' 'Juliet—' 'WHERE?' There was a sigh at the end of the line. 'I sold them.' 'What?' 'They're just paintings. For heaven's sake, you're over-reacting.' 'I don't think so James! They mean a lot to me!' 'It's for your good.' 'For my good? Come on James! That's nothing more than a pathetic excuse for your actions. You're the most SELFISH—' 'Look! I am not going to let my wife spend her days in a room doing some stupid stuff that's not of value!' That last sentence left her dumbstruck. 'Go out with friends. Have fun. Talk for hours on the phone. I would love for you to do that Juliet. Listen, I have to go. I've got a meeting in a few minutes. I'll see you at home.' The line went dead.
For the rest of the day, she had been wandering about on the streets in a dazed state. Her heart felt like a heavy stone within her. Was her husband actually forbidding her to do what she loved doing? What kind of husband would do that?
She didn't know how long she had been sitting, or what time it was. Even when the breeze grew to a strong wind that caused goose bumps to rise on her arms, still she did not get up to head for home. Her place of solitude and peace was no longer. She had nowhere to go.
***
"No, you stay in," he said before shutting the door and turning around.
A single light flickered weakly at the end of the hallway. There he spotted the stairs that would lead him down to the streets. Passing the doors in the darkened hallway with his hands tucked in his pockets, he wondered what the kind of lives the other residents led. Were they alcoholics too? Drug addicts? Families too poor to afford payment a decent house?
As he thought on, he heard from behind one of the closed doors, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a pained cry. Despite himself, he stopped in his footsteps. For nearly a minute, he wavered between two decisions – to intervene or to mind his own business?
You can't help Jack, came the hateful whisper. You're a failure. You couldn't even save the one you loved. What makes you think you can save this one?
With his head bowed, he walked on, shutting out the muffled screams that rang in the air.
***
I'm lost.
It took her a whole hour of wandering around, turning multiple corners and landing in areas that were unfamiliar before admitting to herself that she had lost her way. She was cold and shivering. On her hands and knees were scrapes from when she had fallen earlier over a curb. It had hurt, but she hadn't cried. She had no tears left to cry.
Oh God, help me.
She pressed numbed hands against her body, tucking them under her arms. A chilly wind blew past, sending shivers running through her. She took a quick glance at the dark sky. It was either really late at night or else it was about to rain. She hoped it was not the latter.
On and on she stumbled through the streets that were dimly lit by the lamps lined up by the path. Every now and then, she would think that she spotted a familiar landmark, only to realize with disappointment that it was only her imagination.
Oh, please, please.
Buildings surrounded her on every side. They all looked the same to her, sans the different heights, and it came to the point where she was thoroughly in despair and was compelled to approach a certain man by an alley. She had hesitated to ask for directions before because all she had seen were men and they appeared to be the kind that she would label under the category sleazy.
But she had no choice, had she?
She paused, biting her lower lip. Her eyes carefully surveyed the dark-haired man leaning against the brick wall. Blue smoke emitted from the cigarette that was hanging from his thin lips. A faint, reddish scar travelled from his cheekbone to the side of his chin. She swallowed, deciding that perhaps she wouldn't ask after all.
She bent her head, letting her blond hair cover her face, and was about to make her way past when all of a sudden, a hand shot out and caught her arm. She jerked to a stop, startled, and looked up to meet the colorless eyes of the stranger. With her heart pounding, she asked politely for him to release her, but he refused. She tried pulling away but he wouldn't let her. A wide grin on his face, showing a mouthful of black, decaying teeth, told her that he was enjoying her discomfort.
Just as she was about to panic and was considering screaming, she heard a low voice from seemingly nowhere that spoke firmly, 'Leave her alone'.
She nearly cried in relief when that man obeyed, letting go of her arm and scurrying away. She whirled around, wanting to thank the one who saved her.
But he was gone.
She frowned, trying to define the moving shapes in the darkness, but it was in vain. Whoever had been there just a second ago, was no longer around.
Then, it began to rain.
***
He was getting soaked to the skin, pelted by raindrops, but he didn't care. He liked the feeling, liked the thought of the rain washing away his problems and most importantly, the blackness eating away in his soul. The few people huddling under the shelters by the road stared at him, but he walked on, ignoring their curious gazes.
He thought of the woman he had rescued just minutes before. She looked a lot like the one he saw last night. Blond hair, blue eyes. She had the presence of an angel. But as alike as they appeared, he was not sure they were the same person. He just knew that it felt good, helping someone in need.
When he had enough of walking in the pouring rain, he darted into the only shop that still had a light on. The high tinkle of a bell reached his ears as he pushed the door open.
"Hello," a voice greeted him cheerfully. "May I help you?"
"Uh...no," he stuttered, searching for the owner of the voice. An elderly man, whom he assumed was the store keeper, came into view. "I'm...I'm just...looking around."
"Well then," he replied, eyes twinkling. "Take your time." With that, he turned around, calling over his shoulder. "We close in another hour, so you don't have hurry."
He ran his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. The droplets of water fell to the ground, staining it a darker shade of gray. His eyes slid over the items that were up for sale.
Paintings.
It was then when he realized that it was where the strange smell in the shop was coming from. He began walking through the aisles. It was only a small shop, probably twice the size of his apartment, which was really more of a bedroom with a balcony, but the large number of paintings surprised him. They were all very pretty, he had to admit although he would hardly call himself a painter, but one piece in particular caught his eye.
It was a beautiful picture of a magnificent tree, complete with bright green leaves and rough dark brown branches, against a background of tall, steel buildings and colorful city lights.
He cocked his head. The longer he stared at the painting, the more he felt compelled to buy it. His hand reached for the back of his jeans...and found nothing.
He had forgotten to bring his wallet.
***
It was near midnight when she returned home. Her husband was still up, apparently waiting for her.
"Where did you go?"
"Out," she replied listlessly.
"Do you know what time it is?"
He's furious. She shrugged. "5 till midnight?" As she pulled out clothes out of the drawer, she felt him scrutinize her, trying to figure out what was up. She turned around. "If there's nothing more, I'm going to bathe. Sorry for making you stay up. Goodnight." She walked to the bathroom, shutting the door with a firm click.
Chapter 4a
22/10/1993 It's been weeks now. I still haven't managed to find the man who rescued me that night. I don't know why, but I cannot stop trying. There's this urge inside me that makes me keep on searching and searching until I find him. It's foolish I know. Still... I'm going out again tonight. James just left this morning to catch a flight to London. He says he wouldn't be back till the first of November. Work, he says. Somehow, I don't really care anymore. This house feels empty even when he's around.
***
It was more than a month later when he spotted her again. He unexpectedly found her in a place where he had least expected her to be - the bar where he now worked five nights every week, playing the piano. The pay wasn't much, but it was enough, enough to support his ever-worsening drinking habit and to keep him from starving. That night, he was mindlessly playing a few popular tunes as usual, his eyes scanning the guests in the area every few minutes. It was then when he saw her. He had been surprised, even took a second look because he was sure he had seen the wrong person.
But no, it was her alright. He could not have forgotten her even if he tried.
She sat at one of the round tables in the midst of the faint smoke, sipping from the glass of vodka between her hands. Blond hair hung straight past her shoulders instead of being pinned up in its usual place, framing her face. He decided he liked it that way. It made her look younger, more vulnerable. Nobody came to sit with her, so he figured she came on her own. For the two hours that she sat there, he stole glances at her. She was hardly aware of all that was going on, lost in her own world of thoughts. And on and on he played, fingers moving effortlessly over the black and white keys even as he paid more attention to her than to the piano pieces.
She left that night without even noticing him. She didn't even offer him a single glance. Somehow, he felt vastly disappointed. He told himself that he was interested because of different reasons. He wasn't trying to ask her out or anything. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. Yet, he could not deny the sudden race of his pulse, the fierce pounding of his heart that happened the very moment his eyes landed on her.
He wanted to see her again.
***
It was late, probably near 11 at night, but still she went. For what seemed like the thousandth time, she returned to the same street where she had been lost not that long ago. She had been there many times now, always trying without avail to find out who was the one who had rescued her.
Ever since that night, no one had bothered her or tried to make any trouble for her. Now it was her who was trying to approach people and strangely enough, they were the ones to shy away from her. After about an hour later and countless times knocking doors, she sighed and decided that she had enough for today. She was heading back to the mansion.
As she passed by one of the many allies on the street, she heard a sound quite like a baby's soft cry. She frowned. It couldn't be, could it? Would she actually find an abandoned baby here? She stepped cautiously into the alley, accidentally kicking over some empty beer cans. They tumbled into each other, making a loud ruckus in the still night. The cry grew in volume and intensity, sounding less like a baby now, and more of an animal.
Another few steps in and she saw the problem. A cat had its claws stuck in a rolled piece of metal grill near the garbage cans, which, she discovered as she went a little closer, were giving off a putrid smell. She wrinkled her nose and stopped. The cat mewed again and shook its paw. The metal grill made a rattling sound.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," she muttered and hurrying to it, bent down to examine the situation. "Don't you dare scratch me," she told the cat, which mewed an agreement. Satisfied, she took hold of the paw that was stuck and carefully, began to dislodge it from the grill. In a matter of seconds, it was free. The black cat rubbed its head on her leg and purred. She smiled, stroking its fur. Picking it up awkwardly, she held the animal close to her. "You'll be fine," she whispered. "I'll take care of you."
As she stood up, there was a shuffling sound behind her. She spun around, fully expecting a drunken man of some sort to come stumbling in. She clutched the cat closer to her as the tall stranger stepped out of the shadows. She saw at once that it was a man alright, but not a drunken one. And he didn't look as though he was going to cause her any trouble. She breathed a sigh of relief and loosened her grip on the now squirming cat. For about a minute, he said nothing. She wondered if she should just leave when the cat finally managed to jump down from her arms. To her surprise, it headed straight for the stranger and rubbed around his ankles. He stooped down and scooped it up.
"Oh," she realized. "It's...yours."
"Yeah." He paused for a moment. "It is."
She knew it was rude but she couldn't help staring at him. He gave an uncomfortable smile. A frown crept onto her forehead and wondered what on earth it was that was so familiar about him.
And all of a sudden, it struck her.
It was him.
***
He could not believe that his wish had come true. But there she was, standing right in front of him, just as he had seen her hours ago in the bar. And he had no words to speak. His cat lay in his arms, a warm purring bundle of fur. He had returned to his apartment after work and upon realizing it was missing, had immediately gone on a frantic search for it. It was only because of it that he had come out there.
And now here he was. And he had met her here on the streets. It was a miracle he wasn't grinning like an idiot. He sure hadn't felt that good for a long time.
"I seem to recognize you from somewhere," she was saying in that beautiful voice of hers. "You're the one who helped me a month ago in this very same area, aren't you?"
He only shrugged his shoulders.
She tilted her head and continued staring at him with her blue eyes. "I'm very certain you are. You sound the exactly the same...though I don't know about the look," she admitted. "Still, I'm sure you are the one...aren't you?"
She was waiting for his answer. So he nodded once and she broke into a smile that lit up her face even more. He couldn't tear his gaze away even if he tried. Careful, Jack, careful. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
"You wouldn't believe how much time I've spent searching for you. For weeks, I've been asking all around here, knocking on doors—"
"Don't."
She paused. "What?"
"It's not safe."
"I know, but—"
"It's not safe," he repeated, interrupting her. "These people that live here are capable of doing anything. It's not safe for you to—"
"You live here," she said.
He looked away. "It's different."
Different alright, the voice jeered. Tell her Jack. Tell her what you've done. Tell her all that you've been doing. Tell her how much you love to drink. Tell her what kind of man you have become.
"How different?" Her voice had softened to a gentler tone that made him melt inside. When their eyes met, he could feel the heat burning on his face. He looked away again.
When it was clear that he was not going to answer, she moved on. "I'm Juliet," she said, taking a step closer to him and offering her hand. It made him smile a little. That was a gesture he had never expected to see again.
"Jack," he said finally. "I'm Jack Shephard."
A warm smile spread across her face. "Jack Shephard. It's nice to meet you." She took his hesitant hand and shook it. "Thank you." At his quizzical gaze, she added, "For helping me the other day."
He blinked, then, averted his eyes. "It was nothing."
He's shy, she realized with a start. On second thought however, she decided that he was not exactly shy, but it was more of him being in awe of her. The more she studied him, the more she found him intriguing. He didn't seem to fit in this sort of environment.
Oh Juliet, you barely know him, a voice chastised.
Yeah, still...
"Where do you live?"
Where did she live?
He must have seen the look she had on her face because he hurriedly apologized. "Sorry. I didn't...I mean...I didn't mean it the way it sounds...I..." He trailed off, at a loss for words, the reddening color on his face betraying his embarrassment. "Sorry," he muttered.
"Don't be," she said, trying to lessen his discomfort. "I live near the main city, about an hour or so if you travel on foot, a little less than 20 minutes by bus. Listen, can I repay you for helping me that day? Money..."
He scowled deeply. "I'm not poor."
This time it was her who turned a lighter shade of red. "Of course not. I'm sorry."
"I don't need anything," he said gruffly. "I'm alright. I've got a job."
She bit her lower lip. Look, Juliet, now you've gone and offended him.
"You didn't offend me."
Her eyes widened. "How did you..." Know, she wanted to say but he was staring at her as though he had no idea what he had just done. "Never mind," she mumbled. For awkward seconds, they just stood there, not talking. The cat, tired of being ignored, jumped down and made a beeline for her legs.
"He likes you," Jack said as it rubbed itself around her ankles, purring so loudly it sounded as though it had a motor running inside its body. She giggled and crouched down to pat its head.
"He has very pretty blue eyes," she remarked, looking back up at him. "I wish—"
"They're like yours."
"Mine?" She inquired, puzzled.
"Your eyes," he explained. "They're...very pretty."
Oh. She felt herself blushing. "Thanks." Giving the cat one last pat, she stood up, straightening her outer coat. "I have to go now. It's getting really late." She could see that he was visibly disappointed at her departure, but it was really getting late and the last bus would be leaving soon. She didn't want to miss it and have to walk all the way back home in the dark. Gingerly, she picked the cat up and handed it to him. "You're a good owner," she said. "To come out here at night just to look for him."
He shrugged. "I just returned from work...so it wasn't much of a problem."
"Where do you work?"
"The bar...about a mile down the road."
"Oh." It dawned upon her that it was the same place she had been to just hours ago. "Were you..." She frowned a little. "Were you the one playing the piano?"
A faint smile spread across his face, answering her question, and it made her notice, a little guiltily, how handsome he really was.
"You saw," he said.
"Of course. You're a wonderful pianist," she told him. "Well, I really have to go. It was nice meeting you Jack. I hope to see you again soon." With that, she flashed him another smile and left to catch the bus.
Chapter 5a
The bus rattled its way nosily through the bumpy road in the dark night. Occasional cars would appear every few minutes, roaring past the vehicle and disappearing in the distance. She had taken a seat on one of the green, tattered chairs by the open window, fingering the ring that hung on a slender chain around her neck. It was there since about a month ago, usually hidden beneath her top but once in a while, she would take it out, just to feel the familiar smooth metal against her skin.
You're attracted, aren't you? Her inner voice whispered in a not very nice way.
Don't be ridiculous, she replied sharply. I barely know him. He's practically a stranger to me.
But you don't deny that you're interested.
Of course I am, she said. He helped me. But my interest is strictly in a non-romantic sense. I have a right to be interested in knowing who he is. I just want to repay him for what he did for me.
Really. Yes.
There was silence for a while. He's cute.
Be quiet. She tried to concentrate on the scenery whizzing past her instead.
He's interested in you.
He's just lonely, she argued. He just needs...a friend.
And how would you know?
She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the point that the voice seemed to be driving at. She would ask it to stop but she knew it would be just a waste of breath. Or, well, technically, she wasn't speaking so it wasn't really a waste of breath. She sighed as the bus screeched to a stop and opened its doors, letting an elderly couple on. She smiled at the lady, meanwhile thinking how strange it was for them to be out so late at night. As the bus resumed its journey, so did the conversation.
You'll be going back to that bar tomorrow, aren't you?
She chewed on her lower lip. So what if I am?
There were no more answers. It didn't have to answer. She let out another sigh and let the ring drop from her fingers. Her intentions were purely out of goodwill and gratitude...weren't they?
***
She had seen him. And she had actually talked to him! She actually said that she hoped to see him again soon!
"Well now, someone's looking happy today."
Interrupted from his train of thoughts, he looked up and met Kate Austen's teasing face. "Oh," he reddened. "Sorry, I didn't notice you."
"Well if not noticing me makes you all happy, maybe you should notice me less often." She laughed as he grew even redder. "So. What's this special thing that makes our Jack Shephard all smiley today and makes him appear before," she turned and squinted at the round clock on the wall. "10 at night." She clucked her tongue. "No offence Jack, but it's truly a miracle for you to be here for breakfast. It's only 8."
"I know. I couldn't sleep."
"You didn't..."
He caught her drift and felt his ears burn. "No...not...last night."
She looked surprised. And she had a right to be. She knew roughly how much he drank in a day and for him to abstain from drinking for even one night was unheard of. "Wow. Now that's an accomplishment. Are you trying to quit?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. She was always on his case about his drinking obsession, but he had to admit, her words had always fallen on deaf ears. "No, no...I wasn't."
She lifted an eyebrow, noticing his use of past tense. "Does that mean...that you are...now?"
He broke eye contact. "I don't know. I'm not ready yet. It's all I have...this...drinking. Besides," he looked back solemnly. "I don't think I can."
"You don't have to think if you can Jack," she said softly. "You just have to try."
"If only it were that easy." He lowered his voice and fidgeted. "I'm not even sure if I want to." He could see that she didn't understand but he wasn't in the mood of explaining his past. It was all too complicated. He drew in a deep breath and with a tight smile, changed the subject. "How's your kid?"
"Jacen?" Her face brightened. "Oh he's doing great. He's growing fast and learning quite a lot of words already. Before I know it, he'll be off to school."
"I guess you'll miss him then."
She let out her breath in a sigh. "I miss him even now. I wish I could work less."
"Everyone—"
"Austen!"
She glanced back at the counter.
"Customer." The man nodded toward another table where a family of 4 was seated.
She rolled her eyes. "Well…duty calls." She said and turned to leave when she realized that she hadn't taken his order. "Oh wait. What would you like to have?"
He scratched his head and thought for a while. "I don't know…anything that you think is good for breakfast."
She looked at him strangely. "Boy, you must be real happy today."
Am I? He stared after her retreating back. He hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, only that he was feeling a lot lighter than he had for a long time. He decided that must be good. He yawned, stretched and leaned back on the seat. Somehow, he had this feeling that perhaps, he would see her again tonight.
And so he did. He saw her that night, and the following three nights after that. She would always appear around the same time, dressed in outfits that weren't too showy, making sure she did not attract unwanted attention. Then she would head over to sit at a table in a corner where it was too dark for anyone who wasn't looking carefully to notice her. Then for the rest of the night he would feel her eyes upon him as he played and he knew she was listening to him. Somehow just knowing that little fact pleased him immensely.
After he had finished his job for the night, he would then spend another hour conversing with her before she had to leave. She never minded answering his questions. Of course, that may be because she had plenty of questions of her own to ask. Some he answered, many he didn't. Despite that, he found himself being more talkative around her. She had a way about her that allowed him to let his guard down and relax, something that only a few weeks ago a drink could have done. Since that night he had not touched a bottle. He had quit lying to himself. He liked her. He really, really liked her. But every time he had the slightest suspicion that she liked him, the cursed voice would speak up and say it was only his imagination.
And she still doesn't know about your addiction.
I haven't drank a single drop in days, he replied irritably. His finger slipped and accidentally hit a wrong note. He grimaced, and hoped no one noticed. Looking up, he saw her hiding a smile and knew that if anyone did notice, it was her. He smiled wryly to himself then shifted his eyes to the watch on his wrist. If he wasn't mistaken, he only had a few more minutes before his shift was over.
Time seemed to drag on and on. When he thought it must have been already at least fifteen minutes, it was finally over. He played the last few notes, trying not to make it seem hurried. Then he stood up, took a small bow, which was really more of a nod of his head, and strode down the few steps that lead up to the stage. As he drew closer to her, his heartbeat started to quicken, which wasn't unusual. Every time he saw her, he would experience the same hard thumping of his heart and slight breathlessness. "Hey," he greeted her, sinking into one of the red comfy padded chairs surrounding the table.
"You were a little rushed there at the end," she remarked with a slight teasing smile on her face. "Good pianists don't do that."
He chuckled, knowing from previous conversations that she too played the piano. He learnt that she was rich – understatement, he thought, didn't need to work, and basically had nothing much to do all day. "I guess I was pretty eager to end tonight's shift. It's been a long night." He shook his head as the waiter approached to take his order. He wasn't thirsty.
"Yeah?"
He nodded. They sat in silence for a moment. He looked at her, for the thousandth time admiring her beauty, the way her hair hung perfectly over her shoulders. "So...besides reading and playing the piano, what else do you like to do?"
Her eyes lit up. "Painting."
"You paint?"
He watched as the light faded. "Used to," she said in a low voice. "Not anymore." She reached for her glass and sipped from it, not meeting his curious gaze, obviously not wanting to explain more.
He wondered what it was that could have made her mood change so suddenly. So...she had her own secrets to hide...like his own. It never really occurred to him that she would have deep dark secrets too - at least, not until this very night. Thinking that he better move on other subjects, he chose a random topic that seemed relatively safe to talk about. "So...have you ridden a motorbike before?"
Not at all seeming startled at the abrupt change of subject, she shook her head silently.
"You've never been on one," he echoed her unspoken answer. "Nope."
"So...what have you been on?"
She shrugged. "Limos."
He could only stare at her incredulously. He had expected other answers besides that, but there was nothing else. To describe her as rich was truly an understatement.
She caught his gaze. "Well...if you count the past month, then I've been learning how to take buses," she added with a weak smile.
"Walk a lot?"
"Not really. I never needed to."
"When you were in school?" He was still staring at her in disbelief.
She ran her fingers through her hair and replied sheepishly, "There was always someone to pick me up."
Told ya she's not for you. She's of a different breed.
Different breed, my foot, he said icily. Its smugness annoyed him beyond measure. He wondered what it would take to shut the voice up for good.
"Jack?"
He liked hearing her say his name. "Sorry, I didn't hear what you just said," he gave her a look of apology. "I was thinking of...something. Could you repeat that?"
"I asked if you know how to ride one," she said.
He shifted in his seat. "I used to own one...long ago. Then I sold it because I didn't need it anymore." He gave a sudden grin. "I take the bus nowadays...and I walk a lot more. Good exercise."
She laughed. "I suppose. I always thought riding a motorbike was really fun. At least it looks like lots of fun, but Ja—," she caught herself just in time. "I mean, I just never found the time." She felt her face heating up. Thankfully, he did not notice anything out of the ordinary.
"Would you?"
She looked puzzled. "Would I what?"
He went on carefully. "Ride one if you had the chance to."
"Sure, why not?" She said without hesitation. Then, as though she was reminded of something, she glanced at her wristwatch.
"Gotta go?" He asked.
"Yeah, sorry Jack, but I'm expecting a phone call tonight...or morning since it's already past twelve," she laughed – a little uncomfortably, he thought.
"Alright then," he paused. "Will you be coming again?" He waited anxiously for her answer. She assured him that she would be, and with a last smile, telling him that he need not see her off, she weaved her way through the emptying bar and disappeared through the doors.
Interesting. There had to be more to this Juliet than what she had told him, and he could not wait to find out.
***
"Hey Julie."
He sounded so tired over the phone that for that moment, she felt a tiny flicker of concern. "Are you alright? You seem—"
"I'm fine," he interrupted, sounding annoyed. "I can take care of myself. I just need a little sleep, that's all. I've been up the whole night."
The little bit of concern was gone in an instant. "I'm sorry," she said quite frostily.
He did not notice the change in her tone. "Look, I may have to extend my stay here for another two weeks. Something cropped up at the last minute. If I don't take care of it now, it may become a huge problem for the company in the future." He stopped as if considering a second thought. "I hope you understand."
It was a strange mixture of feelings in her when she heard the news – sad...happy, yet irritated. She didn't know if that was a good sign or not. She'd given up trying to comprehend how she felt months ago. They were too complicated. She twirled the gray phone cord around her index finger. "Um."
"How're things at home?"
"Fine," she answered.
"Right, I'll be off now. As soon as the matter's settled, I'll be on my way back. Take care."
Even before she could say her goodbyes, he had hung up the phone. She sighed, and returned the phone back to its cradle with a soft click. He sounded so distant on the line, so...far away. But why should she have expected anything more? Even when he was with her, she felt the same way. For no good reason, tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She quickly dried them with the back of her hand before they had a chance to fall.
It was enough. Leaning back against the couch, she closed her eyes, drawing slow, deep breaths. After a long while, her hand reached for the silver chain and she pulled it out. The ring dangled at the bottom, reflecting the warm orange glow from the lamp. She watched it revolve, first in one direction, then in the other. Then it came to a gradual stop, quivering in mid-air.
Should I? Or should I not? Her thoughts spun about dizzily.
Should you what, Juliet Ford, a voice began to speak fiercely.
This marriage is a mess... And so what if it is. There's nothing you can do about it. Yes I can... It's that Jack fellow, isn't it
She rolled her eyes. Don't be stupid! It's not about him. Whether he came into the picture or not, James and I were already going downhill. I knew he was bad news Overreacting, aren't we,
You're gonna be sorry, the first voice warned. I'm serious about this Juliet. Well, so am I, Ah, leave her girls Should we then just allow her to mess up her life, one argued. I don't think so! Making decisions involve all of us! I beg your pardon! No offense Julie, but we know how you're used to living and the way you like things done. James provides everything for you. You have no need to work. You've got enough to live more than just comfortably for the whole of your life and he allows you to do everything you want! Really. Well, almost everything. There's more to life than just materialistic needs.
She's right. There was a collective sigh from the rest. There's really no point in arguing with her ladies. Let's just leave her alone and let her get some rest. She'll think better tomorrow. Perhaps she'll listen to us then.
I'll bet, one muttered, but with mumbles and grumbles, they slowly quieted down. Then all was silent...except for the little noises that pierced through the night. The clock was ticking, too loud it seemed. It went on and on and on as her eyes drifted shut.
Tick... tick...tick...tick.
Chapter 6
It was a wavy mess of brown hair, not the silky, strands of sunshine that filled his dreams. It wasn't that he wanted it that way. It was just that there was no way that he could help it. At least he could control his thoughts during daytime, but once he drifted off to sleep, there in his dreams, the longings awakened. Memories which he had tried to suppress always haunted him when the darkness descended. The touch of her hands, the soft feel of her lips pressing a loving kiss on his forehead, the pretty green eyes.
He gave a short, silent laugh. Already married with a woman in his bed, yet with another in mind. He never would have thought that he was the unfaithful sort. He leaned back against the soft plush cushions that were carefully placed against the dark velvety couch. It was ironic that he could afford the things he didn't want, yet could not have the only thing he desired. He knew it had been wrong...the affair. That was why he ended it. Besides, it would not have been good for his reputation if they had been discovered. Somewhat selfish, he knew, but hey, one had to look out for oneself, right?
He shut his eyes, recalling the tears, the desperate pleading and the inevitable heartbreak. He had left her broken and weeping, crumpled on the floor, and with a promise that he would be back for her one day.
One day.
It was an empty promise. He knew that even as the words formed on his lips and she knew it too. He could see it in her eyes, so pained, so hurt that he could barely stand looking at her. He shook his head to clear his last image of her and stretched his arms, placing his hands behind his head, interlocking the fingers.
Another reason was because the guilt was eating at him inside, slowly but surely. To wake up every morning to see his wife's loving smile, trusting blue eyes, and knowing he was cheating on her didn't make things easy for him. He would not say he didn't care about their marriage anymore. Yet, he also didn't dare say that he still loved her. He felt something alright, but what it was, he wasn't sure.
Didn't you vow to love her always, a voice accused.
Well, so did the rest of the married men who had and are having affairs right now!
Don't make excuses. Stop thinking about the other woman and start caring for your wife! Just listen to how you talked to her on the phone.
Hey now, a sharp voice cut in. He was tired. That's why he was short with her. Besides, she sounded rather cool herself!
Alright, break it up! He scowled. That's enough.
There you go again, the first voice complained. Whenever we try to sort things out, you stop us before we come up with a solution.
This isn't coming up with solutions! This is just making things worse. Wanna bet?
He bent forward, giving a tired sigh, and rested his face in his hands. This thinking was creating a hell of a headache. He rubbed his temples. He better get to bed soon. It would be a long day tomorrow. Hopefully he would not dream of her tonight.
This woman who went by the name of Kate Austen.
***
She was surprised when she saw him outside the smoky entrance of the bar, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, head down, his back against the white wall. She took a quick glance at her watch. It was only 8. The night had barely begun. He should be onstage by now, preparing to play his songs.
So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she nearly knocked down a small child heading her way. "Oops." She reached out to steady the young boy. He looked up at her with wide eyes as blue as hers and long, dirty curls of gold. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
He shook his head hard and smiled so sweetly that for a moment, she wondered whose child it was. Then in a blink of an eye, he had wriggled out of her grasp and was gone, disappearing around the corner. She frowned for a second before straightening up, and covered the rest of the distance between her and Jack. "Hey you."
He looked up at the sound of her voice. "Hey yourself." He smiled, pushing himself away from the wall. "You're early today."
She arched a brow. "You know, I can always leave and come back later." She laughed. "Aren't you supposed to be inside at this time?"
"I took a day off."
"Don't tell me you were planning to wait for me the whole night just to tell me that."
He shrugged.
"What if I didn't appear," she said teasingly. "You would be standing here for hours."
Another shrug. "I've nothing to do anyway."
She realized that they were still standing in the corridor, looking like fools to most of the passers-by who were giving them odd looks. "So," she cleared her throat as she turned her back on them, tucking her hair behind one ear. "Since you're not working tonight, do you want to head somewhere else?"
"Actually," he looked at her. "I've got a place to take you tonight…that is, if you don't mind," he added hurriedly. "It's not too far from here."
"Is that why you took a day off? To bring me out?"
He didn't answer, but the faint reddening of his face told her enough. Hiding an amused smile, she asked, "So where's this place?"
A small, mysterious grin curved his lips. "That's a secret…but you'll know soon."
It sent a little thrill up her spine. She wasn't sure why, but it did. Common sense told her it was unwise. She could be heading for danger without even knowing it. It wasn't logical, but she hadn't been doing logical things nowadays.
He held out his hand to her, waiting. All of a sudden, all she could hear was her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
Don't Juliet. You barely know this man. That's what makes it exciting,
Hello! Earth calling Juliet! Do you even know what you're saying? Absolutely.
He smiled.
Let's go.
***
She saw them running across the street. It was dark but she could see that they were holding hands. A car, narrowly missing them, honked furiously as it sped down the road. She couldn't recognize them at first, but once they got closer, she realized that the man who was pulling the woman along was someone she knew.
Jack Shephard.
She peered harder through the large window pane of the diner. It was him alright. But the woman was someone she didn't recognize. She was beautiful, with hair the color of sunrays, decked in clothes that she was sure her salary would never be able to pay for. She knew it was none of her business but she could not help thinking.
What was Jack doing was a woman like her?
Or more accurately, what was a woman like her doing with a man like Jack?
***
"This," he said as they finally came to a stop. "Is our transportation." He looked on, grinning as she took in his newest vehicle, mouth agape. "Pretty, isn't it?"
"A motorbike, Jack?"
He nodded proudly. It was second-hand, but it looked like new. Because it was a little more than what he had bargained for, he had to borrow some money from the bar's manager, but it was no big deal. Of course, it meant that his pay would be lesser for a few months until he cleared his debt. "You like it?"
"It's gorgeous," she breathed, stroking her hand over the sleek surface of the black motorcycle. Then, she hesitated, biting her lip. "Jack, where did you get this?"
"Uh, the bike shop?" He replied humorously.
"No, I mean, how?" She spun around to face him, questions in her eyes.
How? He pressed his lips together, his face hardening. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you were thinking."
"No, wait." She caught his arm before he could leave. "I didn't mean that, Jack. I swear, I wasn't even thinking of that." Her tone was sincere enough. He paused. She tightened her grip on his arm just a little. "You believe me, don't you?" She said softly.
He stared at the ground for the longest time. What was going through his mind, she wondered as she gazed at him, silently begging him to trust her. Then, without answering her, he reached for a helmet at the back and held it out to her. She took it uncertainly.
You don't know how to wear it, do you? The voice remarked snobbishly. Told ya you belong to the category of mansions and limos, not apartments and motorbikes.
Don't be stupid. I'll make sure you eat your words.
She slid the helmet over her head, hoping that she was doing it right. She sensed him watching her from his seat on the bike, which made her all the more determined to show them that she was capable of doing a simple thing such as wearing a dumb helmet. The next thing to accomplish then was to get onto the motorcycle. She was grateful that she had chosen to wear jeans today instead of a dress. She stood beside him, trying to figure out the best way to get onto the seat without falling off.
As if he knew she was having some trouble, he said, "Just step here and swing one leg over. Don't worry. You won't fall."
And so she did as he instructed.
"Put your hands on my shoulders."
She obeyed. Still, something bugged her. Before he started the motorbike, she called out, "Jack?"
He turned his head, indicating that he was listening. She wished she could see his eyes, but there was only the moonlight glinting on the shield. She had to settle this.
"You believe me…don't you?"
Why she was so desperate for him to believe that she really didn't think that way, she wasn't sure. She just wanted him to know that she didn't. Anxiously, she waited for his answer. Not being able to see his expression was a torture.
"Jack?"
"I believe you."
It was soft. If it had been any softer, she would've missed it. But nevertheless, it made her heart dance and sent a wide smile across her face.
"Ready?" He started the engine.
She squeezed his shoulders. "Go…slow, will you?"
She heard him laugh and then, they were off.
***
27/10/1993 Where should I begin? Tonight was utterly unforgettable. I will never forget this night for as long as I live. I went out with him and for the first time ever, I got to ride a motorbike! What a most wonderful feeling to have the wind blowing at you while you speed down the road under the starry sky. And I've never seen so many stars out before! Such precious, twinkling little jewels lighting up the sky. He brought me to some kind of beach where there was a café nearby. We sat there and had coffee and talked for hours until it was near midnight. Then he brought me back. He wanted to take me home, but I didn't let him. I didn't dare tell him. Perhaps I will...soon.
Chapter 7
It took him less than a minute to decide then the spot on the roof was officially his favorite place. A happy sigh escaped from him. Could life be any better? He had not touched a drop of alcohol for more than a week already. More importantly, the nightmares didn't come anymore. He closed his eyes, feeling the cool night wind blowing against his face, ruffling his hair.
It was all because of her. His lips curved into a smile. He had given her a gift that she could never buy, nor one that she could forget. She hadn't needed to tell him, but he knew. The way she laughed freely as they were coursing through the highway, when they strolling down the beach, making numerous footprints in the sand, an occasional cold wave splashing over their feet.
Multi-colored lights dotted the scenery in the distance, a stark contrast with the dim flickering lamps lining the dirty streets in his area. He had left his bike in the bar for safekeeping. He didn't think it was wise to leave it around in the neighborhood. He wasn't about to risk it.
Looks like everything turned out well after all, he said with satisfaction.
Don't count your chickens before they've hatched, the voice intruded his thoughts nastily. Anything may happen. I know she likes me. So? So,
Are you that desperate, Shephard? Of course she likes you. You bring her out for fun. You're a handsome, mysterious stranger but face it, how much does she really know about you?
He felt his happiness dissipating into thin air.
Once she really knows what you did. How you killed her… I didn't kill her! Well, you never know. You just like to see me down in the dumps, don't you? You want me to be a lousy drunkard with not a shred of hope, a miserable wretch without a future. Now why would I want that? I am, after all, part of you, I know that she's perfect for me.
It sniggered.
He grew defensive. She can play the piano, she can paint, she's rich but doesn't put on airs like those snobs and we…we share similar traits. We can talk about anything. Not enough, Shephard. That's barely 10 percent of her life. You're not convincing me. I don't need to convince you. You're nothing to me. Guess again. There's so much that you still don't know. She looks like an angel, but you never really know, do you?
At that, he refrained from furthering the conversation. He didn't know why. Perhaps he found no point in arguing, or perhaps it was right and he had no words to refute it. Whatever it was, he didn't want to know. He turned his back on the city, his hands gripping the rough wall on the two sides, supporting him.
Come to think of it, there were times when she had acted strangely, especially when he asked questions about her family. Whenever he probed deeper into her life, she would always grow distant and he would feel as though she had closed up whatever doors he had just opened.
He bent his head and let out a small puff of air.
There's some truth to it. What do I really know about Juliet? I don't even know her last name.
He sucked in a deep breath and nearly coughed in shock. The air was freezing. He rubbed his numbed hands together. Deciding to head back to his room where it would be warmer, he pushed the door open, wincing as the rusty hinges produced a sharp squeak, then, hurried into the dark hallway to escape the blowing wind. Taking the stairs two by two till he reached his level, he walked on, passing the other apartments.
This is stupid. Why am I letting something that only exists in my head to ruin my life? What happened tonight is special. This woman is special. I don't care what they say. If I'm ever going to rebuild my life again, it's going to be with her. With Juliet.
He pushed away the niggling thoughts that still clung onto him as he unlocked his door. He could hear faint mewing on the other side. With a start, he realized he had forgotten to feed the cat before he had left. He stepped in with an apologetic glance down in its direction. It placed its front paws on his leg and looked up with accusing eyes.
Sorry cat. It's just that I've got more important things on my mind. He scrapped the rest of the cat food from the can and set it down onto the floor. It mewed once before burying its black head in the bowl, as if to say, what could be more important than me, me and me?
He chuckled silently. A cat's life sure was easy. He tossed the empty can into the rubbish bin where the rest of the trash lay. He reminded himself to clear it the next morning. He stood near the entrance with his hands on his hips, wondering if his bath could wait a few more hours. He was getting sleepy and the bed did look inviting. Besides, it was cold, and even thinking of standing under the stream of chilling water in the shower sent shivers through him.
The cat, apparently having finished its meal, jumped onto the bed, turned a few circles, then curled up and went to sleep. He stared at it. Now why couldn't he have been a cat? Making choices would be so much easier.
As if it heard him, his pet opened one blue eye, gave him a look, then, shut it.
Well, you're quite the grateful animal, aren't you?
He shook his head. His bath could wait.
He was going to sleep.
***
"Morning, Louise!" She greeted the house servant with a huge smile as she came down the stairs onto the first floor. "How are you today?"
The young girl, too surprised to answer, just returned her smile. However, there was no mistaking the puzzled look in her eyes as she scurried off. Juliet wanted to laugh at the bewilderment on her face. She guessed none of them had seen her smile so wide for ages already. She made her way to where breakfast was laid out for her.
It was a huge dining room painted in colors of cream and light yellow. Little designs were carved where the ceiling met the walls. An elegant chandelier hung in the center, its crystals reflecting off in thousand different directions. A white-clothed table, nearly 3 metres long, was set in the middle of the room. 12 tall-backed leather chairs surrounded it. It was perfectly fine when they had company but it always felt strange every time she had to eat alone. There was just so much...space. The very first time she had arrived, she actually felt awed by its beauty and grandness. Now, even if it was just a small wooden table with two chairs in a cottage, she would be happy, just as long as there was someone to eat with her.
She pulled out a chair and sat down. White plates consisting of eggs fried sunny side up, crispy strips of bacon, muffins, toast with either jam or butter decorated the table. At the side was a tray of neatly cut fruit. There were even bowls of different cereals to choose from with a jug of milk already sweating in the room temperature.
Her stomach growled. Now, she tapped her chin. What should I eat?
Normally, she would settle for a slice or two of toast with a cup of coffee. But she felt hungry for more than just that. She reached for her utensils. It was time for a good breakfast.
***
The bell tinkled, catching her attention, and she looked up just as he entered the doorway.
"Jack!"
"Now that's a greeting I wouldn't mind getting everyday," he joked, taking a seat at his usual table.
A small frown appeared on her face. He sure was turning quick from sour to sweet. Throwing a glance over her shoulder at her boss, who was busy counting money at the cashier, she slid in opposite him. "Okay, I don't have much time, but I really need to talk to you."
"I'm all yours."
"Why...why are you...like this?"
He shot her a confused look.
She sighed impatiently. "Like...so happy, so...free!"
"Oh," he blinked. "That."
"Yes, that! You were never like this." She scrutinized him closely. "What happened?"
"Well...I—"
"Austen!"
She turned back irritably. "COMING!"
"Not afraid you'll get fired?" He grinned.
"Oh hush and tell me!"
"Now that's an impossible—"
"JACK!"
"Okay, okay," he placed his hands on the red and white checkered table, leaning forward. "I'll tell you...on your break."
She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"I'm serious. I'll wait. Besides, it's less than an hour till your lunch break, right? I promise to tell you everything then. Now go before your boss chases me out. He's glaring at us."
"Well, let him glare," she muttered, but nonetheless, returned to her duties.
Whatever the case was, she would make sure he explained every single thing to her before he left today.
***
He watched her, laughing to himself. Trust her to forget to take his order. He went to the counter, placing his order before returning back to his seat.
He had time to spare. He wanted...no, needed time to pass faster. He fingered the pink petals of the fake flower in a small vase on the table. He should have been more persistent in asking where she stayed. But even as he thought about it, he knew it wouldn't have made a difference. She wouldn't have told him if she hadn't wanted to.
"Your breakfast, sir."
He poured the sticky maple syrup over his stack of brown pancakes until it was flowing down the sides.
"You're gonna get so sick," he heard her mumble as she passed him, carrying the dirty dishes.
He merely grinned and cut into his soaked with syrup breakfast, which was probably more of a lunch instead, considering the time. He stuffed a huge bite into his mouth.
Yum.
Just minutes after he had scarfed down the pancakes, French toast and two cups of coffee, she came to join him. "You know, after all that sugar," she commented, raising an eyebrow. "I won't be surprised if you get a stomachache...or become super hyper."
He shrugged. "Been doing it years ago. Hasn't caused me any problem."
"Just you wait, Jack Shephard."
"Come now. We weren't talking about this before, were we?"
"Fine with me. So who was the woman you were with last night?"
He nearly choked on his spit. Coughing, he pressed a napkin to his lips, not meeting her eyes. "W-woman?"
"Don't fake it, Shephard. I saw her. You two were holding hands, just across the road. I'm not blind."
"Maybe you saw wrongly."
"The hell I did. Now spill." She scowled. "She's the one behind this happy-go-lucky change in you, isn't she?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe."
"Jack!"
"Alright! What do you want to know?"
"Everything! Starting from when you met her, how you met her...and why her!"
"You sound like my mom."
"Come now! I don't have much time. When did you first meet her?"
He frowned and scratched his brow. "I think it was a few days ago at the bar. It was only later that night when we sorta...bumped into one another because of my cat."
"Cat?"
"Yeah, I took it home from the dumps. Somehow it got out from my apartment and she found it. Then again, I think I've met her earlier than that. She was wandering on the streets late at night and this loser guy was bothering her. I became a good Samaritan and chased him off for her."
"Did she thank you? Swoon over you?"
"I wish," he laughed. "I disappeared before she could see me."
"So that was the first time."
"Uh, well, I think there was this time I saw her on the balcony..."
"You spied on her?"
"No, of course not! I mean I was on the balcony. She was about to enter a limo or something."
"That brings me to ask," she hesitated.
"What?"
"Well...I don't know, but from what I'd seen yesterday...and from what my guts tell me, she's rich, isn't she? And pretty too...a very eligible woman."
He cocked his head. "What are you driving at?"
"I'm saying, you've only known her for a few days. You don't know anything about her. It's rather...dangerous to build a relationship on such a rocky foundation."
You too?
He groaned. "Listen—"
"You don't have to say anything. I'm only offering you advice, what I feel and think. I'm your friend. I just don't want to see you get hurt. Relationships are already difficult things to handle and with one like yours..."
He turned solemn. "I won't, Kate."
"But—"
"I'll introduce her to you. You'll see what I mean. She's not...she's not capable of that."
She drew in a deep breath. He broke into a smile. "Trust me. You'll understand when you meet her."
She offered a faint smile in return.
Trust me.
***
Now, who gave you the right to talk about relationships when you've failed all of yours? It certainly is hilarious.
He had left just minutes ago and she was left alone with her thoughts. Her only customer, a middle-aged man in torn jeans and a dirty shirt - most probably an alcoholic, she thought - had just been served and it looked as though he would not be bothering her until he was done.
Hm?
She refused to answer, determined to ignore that annoying little voice grating on her nerves. So far, she had not been successful, but there was always a first time, wasn't there?
First it was your dad...then your mom left. Not to mention, you've also lost HIM.
Unexpected tears came to her eyes. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. She hated how it could always get the best of her, how it always seemed to be right.
What gives you the right to advise him on love? If he knew...all of your failed relationships...he would not be listening to you. You know that as well as I. You couldn't be a good daughter, or a good partner. What makes you think you'll be a good mother?
She willed away the tears that threatened to flow. She wasn't going to cry. She couldn't cry, not here, not now. She would get her life right, and she would show them. She would be the greatest mother for her son and he was going to make her proud.
With or without his father.
Chapter 8
He jingled his keys as he clomped up the steps, humming a melody under his breath. A smile seemed to be permanently stuck on his face, making him look rather silly he supposed, but he didn't care. As he turned the corner to his apartment, he nearly knocked over a child standing at the side.
Odd. He had never seen any kids on this level before.
The boy, about 2 or 3 years old, hugged a ragged teddy bear to his chest, staring at him with huge brown eyes.
"Hi there," he kneeled down. "What's your name?"
The boy's mouth opened, worked hard to answer.
Jack softened his voice. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."
Slowly, painfully, he stammered out, "N…Ni..co…l-las."
"Hi Nicolas," he smiled. "I'm Jack. Where's your mommy?"
Before the boy could even utter another word, a shrill voice screamed, "Nicolas!"
The child blinked, popped his thumb into his mouth, and scurried down the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him. Jack stood up, shook his head and went on his way.
***
She spent the rest of the day tinkling tunes on the piano, tried writing in her journal but she felt too edgy for that. So she settled for a thick book that she found in her husband's library, something about the history of America. Every now and then, she would glance at the outdoors, wishing that time would pass faster so she could leave the house.
At about two in the afternoon, she headed to the kitchen. She seldom visited that part of the house but she had a question to ask the girl. "Louise?" She called out.
The house servant wasn't around but the Ned, the cook, appeared. He dried his hands on his apron and smiled. "You be wanting lunch, ma'am? It's on the table."
"Oh no, I was looking for Louise. Do you know where she is?"
"She's feeling sick, resting in her bedroom."
"Oh." A troubled frown crossed her forehead for the slightest instant. "Will she be alright? Shall I call for a doctor?"
"No, ma'am. She'll be fine after resting."
"Okay. Um, I'll be out again tonight, so don't bother cooking for me, alright?"
He bowed slightly.
She turned to leave. "Oh, by the way, did...did James call?"
"I don't know, ma'am. Perhaps Louise knows."
"Right...thanks Ned."
When evening approached, she changed into a white long-sleeved T-shirt and denim jeans, then, swept her hair up in a loose ponytail. Standing before the bedroom mirror, she tilted her head, surveying her reflection.
"No makeup today," she said to herself. She grabbed her handbag and was about to leave when the phone rang harshly. She let out an irritated groan and ran back. "Hello?"
"Hey Jules."
She swallowed her surprise. "James."
"You don't sound happy to hear me."
"No...no," she stuttered. "I'm just...busy. I wasn't expecting your call."
"You haven't been home a lot. I called a couple of times. Louise told me you weren't in."
"I've...I've been out." She studied her nails, guilt making her stomach turn.
"So I've heard."
There was an uncomfortable pause. At least, it was for her. He went on as though he hadn't noticed anything unusual.
"I'll be flying home in a couple of hours. We managed to wrap everything up earlier than we had expected."
"That's great," she tried inserting some emotion in her tone. "Shall I pick you up?"
"It's alright. My flight arrives rather early in the morning. You'll be sleeping at that time."
It was the closest thing she'd ever heard him say that resembled concern. Somehow it made her all choked up inside. She pressed the phone to her ear. She could hear him breathing on the other end.
I love you. Say I love you.
She didn't. "Okay...I'll see you soon."
"Bye Jules."
She hung up with a soft click and for a long time, she sat on the couch, staring into the air.
So he was returning the next morning. What should she do?
A whole load of guilt, sadness and anger collided within her, creating a small explosion of confusion. She cradled her head in her hands. The rhythmic ticking of the clock filled the room. Break it off.
I shouldn't have...I...what should I do?
She shook her head. I can't. I won't. I like him. I like Jack. He needs me and...and I actually know more about him within this past one week than I know about James nowadays. For goodness sake, James is my husband! So you want a divorce. No...I just...I just want someone to understand me. So give him a chance. I had. You're doing it wrong Juliet. Break it off before you regret it. I won't.
After that, it was quiet.
She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, taking slow, deliberate breaths. She needed to talk to him.
Tonight.
***
He observed her out of the corner of his eye, seated just across from her. He had sensed something wrong from the moment she entered the bar. It made him feel rather uneasy. Even now, she was fiddling with a ring that hung from a silver chain. He shifted in his seat. " Listen, if you feel more comfortable talking elsewhere, I could—"
"No. No, here's fine. I just," she paused, faltering. "I just...need to find the words." She looked away and ran her fingers through her blond hair. "Jack, I need to tell you something...something important. I should have told you earlier but...I don't know why I didn't."
In the background, the soft blues played on, coupled with the clinking of glasses. He waited, heart pounding as he wondered what kind of bad news she had been hiding from him.
See, I told you she wasn't all that— Shut up
"I've been sort of...not telling you the truth and there's really no way else to go about this." She stopped, reached from her glass and took a sip. "Okay, um, what I'm trying to say is..." She met his eyes almost apologetically. "Jack...I'm married."
Chapter 9
She's married. What does she mean she's married? Don't be stupid, Shephard. It means she's got a husband. She's taken buddy! She's been leading you on! I told you a lady like this was too good to be true.
His mind scrambled for something to say.
Nothing. Zilch.
He exhaled his breath nosily. She ran a hand through her hair again, a habit he noticed she would always do when she was nervous or uncomfortable. Realizing she was waiting for his response, he cleared his throat. This time, it was he who reached for his drink, not that it was hard liquor or anything. Then he was looking everywhere, anywhere but at her. "You...you wanna go for a ride?"
She followed him without a word.
On the road, with the wind whipping past them, the feel of control under him, he tried sorting out his entangled thoughts, tried coming to terms with the fact that she was married.
How could she not have mentioned such an essential piece of information?
Bad boy, bad boy, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when he comes for you?
Feeling hot anger rise up within him, anger at himself and at her, he gripped the handles tighter. Trees started whizzing past them in a blur as he went faster and faster. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, hands that he longed to hold and had not yet done so. Would he ever now, he thought. Did she know, did she really know how much hung on that single thread? His life, his future, his entire existence. If she were to break their relationship off just like that, he didn't know what he would do.
But she didn't. She never said she was going to break it off. Isn't it obvious All bow down to the king of assumption It amuses me how just a few days ago you were against us being together and now you're persuading me to hang on to it. People change Jack. You're not a person. I am. Now shut up a moment and let me think. Suit yourself, buddy.
How long he drove, he wasn't sure. It was only when he felt certain that he had calmed down enough, sorted out his thoughts, then, he slowed to a stop near a stand of trees. He guessed there was a cliff overlooking the sea somewhere. He could hear the crash of the waves shattering against the rugged rocks. That was how his heart was going to be by the end of the night.
Shattered.
She walked with him a little way through the trees, him pushing the bike, until they were hidden from the public view of those who were passing by on the road.
Here goes.
"Juliet, I—"
"I'm sorry—" she began at the same time.
They stopped, looking at each other, then, broke into quiet chuckles.
"You first."
"No...you go ahead."
He let out his breath slowly. "First of all, I know you're sorry. I know you have your reasons. It doesn't matter anymore. All I'm interested in, Juliet, is what you plan to do now."
"Jack—"
"You must understand. I'm a man of many secrets. But that doesn't scare you. And I haven't known you for more than a week and yet you've been occupying my mind both day and night. I know it probably sounds creepy to you, but listen, it's just," he searched for a way to put his feelings into words. "I don't know. I really..." He lifted his head, feeling like a fool. She was looking at him with a mixture of emotions that he could not quite define. He swallowed hard. It was time for him to say how he truly felt in the only way that he knew how.
Time to say I love you.
***
I love you.
She was stunned by his confession.
"You don't have to say anything," he was telling her, his voice strained. "I just wanted you to know how I feel...about you." Even in the darkness, she could see him blushing uncomfortably. In fact, she didn't even need to see him to know, she could sense it.
What do I say? I love you too? No, wait! Wait...aren't I married? Oh great, just perfect. What do I do now? I'm so confused.
"Juliet?" He was looking at her with such a hopeful expression that she was so scared she would say the wrong thing and end up driving him away. Yet she was also afraid of giving him false hope. She didn't want to bungle up by letting words she wasn't sure of come out of her mouth.
You're stepping on thin ice here Jules.
"Jack," she began carefully. "I like you a lot. Nobody's made me feel like you have. Firstly, I'm so so sorry for having put you through this," she waved off his protests. "I want to explain. I need to explain. I owe you that much." She took a deep breath. "In my entire life, I've never, ever met anyone like you. I was miserable because Ja...my husband didn't let me to do the things I—"
"Why didn't you get a divorce?" His dark eyes pierced into hers.
"Because," she trailed off in a whisper. "Because sometimes...sometimes, I still feel that he cares."
"I see."
She had nothing else to say after that, no words that would offer the slightest bit of comfort. His face was void of any emotion, which pained her terribly.
All because of you Juliet. Shut up! I warned you. Now you face the consequences.
"So," he interrupted the tense silence with a fake smile. "Want to go for one last ride?"
"Jack."
"I'll show you my apartment. And you can see my cat again," he went on a little too brightly. "My place isn't very...it's not your kind of place, if you know what I mean. If you were alone, I wouldn't suggest hanging around there. I mentioned that before, haven't I?"
He was babbling on and on, but it was better than enduring the excruciating silence. She dropped her gaze to the ground in shame, not wanting to meet his eyes, not wanting to see the immerse hurt that she had helped place there.
Oh Juliet, what have you gotten yourself into?
Minutes later, they were back on the road. She sat behind him, knowing he was feeling no better than she was. In fact, she was sure that he felt worse than she.
I'm sorry Jack. I didn't mean for it to turn out this way.
She hesitated for a while, then let go of his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt him turn slightly in surprise. Then, she rested her head on his back, knowing her actions said more than words ever could.
***
"It's a bit of a mess," he said wryly as he threw his keys onto the bedside table. "You're probably not used to it given the fact that..." He saw her flinch and closed his eyes for a moment. "Sorry, I...I'm sorry. I didn't—"
"It's fine." Her eyes roamed throughout the room and he wondered what was going through her mind. He didn't have to wait long. She cocked her head, a little furrow between her eyebrows. "Where's your cat?"
He nearly laughed in relief. "Oh he'll turn up somewhere. He always does the disappearing act."
And as though it could hear him, the black cat sauntered out of the bathroom, waving its tail proudly. It took one look at Jack, then, headed straight for Juliet's legs, much to her surprised pleasure.
"Aw, it's so cute." She picked it up, almost as awkwardly as she did the other time, and cuddled it. "It's bigger now."
"Yeah, they grow fast." He said, smiling a little, watching as she rubbed the kitten's head. It tried to lick her cheek and she giggled. "You can sit." He gestured toward the bed.
"It's nice of you to take it in."
He shrugged.
"What's his name?"
"Uh, I just call him Cat."
"You're serious?" An amused grin crossed her face, and he could not help but grin back. "If you don't mind, I'd like to call him," she looked into the cat's blue eyes. "Smokie. Is that alright with you?"
"Sure. It fits." He watched them for about a minute or so, then, asked, "You want a drink? There's—"
"Actually, I'd like to talk."
Oh.
On the balcony, under the dark sky, he caught her look of recognition when she spotted the hotel where he had first seen her.
"That place..."
"You've been there?" He asked casually, hoping she would tell him more on her own initiative. He wasn't disappointed.
"Yeah," she said.
He noticed her fingering the ring again, twirling it first one way, then the other. All of a sudden, he had an urge to snatch it from her and fling it away as far as he could.
"I had a fight with James there one day...over a minor issue. No," she corrected herself. "Actually, it was a huge issue...for me. I won't go into details—"
"I have time."
She glanced at him, then, looked away. "I...I had been late for a dinner appointment with some of his friends. He refused to believe that it wasn't my fault. He'd rather believe that it was I who made the chauffeur wait. Later on, I got mad at something he said...stomped off right in the middle of dinner." She drew in a shaky breath. "I never would have thought that my husband would rather believe someone who's almost a total stranger than...than his own wife."
A first-class jerk.
Seeing his less-than-positive expression, she hurriedly added, "Please. Don't get me wrong. James is not all that bad. He can...he can be nice at times."
"A husband is always supposed to be nice to his wife." He couldn't help the disgust in his tone. "I suppose he's the one who stopped you from painting?"
She jerked her head up, shocked.
"I figured it out," he said, answering her unspoken question. "The last time you spoke to me in the bar. Didn't think it would actually be true."
"I know he sounds like...like some kind of monster, but—"
"He is, Juliet!" He lowered his voice, trying to reign in his temper. "Anyone who can even think of hurting you..."
"He's not a perfect person."
"You're not. I don't think you would hurt anyone."
"Jack..."
His eyes darkened. Reaching out a hand, he tilted her chin up to face him. "Will you?" He said, voice hoarse. "Will you hurt me?"
Chapter 10
28/10/1993 He kissed me...and I know I shouldn't have, but I kissed him back. The minute we made contact, I think I lost all my senses. All I was aware of was him. He was touching my face, his hands so warm, and his soft lips were brushing mine ever so lightly. I couldn't remember my home, my life...I couldn't even remember my husband! He said he loved me. I know I shouldn't believe him, but I do...and I have no idea why. Just by the way he looks at me with those smoldering eyes, the way he talks to me, the way he got mad when I told him about James and how he treats me...the way he kissed me. It's ridiculous, if you actually think about it. I've only known him for a week now, if you don't count the incident that happened about a month ago. Can you really love someone whom you've only got to know a few days ago? He's proof that it's possible. What about me? Where do I stand? How do I really feel? I'm in this too deep and I can't get out. And the frightening thing is...I don't want to.
***
The wind was blowing into his room, but he couldn't feel the cold as he lay on his bed, one hand behind his head, the other touching his lips which were curving in a smile.
Will you hurt me, he had asked. She had tried not to answer, tried to look away, but he held her head steady, looking into eyes as blue as the ocean. "Will you?" He had refused to back off, knowing he was making her uncomfortable. She stopped trying to escape and stared into his eyes. When she did just that, he felt himself leaning forward, closing the distance between them. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest as he tenderly pressed his lips against hers for the slightest moment. She didn't resist and as he pulled away, his eyes fixed on hers, he had no shadow of a doubt that the woman in his arms was one he loved. "I may not be able to come see you so often anymore," she had said. He hadn't bothered to ask why. As long as he knew he had her heart, that was all that mattered. He tugged her into his embrace and held her close until he felt she would melt into him.
***
A loud cry woke her up from her restless sleep. Groaning, she stumbled out of bed to the small cot where her son was wailing in misery. He must have had a nightmare, she thought, her mind still foggy with sleep. "It's okay Jacen," she murmured tiredly as she rocked him in her arms. "Mommy's here. Mommy's going to take care of you. Don't cry sweetheart. Mommy loves you."
Just like that, in less than a minute, his howling eventually diminished to sobs and then, to occasional whimpers.
"That's my boy," she snuggled him, still using her coaxing voice. "Hush now. Mommy's here with you. No one's gonna take you away from Mommy."
He hiccupped, eyes wet with tears. She smiled at him and wiped his face, running her fingers through his blond hair. "There you go." Petting him gently, she continued her rocking, singing to him softly until he fell back into slumber. When she was certain he was fast asleep, she planted a loving kiss on his head and then, settled him on the cot.
Let's hope Ms Landlady didn't hear all that screaming, she sighed as she shuffled back to bed. But once she was under the covers, staring up at the ceiling, she realized she couldn't sleep anymore. She squinted in the darkness at the small red clock on her bedside table.
5am.
It was only another hour till she had to get ready to leave. Since she saw no point in trying to nap for that short period, she got up, quietly so she would not wake the baby, and headed to the bathroom, making a list of things in her mind that she had to accomplish today.
Make bottles of milk for Jacen, remind landlady to heat them up before feeding him, catch the bus to the grocery store after work, pick up milk powder, a tin of biscuits and...yes, fruit. Did I forget anything else? Oh yes, pay the rent. How can I forget that?
It was going to be a long day.
***
"Thanks for coming to get me, Jeff. Sorry I didn't call you ahead of time. I never thought that my chauffeur would fall sick at the last minute."
"Hey, what're friends for, eh?" The tall, strapping man grinned as he threw the last of the suitcases into his trunk. "How was your trip there?"
He shrugged. "Same old business cycle. They provide a beautiful room for you, excellent food and all that jazz, and you're expected to seal the deal just because of that."
"Life losing its excitement for you, buddy?" Jeff commented as they got into his sleek, red convertible. "It sure sounds like that to me."
"No," he hesitated. "Well, I don't know. It's just that nowadays I've been having some problems." He buckled his seatbelt. "Especially with my wife. Sometimes, I just don't get her. She gets mad over the littlest things."
He nodded in affirmation. "Women."
"She's been acting really unhappy before I left for this trip. I don't know why. We've had some arguments over some minor issues but that's about all. I thought that she would be satisfied because heck, I provide everything for her." He stared out the window as they turned out of the airport.
"Love, baby, love," the dark-haired man grinned cheekily. "Have you guys...you know...in a while?"
He rolled his eyes. "C'mon Jeff. Seriously? I've hardly enough time for myself and you're talking about enjoyment?"
"Maybe that's your problem."
"Besides, she wouldn't want me to touch her."
"How would you know? She is human after all, isn't she? She has needs."
He scoffed. "Juliet would put her wants before her needs if she thinks they're more important to her."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not. And—"
She's special that way.
"And?" Jeff prodded.
That's why you fell for her, isn't that right?
He swallowed and shook his head. "Nothing."
Time for a talk when you get back, James Ford. You've ignored her long enough. I didn't ignore her Which includes not putting your wife as your top priority?
At that, he felt a stab of guilt. It was true that he hadn't given his wife the attention she deserved.
And what about that affair? Don't you dare bring that up No it's not. You haven't stopped thinking about her. And until you do, it'll never be over. Until you do, your wife, though she doesn't know, will never be happy with you. Can't you see that I'm trying It's not enough! TALK to her. You cannot know what's on a woman's mind until you talk to her. Don't simply assume. If you want a good relationship, you need communication. I find that sorely lacking. Forget every other woman, there's only one for you. That's Juliet Ford. Juliet Ford. Juliet Ford. JULIET FORD.
***
She knew it was him when she heard a car pulling to a stop at the driveway. A door slammed and then, there was a screech of tires. She heard footsteps approaching. A key rattled in the lock. She looked up from her book with a small smile just as he walked in. "You're back."
"I thought you would be sleeping," was his greeting.
"I couldn't sleep."
He shrugged off his coat, draping it over the couch's arm.
She watched him, hugging her knees to her chest. "How was your trip?"
"As expected," he replied as he loosened his tie. "We ran into some roadblocks along the way, but got them all sorted out in the end."
"Oh." She didn't know what else to say. Every time James returned from his business trips, this would be as far as their conversations would go. She picked up her book again, tucking a couple of blond runaway strands behind her ear.
"Juliet."
She looked up in surprise.
He stood with his hands deep in his pockets, seemingly not quite himself. Clearing his throat, he began awkwardly, "I...I think we have to talk." He crossed the room in a few steps and took a seat next to her. "I know we've been having some problems in our marriage...I'd like us to fix it."
She blinked. For no rhyme or reason, why was her husband...
"I'd like to make things right. I'd like to start over."
She ran a hand through her hair, trying to comprehend the situation that had caught her unaware, trying to figure out a way to solve it. He was sincere, she could see. But why now? Why was he choosing this time to ask for her forgiveness? And why hadn't he do so weeks ago?
Better late than never. But...but... Isn't this what you've always been waiting for? It was...then there was Jack. Don't be a fool and throw it all away!
He leaned towards her, eyes searching hers, and grasped her hands. "I'm serious about this, Juliet. Can we start over?"
She was speechless. Unbelievable. A month ago, she would have fallen into his arms, weeping for joy...but now?
"Julie?" He rubbed his thumbs over her hands. Finding something amiss, he glanced down. "Where's your ring?"
"It's...it's here." She pulled out the chain from beneath her shirt, fumbling for just a second. "There." She could feel his relief upon seeing the ring.
"So how about it, Julie? Shall we?"
She could only nod, at a loss for words. As he kissed her forehead, she forced a smile onto her face.
Trouble, here we come.
Minutes later, she lay on the bed, both hands massaging her head to try to soothe the pounding headache that had all of a sudden made an appearance.
"How were your weeks?" He asked, voice muffled through the closed door of the bathroom.
"Uh, great." She rolled over onto her stomach, her face pressed against the sheets until her lungs were begging for oxygen. She turned to the side and sucked in a big breath, feeling light-headed. Surprisingly, it seemed to work. The drilling in her head had lessened by a considerable bit.
She heard the bathroom door slide open and sat up. Her husband came out in boxers and a white T-shirt, toweling his wet hair.
"You don't sound like you had fun."
"It was alright," she lied.
He dropped onto the bed, resting his head on one arm, and grinned up at her. "Really?"
She tried not to inch away from him and felt a dull pain starting up in her stomach. She reached for a fluffy pillow, hoping its softness would give her some comfort.
"You okay?"
She nodded weakly, brushing away his concern. On one hand, it pleased her that he was finally paying attention to her. It was a scene that she had always dreamed of months ago. On the other hand, it seemed so foreign that it made her uncomfortable.
He pushed himself up. "Are you sure? Perhaps we should visit the doctor after breakfast."
"No, James. Really, it's fine."
For the first time in ages, she recognized the long lost look of love in his eyes. Her head began to pound again. As he kissed her, she tried to feel the thrill, tried to get lost in the passion as she kissed him back. But all she was aware of was cold familiarity...and the memory of another man's lips.
Chapter 11
In the afternoon, while James took a nap – to recover from jet lag, he said - she slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind her. She needed time alone to untangle the mess of thoughts in her head. She walked along the hallway till she reached the stairs. There, she took it one step at a time, trailing her hand on the railing.
Jack says he loves me. Jack kissed me. I kissed him. James wants to start over. He wants another chance.
It was all too much for her to take in. She felt like bursting into tears. Lowering herself onto a step, she buried her head in her arms. Oh God, what do I do now? I never thought that James would ever see his mistake. And why now, she whispered fiercely. Why hadn't he done this months ago?
Does it matter? It does matter! Because now...now, I've...I've... Jack.
Just that single word brought a lump came to her throat. Yes. Jack. Tears gathered in her eyes. I told him, I promised I wouldn't break his heart.
If you don't break his, you're going to break someone else's. Why should I break his and spare James's
She dried her eyes with her sleeve, then, got up and hurried down the rest of the steps. She still hadn't found a solution, but she was sure that sooner or later, she would have an idea of what to do next.
***
"Great lunch, Kate," he winked as he passed her on his way out. In return, she merely rolled her green eyes, but he spotted a little smile curving the corners of her lips just before the door closed, shutting her out of his sight. As he headed back to his apartment, he reminded himself that he was supposed to get Juliet to meet her. He was certain that they would bond instantly.
Nearing the building,a scream that seemed to have come from the inside reached his ears. It made the hairs on his neck stand. Side-stepping a puddle of vomit on the pavement, he was hurrying up the stairway when there came another scream, louder this time, as though the person was in pain. His stomach tightened, his heart pounded. He didn't know why, because he wouldn't have cared before.
As he got closer to the sixth level, he could hear a child's terrified cries and a woman's wails. Then, a harsh voice entered the chaos.
"I said, SHUT HIM UP!"
There was the sickening sound of a slap. His heart jerked as the woman screamed again. Lungs bursting, when he finally reached his destination, he banged madly on the door.
It didn't budge. Nobody came to the door. He surveyed it quickly with a critical eye. It would give way if he kicked it hard enough. Bracing himself, he did just so, throwing himself repeatedly against it until he found himself to be in the apartment.
The first thing that met his eyes was a large-sized man, reeking of alcohol. Then next thing he saw was a frightened woman who was sheltering a young child in her arms. In a second, he had sent the drunk reeling to the floor with his fist.
"W-who...da hell...are you," the man slurred, trying to focus on Jack through narrowed eyes. "W-wha...are you...d-doing in...my...my..."
He ignored him, kneeling by the scared female who was pressed against the wall. She had a red handprint on her face, which he had no doubt, was the work of her husband. Held tightly in her arms, was the little boy whom he had met just yesterday. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he clutched his mother in a death grip. With a grim expression, he noticed the numerous bruises on his legs that were non-existent just the day before. Pushing aside his burning anger for the time being, he asked gently, "Are you okay? Do you want me to call the police?"
He was startled by the immediate frantic shaking of her head.
"But he hit you...and your child. It's abuse," he argued. "He deserves to rot in jail."
"No!" It was her first word, said with fear yet with stubbornness. "No, please. Don't. No police."
He frowned. "But if you let him go like that, he will beat you again."
"No, no. It's alright." Her eyes were filling up rapidly. "Don't call the police."
He was torn between the woman's pleading and his wanting to do the right thing. But because she refused to let him call the authorities, he had no choice. He stood up with a reluctant sigh. The drunken man had sobered up enough to pick himself up from the floor and was now sitting on the bed sullenly, staring daggers at him.
"Well, if you've any problems, don't hesitate to call me. I live just above you." He smiled comfortingly at her, then, at the little boy. Before he left, he drilled a stony gaze at the husband, making it clear that the incident had better not happen again, otherwise, he would take action.
A few hours later, he was walking towards the street where the bar was located, still fuming inwardly at what happened. He had been taught early in his childhood that men were not allowed to hit women. It wasn't right. Not once had he ever laid a violent hand on a woman. If it was up to him, he would make sure that the abusive man served his time in jail for hitting his family.
Entering his working place, he noticed that there weren't many people, but then again, it was only six in the evening. Most of the crowd only came in about an hour or two later. He strolled to the black, polished counter where the bartender had just finished serving a customer his martini. Richard, who had been part of the staff long before Jack, was a man of medium height with striking features.
"Working hard, eh?"
"Shephard!" he exclaimed, a twinkle in his eyes. "Nice and early!"
"I got bored."
"Wanna drink? It's on me!"
"Right." A wry grin appeared. They all knew that the staff was entitled to free drinks in the bar. Still, he declined the offer and settled on one of the red stools. Richard poured him water in a wine glass and just for presentation, added a cocktail umbrella made of translucent patterned paper and a toothpick.
"I know the taste doesn't match what you see but," he shrugged. "Can't say I didn't try. Anyway...she coming tonight?"
"I don't know," he took a huge gulp from the glass. "She told me she may not be here so often anymore."
"Chick's hot."
He glared at the bartender. "Excuse me?"
He raised his hands, looking all innocent. "My bad. Sorry." After a while of observing Jack, he commented, "Had a rough day?"
He took a deep breath, then, blew it out. "No. Sorry for blowing up just now."
"Hey, you didn't hurt me or nothin'," he grinned. "Maybe your woman will drop by today and cheer you up, eh?"
He nearly smiled.
Nearly.
-
"Yogurt?"
"No thanks." She smiled politely at the teenage promoter. It was seven in the evening. She had managed to wrangle an hour off her usual shift, promising to make up for it the next day. As soon as she had gotten all the groceries she needed, she would head for home. She was eager to retrieve her son from the landlady's care.
She wandered down the aisles, her brown ponytail bouncing along with her strides. Her blue jacket was wrapped tightly around her body, seemingly not able to keep the cold from penetrating through. Outside, it was raining cats and dogs. Sighing, she took a tin of assorted biscuits off the bottom shelf. "Milk, biscuits, bananas," she mumbled to herself as she went to the cashier to make her payment. As the man, who looked barely in his twenties, began to scan her items, she turned her head.
The sight that met her eyes was not only unexpected, it shocked her. It made her heart race, made her freeze.
Entering the store was a blond man who was all too familiar to her.
As she remembered.
The same rugged look.
The heartbreaking smile that could always make her heart melt.
The one who walked out on her.
It was almost pitch black out. The only sounds were of the revolving ceiling fan and those of a stray cat rummaging in the garbage cans. Against her skin, the old leather was scratchy, but it felt comforting. She sat curled up, arms folded and pressed to her stomach, on the brown tattered sofa that lined the wall. Jacen had already fallen asleep near an hour ago. As for her, she was wide awake with the picture of him imprinted in her mind. She chewed on her lower lip, feeling her heart tug as she recalled seeing him in the store.
She shook her head. It's impossible. I must have seen wrongly. You lie to yourself, Kate. No. Then explain why you rushed out of the store like you were being chased by a pack of wolves.
She frowned, backed into a corner. Yet, it didn't matter how hard she tried to convince herself. She knew without a doubt that the man was none other than James Ford. The very moment she laid her eyes on him, she knew it was him. There was no denying it. It had been a major shock, but little did she know, there was an even greater one that had yet to come.
For trailing behind him, holding onto his hand, was the woman she had seen with Jack Shephard.
-
"It'd better be something earth-shaking," he mumbled. "To call me down at this time in the morning." Bleary-eyed, he dropped onto the seat opposite her. "Coffee, thanks." As the waiter scurried away, he carried on. "Coffee's just what I need to perk me up. I...wait." He blinked hard a couple of times, realizing that she wasn't wearing her uniform. "You're not working today?"
"I took a day off."
"That's something," he remarked, grinning. "I've never seen you on leave ever since I've known you." When she didn't crack a smile, he quickly sobered up. "What's wrong?"
She hunched her shoulders, looking miserable. "Look Jack. I saw something yesterday that I think you should know about. You know the woman you're with?"
"Juliet?"
As she watched his face brighten, she felt her heart sink even lower.
"What about her? She's not hurt or anything, is she?"
"No...no, I just...I," she hesitated. "It's just that I saw her..."
"You saw her?"
There was no turning back now. She bit her lip, then, blurted out, "I saw her with another man." She nearly cringed, waiting for an explosion. Maybe even tears or some sort of outburst, but to her surprise, there was none of that. His expression went from confusion, then to plain sadness. No shock, no anger, at least, none that was apparent to her.
"Aren't you mad?" She ventured cautiously. "I mean, did you hear what I just said, Jack?"
"I did."
He was too quiet and that made her uncomfortable, even a little uneasy. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You don't seem shocked."
He sighed, rubbed his face with a hand, then leaned forward, resting his arms on the tabletop. "Kate, there's something I haven't told you. I didn't know about this either till about two days ago. You see, Juliet," he lowered his voice, looking intently at her. "She's married."
What?
She felt as though all the air in her lungs had been sucked out of her.
Juliet was married?
"She...she's married to...to..."
"James Ford," he finished for her, confirming her worst fears. "At least that's what she told me."
James Ford!
"You've got to kidding me," she managed to get the words out. "There is no way, absolutely no way that Juliet is married to him. I mean, it's impossible. It's just impossible!" She pushed her hair back from her flushed face with both hands in one swift motion. "Please tell me you're lying!"
He didn't and only looked at her in bewilderment.
This cannot be happening! This is just too much of a coincidence! How can Juliet...I thought...I thought James...
Her thoughts were running all amuck.
But it makes sense, doesn't it? You knew all along that James has a wife, and Juliet looks just the part of a rich woman. But...but how can this be happening?
"Kate!"
She was shaken back to the present. As she looked at him, she saw that he had confusion and worry written all over his face.
"Why are you acting all weird? I mean, I didn't know Juliet being married would affect you so much."
"No, it's not that. I mean, it is that," she backtracked. "Listen, you're not going to believe this. I can't believe it myself, but Jack, there's something else I need to tell you. That man...whom you said is married to Juliet...James Ford." She paused, feeling sudden tears come to her eyes. "He...he's the father of Jacen."
Her initial news hadn't shocked him, but this one accomplished its job perfectly. He fell back against the seat heavily, his eyes reflecting the horror that she felt. "Juliet's husband...he's been with you."
She nodded silently.
"You knew he was married."
Another nod.
He felt a migraine coming along. Pressing his hands to his throbbing head, he squeezed his eyes shut. Meanwhile, she continued to sit there in silence, twisting a paper napkin.
"Does she know?"
"About the affair?" She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the table. "I don't know. I don't think she does."
"How could he—"
"Hey, that woman's not all angel either," she shot back, feeling a need to defend the man who had abandoned her. "She's having an affair herself. What gives you the right to—"
"Well, he wasn't treating her like he should have!"
"So that gives her an excuse?" She was getting worked up. The napkin was now shredded to strips but at that moment, she didn't care. "Come one Jack. If that's an excuse, it's a lousy one!"
"I've heard a first-hand description of him from—"
"That's not very fair, is it? To hear only ONE side of a story!"
"I don't have to hear," he said hotly. "I just need to look at the evidence. A man who cheated on his wife and then leaves you and his own kid? Not exactly someone I'd admire Kate!"
She shut up. His words had hit her like a ton of bricks. And she had to admit that there was truth in what he said.
He sighed, covering his face with his hands. "Okay, I'm sorry. Can we...can we stop and act like cool-headed adults for a minute?"
She took slow, deep breaths and her pounding heart began to regain its normal pace.
"So," he began. "You never knew that Juliet was James's wife."
She felt an embarrassing shade of red creeping up to her face. "All I knew was that he was married when we got together." She couldn't look at him and busied herself by fitting the torn paper napkin pieces back together.
"What're you going to do?"
"I don't know. What are you going to do?" She threw his question back at him.
"I don't know."
"Are you going to tell her?"
"About you and James?" He turned his troubled gaze away from her. "I really don't know Kate. It's all such a big mess now that I...I'm afraid one wrong word will set off a whole series of shocking discoveries and regrets."
She stared at the mangled paper strips. "Is it because you're scared?"
"Scared?"
She was sure he knew what she meant. He was just avoiding her question. "Losing her Jack. Are you scared of that?"
Chapter 12
She toyed with the pen, her journal page still blank lying in front of her. There were so many conflicting feelings in her that demanded to be let out. The only way she could do that was to write them out in words. She twisted the pen round and round her fingers, thought for a moment, then pressed the tip to the paper and began scribbling some words.
It's only been days yet I feel as though I haven't seen him in ages. I—
"Juliet!"
She spun around in the chair.
James stood in the doorway, face glowing.
"You're home early."
"I've got something to tell you." He strode over to her, still grinning widely. "You're not going to believe this."
As inconspicuously as she could, she reached for her journal. "Really?" She flipped it to the front just as her husband sat down beside her. His eyes shone with excitement. She could not help but ask curiously, "What's up?"
He grasped her hands in his. "We're going to Italy Julie."
Italy? James never brings me on his business trips.
To say that she was merely surprised would be an understatement. But she looked past it. "Awesome. When are we leaving?"
"Next week."
"For how long?"
"That's the thing Julie," he said. "We're not just going there for a while. We're moving there."
We're what?
Her stomach twisted into knots. "But I...I thought we were going there just for a business trip."
"Well, it's sorta like a business trip." He tried to explain. "I'll be setting up a business there. You know that will take quite a while. I need to make sure everything goes well. Hopefully, by a year or two, we'll be able to return to America."
A year or two?
All of a sudden, she found that she couldn't breathe. Her hands clutched her journal tightly to prevent them from trembling.
What about...what about... Jack? DAMN it Juliet!
"So all's fine with you?" He smiled as he stood up and kissed the top of her head. "I promise you. You'll love it there. It will be amazing. I'll go see if dinner's ready. Love you."
She sat there, unable to move a muscle.
We're moving. Italy. Two years. Jack.
-
The silence lay between them like a dead weight. The light piano music, plus the soft chatter of the other customers, surrounded them like the faint smoke, but neither was aware, oblivious of anyone else but themselves. She took a sip from the glass, one after another, until the liquid had all been drained. She hadn't spoken a word since he had sat there minutes ago. There was no welcoming smile, no hello.
It made him scared.
"I thought you wouldn't be coming."
"I'm sorry," she said in that soft voice of hers. "It's been...complicated."
"I know."
She drew a deep breath. "How've you been?"
They were being so formal with each other, he thought. "I've been good. You?"
"As usual, I guess."
"Your husband...James," he said with difficulty. "He's been treating you alright?"
She looked away. "Yeah."
"Is that why you haven't been here?"
She swallowed hard. "Yeah."
"I see."
"Jack—"
"Don't," he stopped her. Hearing her say his name out loud would make his heart bleed until there was nothing left.
She gazed at him, hurt in her eyes. He bent his head, not wanting to look at her.
Tell her to get lost Jack...since she's already chosen to stay with her husband, a voice said bitterly.
No. Tell her what her husband's done Jack. Tell her! She deserves to know. Tell her Jack! Tell her!
He cradled his head in his hands.
"Jack?" She touched his arm, the simple contact making him flinch. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. It's just...been a long day."
They stared at each other, both knowing that he was lying.
"Why are you here Juliet?" He asked. "Shouldn't you be at home with him?"
"Because...because I want to be with you."
His heart ached. He pulled his gaze away from hers. "You know it's not possible."
"I...I wanted to see you before," her voice caught. "Before I leave."
"Before...you leave."
She met his burning eyes. This time, it was her who couldn't stand looking at him.
"What do you mean...before you leave," he said tightly.
"He...he wants me to leave for Italy," she managed to say. "Together...with him."
"For how long?"
She bit her lip.
"How long Juliet."
"Perhaps two years," she whispered.
What went through his mind next, he didn't quite know. He was only sure that if he didn't get out of there that instant, he would explode in a rage. He grabbed his jacket and stomped off into the dark night.
"Jack!"
She was running after him, pleading with him to stop.
"Jack please!"
But he didn't want to stop. He was furious. Red hot anger was bubbling up within him. His hands were clenched into hard fists, ready to punch someone or something. His strides were long and determined, but she wasn't about to give up.
"Jack!"
He didn't wait for her – nevertheless, she followed him as he made his way home. As he flung the door open to his apartment, his cat came out to greet him but he only ignored it.
"Please Jack, just listen to me!"
"For what?" He spat. "Will that make you stay?"
"Just—"
"Get lost Juliet! Just leave me alone!"
"I can't!"
He spun around, his eyes flashing. "You can't? You say you can't? Then why do you have to leave?" He screamed. "WHY?"
"I—"
He grasped her shoulders roughly and jerked her close until their lips collided. She whimpered but didn't push him away, kissing him back, hungrily. She felt one hand cupping her face, the other buried in her silky golden hair. Then, as sudden as it had happened, he wrenched her away. Collapsing on the bed like a broken man, he bent over and choked out hoarsely, "Why Juliet? Why?"
She didn't answer, couldn't answer. The tears threatened to spill over as she pressed her lips together.
The next time he lifted his head, she was gone.
-
It was way past midnight. Everything was eerily silent, but he took no notice of that, most probably because he was drunk.
Taking another gulp from the bottle, he tilted his head back, enjoying the burning liquid flowing down his throat. It was such a familiar feeling that he had missed for so long.
As he was drowning his sorrows, a soft meow reached his ears. He looked around blearily, trying to focus on the source of the sound. Spotting the cat's black head poking out from the bathroom, he swore at it. Confused at the hostile tone, it meowed again, heading towards him.
"Get lost!"
It paused, then, took another few hesitate steps towards him.
"I said, GET LOST!" He yelled. Its fur rose as it hissed, backing off. Then, it bounded off through the open doorway where it disappeared. He barely glanced at it as he cursed under his breath, lifting the bottle for another mouthful of comfort.
The only thing that mattered to him now.
Chapter 13a
"Why are we here James?"
"To meet a client, didn't I mention that?" He turned the steering wheel and a familiar sight came into view. On instinct, she scrunched down in her seat. Her husband gave her a puzzled glance. "What's wrong?"
"I never knew," she said. "That you discussed business in these kinds of places."
"Oh no, we don't usually. It's just this particular client's suggestion."
And out of all the bars in the world, this one?
"I assure you Jules," he was saying. "It won't take long, and it's not going to be rough or anything. The people in here will be all professional."
"I'm sure," she smiled weakly, mentally kicking herself for agreeing to come along. She hadn't known they would be arriving at the bar. As James pulled into a parking lot, she felt her chest get tighter and tighter, her heart starting to race.
It was past evening. What were the chances of Jack not working at this hour?
"Come on, Julie," James held a hand out to her. She took it and stepped out of the car. Before her were the doors that had greeted her on so many nights with the familiar blue smoky atmosphere. Clearing her throat, she forced out a couple of words. "Nice...place."
James patted her back, mistaking the source of her awkwardness and thinking it was due to a foreign place. She kept her head low as they entered, eyes darting as far as they could to search for his presence. She wasn't sure he would be here today, but it would do well to be certain. Even as they were walking to their seats, she felt ashamed of her own behaviour.
"Hey, are you okay?" Her husband wrapped her arm around her shoulders. "You know, I can always call Dave to send you home first if you're really uncomfortable with this."
She shook her head.
"It'll only be a while."
She smiled gratefully at him. As they were seated at one of the tables, she lifted her gaze to the one at the piano.
It wasn't him.
She hadn't known that it was possible to feel disappointment and relief at the same time, but now, she did. A worried frown appeared on her forehead. She excused herself to use the restroom. Passing the counter where the bartender was, she leaned over to get his attention. "Hey Richard, where's Jack?"
The surprise was apparent on his face. "He quit. He called this afternoon." Upon seeing her expression, he said, "He didn't tell you?"
"No," she answered. "But thanks."
Walking back to the table, she realized, if there ever was a time she had to find him, it was now. There may never be another time after this night. She needed to talk to him – needed to tell him she was sorry, needed to tell him that she really truly loved him. She had made an unforgivable mistake last night by leaving without telling him. She had to right it.
She went back to the table. "James, I'm going to take a walk. I'll be back in an hour."
He frowned. "It's not very safe."
"I'll be careful."
As she left the bar, she felt his eyes on her back. Pushing away the guilt, she focused on her current task. She glanced around, then, headed down a path that she knew so well that would lead to the apartment.
-
Heartbreak.
It was true, whoever said that heartbreak was a painful thing. Even the word sounded painful. He wanted to drink, had to drink. It would numb the unbearable pain that wouldn't go away. It was a way of escape from reality. He didn't want to feel, didn't want to think.
Didn't want to think of her.
There was nothing left now for him except to waste his life away. After all, his reason for living had decided to leave him. What else was there left for him?
There were no tears left. He had cried his eyes dry the night before. All he wanted to do now was to spend time with his old friend – the faithful bottle. Even his pet had not returned to comfort him. It only deepened the hurt within him. Useless, he said and told himself that he didn't need it around. Why was this world so unfair, he asked as he struggled to open another bottle of alcohol. It wasn't as though he had asked for the world's riches or anything.
As he failed to open the bottle for the third time, he lost his temper. "Damn this cap!"
There was a knock on the door.
It was her. He knew it was her. It couldn't be anyone else. Despite his reluctance to see her since she had left, a part of him had still hoped that she would return.
And she did.
After struggling to get off the floor, he took unsteady steps, stumbling towards the door. To him, it felt like an eternity to complete the short distance. When he finally managed to get the door open, he was barely able to stand on his own two feet.
He wondered how he looked like to her now.
Drunk.
Bloodshot eyes, skin pale as though it had never seen a ray of light...he was sure he stank of alcohol too.
He didn't know how to react when he saw her expression.
He felt bitter. He felt angry. He felt desperate. If she had been coming to tell him that she wasn't going to leave, she sure wasn't going to tell him now after seeing him like this. He let go of the door to walk back to his drinking spot when the room started to sway. She caught hold of him before he could fall and together, they made their way slowly back into the room where he collapsed onto the bed.
"Jack?"
He looked up, focusing on the lovely eyes as clear as the blue sky.
Blue sky. He thought he had forgotten how it looked like by now.
"Jack," she repeated. "Are you drunk?"
He just chuckled.
"Why?"
He didn't answer and let out a long, loud sigh.
"Jack?"
"Hm?"
"Why aren't you at the bar today?"
He turned his head to face her. She was gazing down at him, concern in her eyes. Her blond hair was tucked behind one ear. She was so pretty, he thought.
"Richard told me you quit," she was saying.
"Um...I...quit." The words came out, stumbling one after the other. "No m-more job!"
"Why?"
He heard her voice full of tears and felt his heart softening. He clenched his fists hard. He had no intention of letting that happen.
"Why Jack? And...and why are you drinking?"
He guessed she must have noticed his apartment littered with the empty bottles. Of course, it was obvious. Only a fool would not have been able to see them. He didn't.
"Why are you drinking?" Her voice was raised a notch.
He sighed, pushed himself up until their faces were only inches away. "Because," he said carefully and slowly. Deliberately. "I'm...a...drunk." A mirthless smile twisted his lips. "Do you think...I'm scum now?"
As he said those words, he heard her heart breaking. For that split second when he met her eyes, beyond the tears, he saw pain. But that pain was nothing compared to his.
Why couldn't she just see that she was ruining his life?
He grabbed her arm with a grip so tight he knew he was hurting her, but she didn't make as much as a whimper. He pulled her up and out the apartment.
There was a place they needed to go.
-
It had been a long night. She was tired, her back was aching and she was more than ready to lock up. She nodded to the cook who waved goodbye, then, proceeded to stack the menus neatly on the counter – her last task of the day.
As she was finishing, the bell tinkled.
"Hey, I thought you..." she paused mid-sentence, realizing who it was that had walked in. "Jack?"
He didn't greet her like she expected him to. As she took in the sight of the familiar woman whose arm he had in a grasp, she felt dread taking hold of her.
Oh no.
"T-tell her Kate," he slurred. "Tell her...w-what you k-know. T-tell her what...what he did!"
Her eyes slid from him to the woman who stood beside him with a confused look on her face – the woman who had the man she wanted and was now cheating on him.
Juliet.
"You've been drinking again," was all she said.
"Again?"
She stared at the blonde almost coldly who returned her gaze steadily. "You don't know?"
"Know what?" She seemed genuinely puzzled and frustrated at what was going on.
Oh Jack, what have you gotten yourself into? She doesn't even know about your addiction!
She shook her head before turning to him. "Come on Jack. Let's go."
"N-no!" He stuttered in a protest. "T-tell her!"
"Tell me what?"
"You don't want to know," she muttered. "Come on Jack! You're drunk!"
"I's...not." He was teetering, ready to fall any second.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you so are. And we are going. NOW." She took hold of his arm, put hers around his waist and began to make her way to the entrance. Not looking at the other woman, she said, "I suppose you know how to get back. If you don't, I suggest you call your husband to get you. You don't want to be wandering about here at night."
Back in the apartment, when they were both seated – her in a chair and he on the floor – she was more than ready to talk. She hadn't much time to spare. In fact, she should be home now with her son, but this she had to settle first.
"Jack. I know you're drunk, but I also know you understand everything that I'm saying right now," she said. When he didn't respond, she called his name sharply.
"Um." He blinked rapidly. "Here."
"Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with you."
"Eh?"
"Okay, you don't tell her about your past, I understand. Nor about your addiction. You don't tell her what her husband had done because apparently she doesn't know. So tell me, Jack. What DOES she know? What exactly have you told her?"
He scrunched up his face, thinking hard. "I told 'er...told...I love her."
"Not that kind, Jack. And did you quarrel with her or something?"
He gave a small shrug. "Dunno."
"She's not worth all the trouble."
He shut his eyes. She assumed by doing so, he had shut his ears too.
It was useless talking to him now, she was certain. "Alright, you sleep, Jack. I'll come and see you tomorrow as soon I can." After making sure he had heard what she said, she stepped out of the apartment, hurrying down the stairs, careful to avoid the dark wet spots.
What a great way to end the day, she thought. Another problem, another burden to bear.
She had finally seen clearly who James had for his wife. This Juliet seemed nice enough, but which nice woman would actually cheat on her husband and hurt a guy such as Jack? So much for him saying she would never hurt anybody, she scoffed. Sure, she didn't know the full story, but she was so sure she was right.
Or are you just jealous? The thought drifted by. Because she has all that you don't have. Everything you'd ever want and will never get.
When his eyes fluttered open, he found himself alone. The room was dark, lit up only by the moonlight spilling in through the balcony. Somewhere in the building, a child was crying. Outside, there was a sudden clatter in the night and far off, a dog barked madly in response.
That moment, he felt that very same loneliness that had plagued him weeks ago – before he had met her.
On the floor still cluttered with the empty bottles, he felt a huge weariness upon his chest – something that no amount of drinking could ever cure.
He got to his feet, willing away the dizziness, and drew a deep breath. What he would give to have that darn cat with him now, warming his cold body, licking his face and purring at his ear.
The world had never looked darker.
He shifted slowly towards the table and reached for his watch. It was early. There was enough time to drop by the bar and get his bike for a spin. He put on his watch, stuffed his keys into his pocket and headed down to the bar just as it began to drizzle.
-
"I know it's late, but we'll be back home in less than half an hour." He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The rain was getting heavier. Setting the windscreen wipers to a quicker speed, he went on, "Didn't that meeting go horribly? I mean, you weren't there to see the worst of it. If I'd known this would have happened, I would've sent Laurence instead." He took a hand off the wheel and massaged his temple. "In fact, I wouldn't be picking up this contract if it weren't so darn important. You don't mind, do you, Julie?" He looked at her.
She was spacing out, staring at the water droplets that were hitting the glass.
He touched her thigh, startling her out of her dazed state. "You okay?"
"Uh-huh."
"You've been stoning since just now. You sure nothing happened?"
"Sure." She smiled hesitantly. "James, can I ask you something?"
"Yeah?"
She bit her lip, then, blurted out, "Must we go?"
"Go where? To get the contract?" He frowned. "Yeah, it'll only take a while."
"No, not that," she said quickly. "I'm talking about us...moving to Italy."
He glanced at her. "I thought we had it all settled."
"Can we figure out some way so we wouldn't have to move? Perhaps you can work from here instead of having to go all the way there."
"Come on Julie. You know that's not possible."
"It's just a suggestion," she said contritely.
"And what made you bring this up?" The pounding in his head only seemed to worsen as he rubbed his temple again in small circles.
"No reason," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "It's just...I don't want to leave."
"And why didn't you say so earlier?" He said, a little irritably. "I've already got everything arranged – our housing and even the air tickets are booked."
"Can't we wait just another month?"
"No."
"Two weeks?"
"Juliet."
"So much for love and a new start," she muttered.
The car screeched to an abrupt stop before the traffic light. "Excuse me?"
"It's just another few weeks!"
"Yeah, but the problem here is that you said it was okay!" He shot back. "When I asked you—"
"How difficult," she cut in. "Can it be to change the timing just a little—"
"Very!" He slammed his hand on the top of the steering wheel.
The light had turned green. With an angry look, he shifted the gears and the car began down the road. The rain, now pouring heavily, sounded like tiny pebbles hitting the roof of the car. Somewhere outside, through the roar of the rain, was the sound of a racing motorbike.
But no one took note, too engrossed in the argument.
"I don't know what's wrong with you Juliet," he was saying. "Sometimes I really wonder what you're thinking. I thought we had it all settled. You know how important this is to me."
She stared at him. "Then maybe you should go and I should stay."
The roar was growing louder by the second as they speeded towards the intersection.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not."
He gritted his teeth, barely controlling his anger. Sooner or later, she was going to drive him crazy with her flip-flopping. As he turned to look at her, a bright light blinded him from the opposite direction. His eyes widened as he recognized the sight of the oncoming vehicle. He swerved sharply – a split-second too late it seemed.
It hit the bumper, but he had no time to worry about the motorcyclist. A blasting horn had pierced the air. He didn't know if it was his or someone else's. He didn't dare look down. He was struggling to regain control of his car, which was spinning all over the wet road, desperately trying to see past the rain streaming down the windscreen.
"It'll be fine," he was saying to his panic-stricken wife when all of a sudden, another vehicle slammed into them. He heard a sickening crunch of metal before his head hit the window. There was a moment of sharp pain, then, the feeling of warm liquid flowing down his face. When they finally jerked to a stop he didn't know.
And he was sinking…sinking…into the murky depths, as the blaring horn that never stopped, finally disappeared into silence.
-
Flashing lights. Screaming sirens. Cold, hard ground. Unfamiliar voices piercing through the hazy darkness.
"What happened?" "Some motorcyclist – apparently drunk -" "So what else is new." "He ran a red light. They tried to avoid hitting him, skidded when another car rammed into them." "Tough luck." "Um. Motorcyclist's fine but—" "Humph." "No surprise huh? They tested him for alcohol and he's way over the limit. Don't know what he was thinking." He felt himself being lifted gently onto something soft. The conversation went on. "We lost the old man in the other car." "Then these?" A pause. "Rich folks." "The guy should be fine after a couple days rest. He's got minor injuries. He's out now but I'm pretty sure he'll make it. As for the woman…I don't know. She's got some pretty serious wounds."
Were they talking about his wife, he wanted to ask. How was his wife, he screamed at them, but they could not hear him. He gave up, sinking in and out of consciousness, faintly aware of the surroundings until everything finally, thankfully, faded to black.
Chapter 14a
It was nearing lunchtime but the usual noises of cutlery clinking in the diner were noticeably missing. She sat behind the counter, fingers entwined together, and as she waited for customers to arrive, her mind began to wander. Winter was approaching. She had to get thicker clothing for Jacen and herself. A smile crept onto her face. A woolly sweater would be perfect for her son. Glancing at the clock, she sighed. There seemed to be no one coming in for lunch. She hadn't seen a single customer since more than an hour ago.
Just as she thought she would die of boredom, an elderly man with a head of white hair walked in with a folded newspaper tucked under his arm. He was decked out warmly in fashionable pants, shirt and a brown overcoat, which caught her envious attention because most inhabitants there hardly had enough money for proper clothes, much less stylish ones.
He smiled at her before heading for a seat by the window. As she stood by to take his order, her eyes happened to land on the heading of the paper lying on the table. In big, bold letters, it stared up at her – 'Drunken motorcyclist causes fatal accident' – which didn't bother her much until she caught sight of a familiar name in the article. Her face whitened.
"Do you mind," she managed to choke out. "If I borrow this?" Her eyes glued to the printing, she brought the newspaper to an empty booth and slumped onto the seat. An icy hand gripped her chest.
She had to find Jack.
-
He was floating in blissful nothingness when a frantic knocking interrupted his slumber. He twitched as the knocks became louder and more insistent. Groaning, he lifted his head up and squinted in the bright daylight pouring in through the open balcony. Who would make such a ruckus this early in the day?
"Jack!" From the other side of the door, there was a strained voice. "Jack! Open up!"
He rolled off the bed, recognizing Kate Austen's voice. As he proceeded to let her in, he nearly tripped over one of the alcohol bottles. A curse escaped his mouth and he kicked it away to a corner.
"Take a seat," he mumbled as she strode in. Once the door was shut, he returned to his bed, burying his head in his comfy pillow. "What's the matter?"
"Have you read today's newspaper?" Her voice was unnaturally tensed, but he wasn't awake enough to notice.
"No," he replied unconcernedly. "Why?"
"You need to take a look." She flung the morning's papers onto the bed.
With a long-suffering sigh, he rubbed his sleep-filled eyes and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "You know I never read the papers."
"Well, its time you should," she muttered with a tone he couldn't quite decipher.
He gave her an odd glance before focusing his attention on the article in front of him. "It's an accident."
"Read on."
Frowning, he returned his gaze to the neat array of words. Scanning through the article, it wasn't long till he realized what exactly he was reading – whom it concerned. The blood drained from his face. Scrambling up, he thrust the paper away from him forcefully. "It's impossible." His voice was trembling, and he steadied it as he repeated, "It's impossible."
"It's not."
He wrapped his arms around himself, rocking a little back and forth.
"Jack."
"No." He didn't want to listen. How he wished he could pretend that she never came today. That way, she could not have given him the bad news.
"Jack." Her voice pleaded with him.
"How could this have happened?"
"I don't know." Her faint answer echoed his helplessness. He was reminded that part of her was also involved. It wasn't just him alone. She was affected too. But, he added mentally, the one lying in a critical condition wasn't James Ford – it was Juliet. And to think he had last seen her just yesterday—
He dropped his head to his hands. "Where," his voice caught. He cleared it roughly and continued, "Where's she?"
Kate shook her head, mute.
"I…I gotta find her."
She bolted up from her chair. "I'll go with you."
"We need to get to the bar." He told her, all signs of sleepiness now non-existent. "I left my bike there. We'll just start from the hospital closest to where they were last night." As another idea struck, he paused. "Or maybe we can just call the police and ask."
She nodded, pale and silent.
He swallowed his cries as they left, hurrying down the street to the bar. Please be alright, he whispered in his stricken heart. Please be alright, Juliet.
-
Unlike the other areas in the hospital, the private room, one of the few expensive ones in the building, was quiet, untouched by the noisy atmosphere outside, save the air-conditioner that hummed a single monotonous note and the heart monitor that beeped a high pitch ever so constantly. Then, there was a male voice – a low, awkward voice that was strangely out of place.
"Hey," it began hoarsely. Then, it wavered and fell silent, as though it lacked courage and the words to go on.
Unhearing, she lay, motionless, on the bed.
He squeezed his hands together painfully before attempting to speak again. "I...I came to see you," he said, then, stopped. "Um, the doctor told me that I could come in and talk to you. I heard...I heard that talking helps patients get well better." He had to force the next few words out in a strangled voice. "Patients in...in comas."
The lack of response was unbearable, yet, he pressed on, determined not to let his discomfort daunt him. "I was...was..." He swallowed hard. "I couldn't believe it when Kate told me what happened. I didn't know what to do. When I was trying to find you…I cried," he licked his dry lips. "Cried like a freaking baby...on the road. I can't remember the last time I ever cried like that." He was beginning to relax a little now.
"I took hours to find you. They didn't tell me where you were because..." He shrugged, though he knew that she couldn't see. "I don't know. I wasn't related, I guess. I had to search the hospitals one by one." He shifted in the hard-backed chair. "I'm not trying to sound gallant or anything. Um, I...I just want to say...say that...that..." He was finding it harder to speak. The lump in his throat seemed to block every word that he wanted to say. He swallowed. "It was hard. Those hours I spent were...were the most...painful hours I've ever experienced...ever..."
All at once, the stark reality of the situation sank in. A wave of intense anguish overcame him. He hunched over in his chair and wept. Painful sobs racked his body such that he was shaking, trembling all over. The tears flowed. Her beloved name passed his lips, too many times for him to count, the only word that his tightened throat allowed him to cry out.
When it was over, when all the tears had dried and he felt able to speak, he said, "You know, if I were still a doctor, I would treat you, make sure you recover." He touched her hand. It was cold. He wrapped his fingers around it, spreading his warmth to her. "You would've loved to know that I was a doctor once. Since I was a kid, I've always wanted to be a doctor – heal people, make them well." He breathed a soft sigh. "Then I...I made a terrible mistake. It was a...delicate surgery. I was nervous. Not just because I haven't done it before, but...but because the one I was operating on was someone I loved." His vision blurred. He blinked his eyes rapidly. "Anyways, she died. I couldn't...couldn't save her."
He stopped talking then. Stroking her hand with his thumb, he looked at her pale face. He didn't know what he hoped to see. Perhaps he expected her to wake and tell him that it wasn't his fault, or perhaps just take him in her arms and hold him. Whatever it was, all he knew was that he wanted her to awake from her deep sleep.
She didn't.
He pressed her hand to his lips, then, carried where he left off. "I quit because I wanted to drink away the pain. I didn't want to feel anything. Then I saw you." His breath caught as he remembered the time he had seen her. "You were like an angel with your golden hair and white dress." A faint smile appeared on his face. "I wanted to get to know you. And to think my wish came true." He chuckled softly. "Remember the first time we met? You looked so scared." His laughter died away and he whispered, "I'd never let anything bad happen to you."
The words hung in the air as ironic evidence of what he had spoken, mocking him.
So much for your protection.
The monitor beeped on, somehow a source of comfort for him.
As the minutes passed, he knew he had to leave. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand, but not before caressing it gently. "I'll be back," he promised. Taking one last look at her, he then pushed the door open, nearly bumping into a man who was coming in at the exact same time. He lifted his eyes and met those of James Ford.
They sat opposite each other in the cafeteria with steaming cups of coffee before them. Both men looked quite uncomfortable, though each had a different reason for it. James, being the one who had invited the other for a drink, was the first to start the ball rolling.
"So...you're old friends with Julie?"
Julie.
With much difficulty, he swallowed his jealousy. "No. Not really."
"Oh."
Jack fingered the handle of his cup. For the sake of politeness, more than anything else, he then asked, "How are you feeling?"
"Guilty," James said, choking out the words. "It was my fault."
"No. It wasn't."
Yes, it was, his mind screamed though his expression never changed. You nearly killed her.
"I wasn't watching," his voice began to shake. "She was talking, trying to reason with me. But I didn't want to listen. She...she didn't want to go."
His ears pricked up. "Go where?"
"Italy."
A sharp arrow, seemingly flying out from nowhere, stung his heart. His fingers tightened on the cup.
James carried on, unaware of the impact his words had caused. "And when...when I saw it, saw him...it was too late."
"He was drunk. He ran a red light."
"I'm the driver, Jack. I should've been paying attention to the road, not arguing."
Intense brown eyes stared at the distressed man. He no longer tried to convinced him that the accident wasn't his fault. He only wanted to ask the one question that mattered to him. "Is she going to be alright?"
James shrugged. "The doctor says she may awake any time. She hurt her spine so she needs an operation."
"Oh." He sat back with a sigh, withholding the information of his history as a spinal surgeon. That was the past. "She should be fine after the operation."
As the seconds ticked by in silence, he thought, he couldn't have wished for a worse position to be in. If he was told a week ago that the husband of Juliet Ford would ask him out for coffee, he would never have believed it. Sitting there right now in that situation, he wondered where Kate was. Did she see him with James and was purposely staying out of sight? Gripping the porcelain cup, he cautiously took a sip of the hot liquid.
"How did you get to know Juliet?"
The question took him by surprise. He fumbled a bit, nearly spilling coffee all over himself. When he finally set it down on the table, it was with a clinking sound that seemed too loud in the nearly deserted canteen. He straightened and said carefully, vaguely, "We met a while back. I helped her once when she was out on the streets. We…became friends. I found out that she plays the piano. Sometimes, I teach her more. But she's good enough already."
James broke into a small smile. "I suppose she is."
"I hear she's into painting too."
The smile slipped from his face. Jack felt a small amount of satisfaction as the blond man appeared to wither a little. His jab had hit the target. "You okay," he asked, knowing full well what was wrong.
The reply was short. Blue-green eyes flickered to him, then, narrowed with the slightest hint of suspicion. "Tell me again, Jack. Have you been friends for long?"
I didn't.
Settling a relatively neutral expression on his face, he began to spin a tale about how he had first encountered Juliet and what they had been doing since then. "And that's about all," he concluded what he hoped was a convincing story. "We've only really met a few times." It wasn't too far off from the truth, yet he made it sound as though he and Juliet were merely friends.
James uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair. "She must've loved it." At Jack's questioning gaze, he said. "She must've loved the times she spent with you...with anybody. I..." he hesitated. "I wasn't a very doting husband."
Astonishment crept over Jack's features. He sure hadn't expected a confession.
"I ignored her for most part of last year...until the recent weeks. I'd been busy with my work, earning money, being the man that everyone wants to be." He paused. "I thought, somehow, that by just fulfilling her material needs, she would be happy." At the disbelief on Jack's face, he smiled wryly. "I guess you didn't need to find that out. You knew it the moment you met her."
"So did you. But you just didn't wish to see that she wanted...needed more." Having said that, he shut his mouth, thinking that he had already given away too much, but James had nodded.
"You're right. I knew."
When it was clear that he had said all that he wanted to, Jack cleared his throat. It was time for him to ask the questions. This is for you, Kate. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you know someone by the name of Kate Austen?"
If it were possible, Jack could've sworn that the other man had grown whiter and his breathing irregular at the mention of the brunette.
"How did you..." His voice trailed off. He managed to collect himself and recovering some of his composure, said, "How do you know her?"
"Old friend."
"And what makes you think that I know her?" He was staring warily at Jack.
"She mentioned you before. I thought it was such a coincidence, since I know Juliet. It was a surprise...finding out that both of you know each other."
James drained the rest of his coffee in one gulp. After a while, he asked, "What did she say?"
"Nothing much. Just that she knows you," he lied. "That's all."
"Is she...is she here?"
At that point of time, Jack caught a glimpse of a slender figure with brown wavy hair by the entrance. It was unmistakably Kate. There weren't many people around in the cafeteria and she spotted him with his unsuspecting companion in a second. Even from a distance, the change in expression and colour of her face was obvious to Jack.
Meanwhile, James was still probing for an answer. "Is she?"
"Uh, no," he replied with a distant smile. Would she venture over, he thought with a flash of worry that disappeared the moment he glanced back and noticed that she was gone. He felt an odd sense of relief that she had backed away. "I have to go," he said, hoping that his departure was not abrupt enough to be considered rude. But it didn't matter as he noted that James was in a daze.
As they stood up together, he grasped James's offered hand and shook it.
"Keep in touch, eh?"
He nodded. "Take care."
With that, he hurried off, leaving James alone, swirling in his pool of thoughts.
Chapter 15a
It had been a long and loud one-sided argument from the moment he had presented his request to her. It was a good thing there were no customers around to witness their exchange because they would have been scared off, never to return. Even now, she stomped from table to table, wiping the unused tops unnecessarily, controlled fury in each sharp movement. He, unafraid and persistent, followed her every step.
Finally, she spun around, green eyes flashing. "You can't make me, Jack. You're wasting your time! I'm not going!"
"And why not?"
"I just don't want to!" She flared up. "What's the difficulty in understanding that?"
"All I know, Kate, is that there's always a reason behind every action, and unless you tell me why, I will keep bugging you."
They stood, face to face, in tensed silence for the next few seconds, battling it out.
She was the first to turn away. All fire extinguished, she plopped onto the seat with a sigh. He felt bad, forcing her to do what she wasn't up to, but couldn't she see how much he needed her to help him?
"She's awake, isn't she?"
Her voice was tired, as though she had already given up the fight. He sat down, carefully planning out his words before he spoke. "He called me...this morning. Told me she was out of the coma...and asked me to drop by to see her."
"So go see her, Jack." She lifted her head with a barely hidden look of anguish, tears on the verge of falling. "I don't have to go. I don't want to go. I don't want to...to..."
"Kate, he'll be there and I...I've never been in a place where both of us are together...and she awake. I'm afraid," his voice caught. "Afraid of what would happen. What I'd do." He was glad she could not see that his hands were trembling. "Please. You're the closest person I have for a friend. I really need you there."
Her teary gaze was full of uncertainty. She was considering his plea, he could see, and held his breath, waiting in painful anticipation. When she gave a hesitant nod, relief flooded him. "Thanks Kate."
"You owe me one," was all she muttered as she turned away to pacify a disgruntled couple who had been waiting for the past one minute at the counter.
-
She's awake. She's awake.
His heart pounded in anticipation as he waited, almost impatiently, for the elevator doors to open. What would her expression be like when she saw him?
That isn't what you should be worried about, Jack. The million dollar question is whether she'll be pleased to see you or not. Of course she'll be pleased, I'm sure her last encounter with you isn't exactly a fond memory. Well, yeah, Would she? But it's not her that's the problem, Jack. It's you. How can you bear to face her again after all that has happened?
The lift doors opened. He stepped in, roughly jabbing the button for the top most floor. Kate glanced at him strangely. He produced a weak smile. "Nerves."
"And I thought I was the only one," she said under her breath.
Surprisingly, and thankfully, the voice seemed to have disappeared for the time being. He felt his palms grow wet as they neared the room. A low murmuring could be heard from the outside.
James.
His heart tightened.
"Jack?"
He jerked around. Kate had stopped a few steps away. On her face was an unnatural expression that he could not figure out. "Why?"
She took a deep breath. "Look...Jack. I thought I'd be ready for this...but...but I'm not. I can't see him now...not just yet. I'm sorry...so sorry," she faltered. As she backed away slowly, her voice became a mere whisper. "I'll wait for you downstairs." She turned and within a few seconds, was gone.
Now he was all by himself. So much for support.
He rubbed his palms against his light blue jeans. It was all going to be fine, he told himself. Nothing would cause him to do anything out of the ordinary. He wouldn't break down. He wouldn't cry.
Even as he thought this, he had to swallow hard. He hadn't quite pictured Juliet's husband to be in the room during his arrival earlier. Perhaps he should leave while he still could. Yet, before he could make a choice, he heard footsteps approaching the entrance. He stepped back just as the door swung open, cutting off any chance of escape that might have been.
James met his eyes with a friendly gaze. "Hey."
He acknowledged the greeting with an uncomfortable smile.
"You came."
"Yeah," he looked away for a moment. "Is she…alright?"
"A little dazed, but other than that, I believe she's fine." His expression turned sober. "But she still doesn't know about the injury that I talked to you about the other day. Remember?"
He nodded stiffly.
"I hope you won't mention it to her just yet. I don't know how she'll take the news."
"I won't tell."
"I need to leave for about an hour or so. I know, it's really not a good idea at this time, but I really have to sort this thing out. Do you mind keeping her company for a while?"
Mind? What he would give to have just an hour alone with her! He hid his happiness behind a small smile as he bid him goodbye, trying to ignore the guilt that nibbled at his conscience.
It was dark inside, sans the fading sunlight through the yellow curtains. He could make out her figure, sheltered from the cold by a blanket, lying on the bed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and slowly, made his way towards her.
"Hey."
Blue eyes fluttered open. He felt his breath catch as they met his.
"I...I heard that you were awake. So I...I came to see you." He detested the stuttering that had all of a sudden decided to appear in his speech.
Her gaze, as she looked at him, was steady, unlike his.
"Thanks."
The word came out in a weak whisper, but it was there, and her voice was as sweet as he remembered it to be.
"How are you...feeling?"
"Fine."
"Oh." He paused awkwardly. "Well...that's good." He stood, somehow with a sense of shame, finding it a difficult task to make eye contact. As she tried to shift her position on the bed, a wince of pain escaped and immediately he was hovering over her, asking if he should get the doctor.
She shook her head with the tiniest of smiles.
"Are you sure?"
"I heard...you came...everyday."
He pressed his lips together and said brusquely, "You should rest. You aren't supposed to talk." Seeing the sudden tears that came to her eyes at his tone, he wondered what had possessed him to speak in such a way. "I'm sorry, Julie." He laid his hand on the bed. "I'm just...just..."
Her hand was touching his.
He couldn't carry on. A wave of emotions was surging through him. How could such simple contact tear him inside out?
Yes, he wanted to be with her. He desired her to be with him, but now that it was happening, much to his astonishment, he found that he couldn't handle it.
He pulled his hand away.
Avoiding her eyes, he pulled a chair next to her and sat down, keeping a short, but safe distance between them. When the silence became unbearable and her sad gaze too much for him, he started up a conversation, voice unnaturally light and happy.
"I met him the first time I came to visit you. James. He—"
"I heard you," she whispered hoarsely. "Those visits...I heard everything you said."
A faint red stained his cheeks.
"You said...you wouldn't let anything bad...happen to me."
He could hear a smile in her voice, and despite himself, he felt it reflecting on his face. "You heard everything?"
She nodded once, messing up her blond hair on the pillow. A little bruise was starting to heal on her temple. In the dim light of the day, though white as sheet, he noted how beautiful she still was. It took much effort to tear his eyes away from her.
"Jack?"
"Hm?"
"That incident...it wasn't your fault."
He didn't have to ask her what she was meant. He knew. Though his heart was bursting with things to say, he held it all within him. She smiled again as her eyes drifted shut. He breathed a sigh.
What am I going to do, Juliet? What will I do without you?
Up. Down. Up. Down.
The bouncing motion as he strode down the pathway with her in his arms made her dizzy. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed closer to his chest.
"Cold?"
She shook her head, meeting warm, brown eyes that smiled down at her. "Just slightly uncomfortable with the bobbing up and down."
"Won't take much longer. We'll be there soon."
She took a deep breath, letting the soothing sound of the nearby waves wash over her. The little leaves of red and yellow spun and twirled in circles, dancing in the wind until they were finally blown into the sea, where they settled for floating upon its surface. The last of the suns golden rays were fading fast, reflected upon the water's rippling surface.
"Here we go," he said as he gently set her down onto one of the old but sturdy wooden benches by the grassy patch near the beach. "I'm gonna get the stuff from the car. Don't fall over or anything, okay? I don't want James to hack me to pieces." He winked at her. She managed a smile in return, still unsure of how she felt about his new friendship with her husband.
He walked off, his footsteps fading in the distance, and once alone, the conversation that she'd overheard the previous night unfolded in her mind.
"I know you can, Jack." "I can't. I don't want to—" "I trust you. You know you're able to do the operation. She'll want you to." Underneath the covers, in the dark, she lay awake, listening to the men talk. "I'm not ready. What if something—" "Goes wrong? Nothing will go wrong. You're an experienced surgeon." There was no reply. She bit her lip, knowing that he was thinking of his last operation, the cause of his downward spiral. "Think about it." James spoke, in a softer voice this time. "When you're certain of your answer, let me know." "James." "Now, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" There was a bit of mumbling that she couldn't quite catch. Complaints about the change of subject? She cocked her head, straining her ears. "The beach?" "Only for a few hours. She's been cooped up in that room for days. Fresh air will do her good." There was a pause. Then, she heard James's hesitant voice. "You know it's not…convenient. She can't—" "I know. It doesn't matter. I promise. I'll return her back to you, safe and sound." "The wheelchair—" At the hideous word, she tensed up, her fists clenched. Eyebrows dipped. "I don't need that thing," she heard him say. "She doesn't…" His voice lowered. "I don't think she likes being in that thing anyway." The sound of footsteps seeped in through the slightly opened doorway. Someone was pacing. "Just a few hours, James. It won't hurt her." A pause. "Okay."
She watched him set the basket down when he returned, spread the mat on the dry, crisp grass, still warm from the afternoon sun, and observed how carefully, how tenderly he picked her up and carried her to the ground. As he sat there with her, she knew he was waiting for her to say something - thank him for bringing her out, tell him that she was hungry, let him know that she remembered this very place.
But she felt uninterested in speaking those words when there was just one thing weighing heavily on her mind. She stared out at the sparkling sea. Every few seconds, the waves would roll and splash onto the sandy shore. Then, they would retreat and the same process would happen again. She could spend the rest of her life watching the scenario and not tire of it.
The cool wind blew on her face, ruffling strands of gold hair. Leaves rustled as the lighter branches waved, almost in unison. Still she stared out into the water, blue eyes unseeing, unfocused, mind occupied with only one thought.
"Jack."
"Yes?"
His response was almost too quick, too eager. But he would not be prepared for what she had to say.
"I want you to do the operation."
It was barely more than a whisper, but the stunned silence that met it made it seem like more.
She turned to him, her gaze earnest, and his taken-aback. "I want you Jack. I want you to be my doctor."
"You heard—"
"Talking last night. James said…some things that I agree with. I really hope you consider it."
He was shaking his head, even before she had finished. "I can't."
"You can."
"I'm not ready. I'm not going to risk—"
"I know you can. You just need an opportunity to prove to yourself—"
"At the risk of your life?" His voice was tight, spoken through teeth gritted together. "Not a chance."
"Jack."
"No."
"Please."
"It is out of the question." Each word was laced with an unfamiliar coolness and finality.
A tiny frown crept onto her forehead. "It's not like I'm asking you to kill for me."
It's close. She could almost hear him say, painfully.
She met his brown eyes that were darkening by the second. "You're not going to kill me."
He shot her a look of exasperation as though she was a child throwing a temper tantrum and needed a parent's coaxing. "What you need, Juliet, is a doctor who's capable and confident of his skills, not one who's an alcohol-addicted failure of a doctor!"
His last words rang in mid-air, hanging there, mocking the both of them. He jerked his gaze away from eyes that were clouded with hurt of his rejection, and yet, also with the pain at the agony she knew he was going through.
"Please."
It was made with a soft voice trembling with tears. He did not look at her, did not want to soften and give in to her.
"Please."
There it was again.
He pressed his lips together. He had made his stand very clear. There was no need for further explanation.
"Jack."
"It's enough for today," he finally said. The strange silence that followed it was unbearable. He swallowed once, then, spoke. "Would you like to eat?"
She was staring back at the sea and its ever-crashing waves, expressionless, whispery voice dead. "I'm not hungry."
Chapter 16
For what seemed like the thousandth time, his eyes flickered to the clock. It was ten past seven, five minutes since he had last checked. That made nearly two hours that they were gone. He couldn't stop fidgeting. What it was that bugged him, he didn't know.
He had a suspicion that it was due to the new guy, Jack, the doctor who had appeared out of the blue. His discomfort stemmed from the fact that his wife placed so much trust in him, someone whom he barely knew. To say it disturbed him was an understatement. When he witnessed how gently Jack lifted his wife from the bed, he nearly stepped forward to say that he had changed his mind.
But he didn't. He had kept his mouth shut, acknowledged Jack's goodbyes, and watched them make their way from the room. Just thinking about it caused a little frown to appear.
It's an affair, James. Why else is she insisting that she wants him to operate on her? It's as plain as day and you know it's true. Did you see how they looked at each other, how tender his touch was?
He was quick to rebut. Of course he would be tender. She's been in an accident. Yet, even as he reasoned with himself, he could not help but think about the truth of what had been said. He leaned forward, elbows on knees and chin resting on the top of his hands. No. It cannot be. Juliet would never…she would never— Cheat on you?
At that, he straightened and pressed his hands together, sucking in cold air between his teeth. He didn't want to believe this rubbish that he was being fed. He couldn't. Not when he was about to—
You reap what you sow, James. Whatever goes around comes around. You heard of those? You cheated on her once. Now it's her turn to do the same. The voice was fading as it went on with its cruel words. It's her turn to cheat on you, James. It's her turn to cheat on you.
The sting of his nails digging into his flesh was what made him realize how tight he was clenching his hands. He stared down at them and willed himself to calm down. Think logically, James. Why is a mere voice getting you all worked up?
"Okay, Ford, you gotta get a grip," he spoke aloud to no one in particular. "You aren't going to take some nonsense that has been spouted from your own mind, are you?" Taking a deep breath, he stood up and walked to the window, covering the distance in a few, quick steps. It was getting dark. He wondered if she was warm enough. He rested his forehead on the cold glass, gazing out at the city lights.
Had he been living one big, terrible mistake? Was it too late to make it right?
*
The low purr of the car filled the car as he drove down the road back to the hospital. Not one word was spoken during the journey, partly because Juliet had fallen asleep, and partly because of the countless thoughts that were running through his mind. Each question led to another, and it infuriated him that he could not find the answers to them.
A quiet sigh beside him distracted him momentarily. He glanced to his side, his gaze softening as it landed on her, and was glad to see that in her slumber, the crease between her eyebrows was gone. He returned his focus on the road. It would only take another few minutes before they reached their destination. He convinced himself that he needed some more time to sort out his thinking, but in fact, he just wanted some time to be with her a little longer.
He pulled the car to a stop. In the stillness within the vehicle, he watched her sleep, a small smile on his face. Not once did her beauty fail to astound him. At times, it took his breath away, and this was one of those times. He wanted to take her in his arms, caress her face, stroke her hair and kiss the sweetest lips he had ever known.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her.
Yet, his hands stayed on the steering wheel. If he touched her skin now, if he kissed those lips of an angel, there was a chance that he may do the unthinkable.
Like running away to Paris? There was a snort. You have got to be kidding me. What wrong can the great Mr Shephard do? Just kiss her already. I won't. Ah, just do it, Jack.
His knuckles turned the color of ivory as he gripped the steering wheel, struggling for control. The more his eyes lingered, the more the voice taunted, and the more powerful the urge grew. Yes, he was tempted to do just that.
How could anyone feel such agony?
I need you, Juliet. Do you know how much I need you?
It felt as though he was being torn apart from the inside. Biting down hard on his teeth, he wrenched his eyes away, literally having to turn his head to face the road. When he had his emotions under control, he drew in a shaky breath. He couldn't afford to fall apart now, not just when she needed him.
Starting the engine, he shifted the gears and they drove off once more.
*
He was standing at the doorway when they returned. He noted that Juliet was fast asleep, carried in the arms of Jack, her head supported by his shoulder. He wasn't sure he was pleased with that.
"I'll take her," he said in a low voice as he stepped forward. Was it just him, or did Jack seem rather reluctant to hand her over? He shook off the niggling thought, scowling a little. It didn't take long to settle her in bed, and after making sure she was warm enough, he stood by the bedside in silence for nearly a minute, acutely aware of Jack standing next to him.
Waiting.
He pressed his lips together, and then, shoved his hands deep in his pockets. "She liked it." It came out as a sentence instead of a question, though he really meant to ask if Juliet liked the trip out. He heard Jack clear his throat.
"She," his voice caught. "She loved it."
James closed his eyes. He had not expected and could not comprehend the depth of the emotions he'd gathered from hearing Jack speak those words.
So it was right.
"James?"
The word hung in the air. He lifted his head, not quite looking at the doctor. How could he when he knew?
"I'm not going to do it."
He blinked, slightly bewildered by the sudden change of topic.
"The operation. I'm not going to do it."
It made him more confused than ever. If his thoughts were correct, if Jack felt something for his wife, then why was he rejecting her request to perform the surgery? He could not understand. He turned around, looking directly into the doctor's eyes.
There was a glint of stubbornness in them as he repeated, almost defiantly, "I'm not going to do the operation, James."
Chapter 17
Jacen sat quietly at the corner of the booth, sucking contentedly from his milk bottle. Once in a while, she would throw him little glances, making sure that the milk wasn't dripping onto his jumper. Every so often, she would notice his turquoise eyes upon the strange man sitting across the table from his mommy.
Meanwhile, that strange man, Jack, was ignoring her. He was playing with the salt and pepper shakers on the table, arranging and re-arranging them in different positions. She narrowed her eyes, then, proceeded to let out an exaggerated sigh. Still, it was as though he was pretending she didn't exist. After the longest time of observing him, she had enough.
Crushing her napkin into a ball, she threw it at him, where it bounced off his shoulder onto the floor. "Okay, Jack. I'm not going to sit here, wasting my half-day off just to see you try to find the best spot on the table to promote the diner's shakers. You wanna talk, talk now."
He finally looked at her, acknowledging her presence. She returned the stare, raising her eyebrows. "So? You gonna say something?"
He stayed silent, looking at her, then back down at the shakers. Apparently, doing it the hard way wasn't going to work with him. She ran a hand through her brown tresses and leaned against the patched cushion of the seat. "I'm here to help, Jack. I'm always here to help, but I can't do a single thing if you won't tell me what's bothering you."
"She wants me to do it, Kate. She wants me to do the surgery and I told her no." He lifted his head, his eyes dark with pain. "I'm afraid something'll go wrong and…and I'll lose her. I can't take that risk, Kate. I can't."
Oh, Jack.
He drummed his fingers on the tabletop a couple of times, breathing deeply. "I've been dreaming the past few nights. I dream that I'm in the operating theater and no one's there but me…and the patient. I don't know how, but I know…I know I've just lost her. I look down at the table and I…" he faltered. "I see her face."
"Jack."
"Anyway," he went on, not hearing her. "I think of it this way. If I don't do the operation, she'll get one of the best surgeons in the country. It wouldn't matter…it really wouldn't." He stopped here and glanced at her. "He still remembers you, you know."
For a moment there, she was speechless, not because of the abrupt change of subject, but because she knew who exactly he was referring to. She told herself that it was natural for her to stiffen at those words, and pasting a nonchalant smile on her face, asked him who he was talking about.
He looked incredulous, seeing right through her pretense. "You know who exactly, Kate. I asked him about you."
"And why, Jack? Why did you ask?"
"I just wanted to—"
"To nothing," She said with sudden ferocity, surprising him. "Listen to me, Jack. He never spared a thought for me when he left. He's not even part of Jacen's life so why did you ask?"
"Because I wanted to know," he shot back with equal intensity. "I wanted to know—"
"At my expense?" She cut in. "Do you really need to know that he cheated on your beloved Juliet so you can tell her and she'll think you're her knight in shining armor?"
"Come on, Kate. That has never been my intention!"
"I cannot believe this."
"If you would—"
"I never once said that I needed him to come back! I never—"
"Kate!"
In the end, it wasn't Jack's words that stopped her tirade. It was the little hand tugging on her shirt. It was the tear-filled eyes of her baby gazing up at her, frightened by his own mother. As she looked at him, she felt her heart break, felt the utmost regret for causing that insecurity on his face. Pulling him onto her lap, she buried her face in his hair. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm sorry."
She heard Jack clear his throat.
"Kate?"
"Yeah?"
She thought he looked uncomfortable when he said, "I just thought you'd like to know…he misses you."
Managing a teary smile, she whispered, "Right. Thanks."
-
The moment she awoke, she knew she was back in the hospital ward. She felt the bed's softness beneath her, the cold air on her face. Her body, though, was surprisingly warm. Someone had taken the trouble to pull the blanket around her shoulders so that she wouldn't catch a chill.
She cracked open her eyes just a little, then blinked, focusing on her surroundings. Someone was by the bed.
James.
He was fast asleep, arms on the top of her bed and head resting on them. A faint smile appeared on her face. He still had the few days old beard that she had asked him yesterday to get rid of. It seemed that he hadn't listened and stayed in the hospital the entire time instead of going back home.
Wait a minute. Was it yesterday or the day before?
Yesterday. Just before Jack came to take you out.
The mere mention of his name brought back a rush of memories, of the things that occurred, of the conversations they had at the beach, and with it, a sense of guilt.
Guilt because you kept forcing him to do what he doesn't want, right, Julie? You know how much it's bothering him. You know he's being torn into two but you still insist. I didn't mean…I didn't mean that. You should've just been grateful to him for everything he did. I am. I just— Hold on for a second here. So? So, that means James cares more for her. That is the most ridiculous logic I've ever heard. Try this. Ever since Jack has known Juliet, he's always been there for her, even now. Can't say the same for big-shot Mr James.
Her head was swimming with voices, thoughts that didn't seem to help any. To James' credit, it was he who kept her calm when she first learnt of her spinal cord injury. He had been there to wipe her tears away, to comfort her and to reassure her that after the surgery, she'd be able to walk again. But she knew if Jack had been there, he would've done the same.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she recalled what he had told her, the failed surgery that turned him to the bottle. Would he really let his fear from that one incident keep him from fulfilling her request? And was she going too far by pushing him?
"You're up."
Sleepy blue eyes met hers. Lips curved into a smile. "Hi."
"How're you feeling?"
"Better. I—" She broke off mid-sentence, a sudden tingling in her lower back for a split-second getting her attention.
James frowned. "What's wrong?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but winced instead because the second time the feeling came, it was no longer just a tingling. It was unpleasant and it was making her scared.
"Shall I call the doctor?" James asked, now getting up from his chair, worried.
"I—"
She didn't have the opportunity to finish her sentence. This time, it hit her without mercy, sharp pain shooting up her spine. She let out a wail of pain, twisting in agony, conscious of nothing more than the fire that burned within.
-
The screams reached him the moment he stepped out from the elevator. Recognizing those cries, the blood drained from his face, leaving him a ghastly shade of white. He quickened his steps, his heart pounding so hard he could hear the rhythm in his ears. Once he had rounded the corner, he crashed into someone.
"Juliet," he said breathlessly, searching James Ford's face and meeting red-rimmed eyes. "Is she…"
"I don't know. They chased me out."
"The doctor?"
"In there."
"Right, right," he said, partly to himself. "Probably giving her a jab."
Noticing the cries had ceased, he breathed a sigh of relief, guessing that the sedative had done its job. It was then when he realized that James was looking at him, and after a minute, he grew uncomfortable with the weight of the stare.
"Do the surgery."
He crinkled his forehead, perplexed. "Excuse me?"
"I said, do the surgery."
Eyes burned deep into his. At that moment, that very second, it dawned upon him that the man was well aware of what was going on between him and Juliet. He pressed his lips together and choosing to only address the issue at hand, he shook his head, looking at the far end of the corridor. "I told you, I'm not going to."
"If you really like her, you'd do it." His voice was dead.
"Dammit, James. That's not the point."
Something within the other man snapped. Before he knew what was happening, James had grabbed him roughly by the front of his shirt. Shoving him against the wall, he said tightly, "Then what is the point, Shephard? My wife is lying in there, suffering, and you refuse to lift a finger to help. You claim you love her?"
He never meant to retaliate in any way, but as soon as he heard the disdain dripping from the man's voice, a sudden rage began to take hold of him. Who was this man to speak about love? Words that he would regret were tempted to be spoken and he was powerless to stop them.
"The point," he spat, his face hardening. "Is the fact that you slept with Kate Austen. It is you having a son as a result, and it is you doing nothing about it! But you know what?" He wrenched himself away, shooting a withering look at the man who now stood, unsteady on his feet. "What irks me most of all is that she," he jabbed angrily towards the room where Juliet was. "Doesn't know shit about it."
Without pity, he watched through eyes dark with fury as the man who had fallen heavily against the wall, slid down to the floor, pale and dazed, and in a voice that was dangerously low, he said to him, "If you aren't going to tell her, James. I will."