Disclaimer: JJ Abrams owns all Lost-related trademarks.
A/N: Post-rescue fic. You know I had to do one eventually. Title is from the Alison Krauss and Union Station album of the same name.
A/N 2: A work-in-progress?! It can't be! Yes, my friends, a Lost fic that has escaped the curse of one-shot-edness. Totally a word, by the way, one-shot-edness. For how long this thing is planning on going, I haven't the slightest. But, Jack/Kate, whee!
Lonely Runs Both Ways
Chapter One: Restless
It was cold.
That was the thing about the island - cold in the tropics meant below seventy degrees. Here, as soon as she stepped into the hotel room, a shiver tread up her spine, like a blast of icy air when the door opened. She rubbed her arms unconsciously. Everything seemed dimmer - the glow of the bedside lamp barely shadowed the edge of the bed, and the outline of the TV against the wall could barely be seen in the moonlight spilling into the room from the sliding glass doors. Kate was so used to the sunlight beaming overhead, creating the effect of a brightness she thought might have often kept them unconsciously sane on the days spent stranded, that anything else seemed mull in comparison.
With hesitant steps, she made her way toward the bed, sinking into the mattress and curling up on the bedspread. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew vaguely that she was exhausted - in the last twenty-four hours alone, it seemed as though the entire world had become focused on the survivors returning to civilization. She could hardly believe it when the Australian authorities told her it had only been a few months since the crash; it seemed as though years had passed on the island that seemed to have its own take on time. The last few days were nothing but a rush, from the moment the ship had been spotted on the horizon and she had felt her stomach flip in a thousand emotions swirled into dueling fear and relief. She could barley move, she was shaking so badly as the ship approached, and she had felt Jack's eyes on her from his place beside her on the beach. When he stood up, she closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe, knowing that he would leave her to face what she'd had coming for an awfully long time alone. Kate somehow hadn't thought it would be any different; she had always been on her own, and there was certainly no reason this should be any different. If anything, this was it.
Then she opened her eyes, and saw his hand reaching out to her. She looked up in disbelief, and his expression was one she could read through the tears welling up in her eyes before he even spoke.
"We're doing this together," he said simply.
They had made their way toward the ship, Kate gripping Jack's hand so tightly she was afraid she might hurt him, but she couldn't seem to let go. He understood, she knew; that was the thing about Jack that had made her keep him close. No matter what, whether they were fighting, arguing over secrets and lies and the layers she had woven to protect herself, or flirting, glances across the beach and smiles reserved only for those moments, or wherever they happened to be in the complicated relationship she had grown to count on as the one stable thing she had on the island, Jack had always understood.
As the ship had approached the docks of Sydney, crowds had already formed against the feeble police barricades - citizens vying for a look at the group of human beings virtually lost in the mysterious plane crash. Around the other side of the dock, flashbulbs were already going off - Kate held up a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding dots on the approaching horizon. Jack glanced down at her, and she stared down at her feet, a fear she hadn't remembered the feeling of for a long time coursing through her nerves. He leaned in and kissed her hair gently. It may not have been much, but it became a little easier to swallow after that.
It somehow got blurrier after that - she remembered being led off the boat, the dock shaky under her feet, and everything around her seemed to bright - the sun and the cameras and the reflections of cars passing. Cars, and buildings, and cameras, and the heavy uniforms of the guards who had taken her by each arm and led her into a separate car. She felt Jack's hand slip out of hers, and suddenly she was much more aware of the hollow in her stomach. There was yelling, questions and her name, somewhere lost in the din of the enclosing crowd, and she couldn't bring herself to look up when it sounded like Jack's voice echoing in her ears.
The car was hot, she remembered – sticky leather and the air conditioner blasting lukewarm air in her face and giant policemen on either side of her. As they rode to the hospital, trailing behind the limos slowly making their way down the avenue, and the muffled yelling of the crowds didn't seem any softer, and shadows of relief were tarnished with the shine of the police badges against her eyes. Kate tried to shield her eyes with her hand, but the policeman next to her clamped his hand over her wrist, cuffing her.
If the streets had been crowded, the hospital had been mobbed – Kate shook her head at the thought of the people milling about and pressing their faces against the glass, and once inside, everything seemed to gleam with intention to blind – white walls, white sheets, metal instruments, and the only thing that made it a little more bearable was overhearing Jack telling a nurse that he was a doctor, he didn't need tests ran, he needed to make sure the other survivors were okay. A smile almost crossed Kate's face as she remembered the nurse's soothing voice telling Jack to calm down, not to move, obviously thinking he must have hit his head awfully hard in the crash. Kate remembered Jack sliding off the bed at the other end of the room and making his way toward her the second the nurse had left the room. He met her eyes and touched her cheek and begged her to tell him if she was okay, if the police had hurt her, where they would take her, all questions she didn't have answers to, and he knew it. He'd leaned his forehead against hers, and she closed her eyes and breathed him in, his presence a comfort she had been accustomed to to ease her trembling, before he was gone once more, looking for Claire and her baby to make sure they were all right. Kate remembered smiling and thinking that was Jack; he always had to be the hero, always had to take care of everyone else, and she shrugged and shook her head when the nurse reappeared.
Kate glanced at the bedside clock; it was approaching ten 'o clock, and she was unsure whether or not the feeling draped across her shoulders was that of being tired, or simply being numb. She knew the Australian police had stationed two guards outside her door, and possibly on the whole floor, pretty much eliminating any chance of leaving to find Jack, not that she had any idea as to where he would be, anyway. She knew the castaways were all staying at the same hotel; stepping out onto her floor hours earlier she'd met Charlie on his way downstairs, and the look he gave her with the guards flanking her was one she wished had made her drop through the floor right then. It was a mix of hurt for not only himself, but pain she knew was reserved for her, for what she might be facing while he embarked on a new life with Claire and baby Grace.
Easing off the bed, she pulled the bedspread back and kicked it to the floor, curling up on the sheets and turning off the lamp beside her. The room faded into darkness, the only glow becoming the brightness of the city lighting up the skyline, muffled by the sheer lace curtains drifting across the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. She closed her eyes, the first tidings of sleep washing over her, but every few moments she opened her eyes, simply to assure herself the room and the bed and the balcony were all still there, and not just the island playing fateful tricks on her weary mind. Each time she looked, they were still surrounding her, the soft buzz of the air conditioner in the corner wilting into background noise, and she found her eyelids growing heavy once more. Holding the pillow tighter, she exhaled and tried to find the sleep she knew was lurking just outside her restless mind.
Just as sleep began to slip beneath her eyes and quiet the thoughts swirling across her head, her body giving up on relaxation and settling for a somewhat loosened tension, something stirred her – a sound nearby. Over the past few months, she had learned to awaken instantly to any noise out of the ordinary, a habit she knew she'd be hard-pressed to drop, and with a sigh she kicked off the covers, sliding out of bed. The sound persisted, a rapid knocking at the door, even as she switched on the bedside lamp, the darkness disappearing. The She unlocked the bolted door and opened it, and her mouth dropped as she saw the concerned face standing in the doorway, newly shaved and hands jammed in the pockets of a too-big sweatshirt.
She swallowed hard. "Jack."