Disclaimer: Since I'm not graying and sporting a suspicious-looking ponytail, it's safe to say that I'm not Stan Rogow and thus don't own Flight 29 Down

Disclaimer: Since I'm not graying and sporting a suspicious-looking ponytail, it's safe to say that I'm not Stan Rogow and thus don't own Flight 29 Down. I also don't own the characters of Jackson or Taylor; if I did, my muse might not tire out so frequently.

A/N: I didn't want to like Jackson and Taylor, I really didn't. I didn't want to like Taylor for that matter. I guess I can officially say this marks my descent to the dark side. This is just my take on a line from the promo for the season finale.

Don't Leave Home

Taylor's breathing was heavy as she broke through the tree line and came to a halt feet away from Jackson. She'd half-run, half-walked after him when he'd stormed off from the group's heated argument, leaving uproar in his wake. Anxiety and adrenaline sent blood racing through her extremities, and she struggled to catch her breath before moving to approach him. Her straying eyes settled on his feet, where the gently breaking waves were soaking the hem of his cargo pants. She debated whether or not to clear her throat and let him know she was there, then noticed his clenched jaw and realized it wasn't necessary. She forced herself to break the thick silence and speak.

"You scared me earlier," she admitted quietly. "Where did all of that come from?"

His hunched back was all the answer she received. Taylor risked a few steps forward, cautiously settling in next to him. She searched his face in an effort to dig below his firmly neutral expression.

"You should leave, Taylor." His voice was so soft that the sounds emanating from the jungle very nearly drowned it out.

Tears she hadn't expected burned the rims of her eyes. "Is this because of Melissa?" she asked, and hated the way her voice shook slightly. Taylor had always been able to avoid making herself vulnerable in front of guys. Of course, Jackson wasn't just any guy to her.

He let out a tired sigh. "This isn't about Melissa or Nathan or Daley or anyone else. This isn't even about you," he replied, gazing intently at the rising moon.

There had been a time when Taylor was used to missing Jackson's points, but now she deliberately chose to block out the connotation of his words. "Then what is it about? Look, I know I'm not as smart as Daley and I'm not as loyal as Nathan, and I – I know that you have feelings for Melissa, but don't just block me out. Let me listen, like you did for me."

"Don't play stupid with me, Taylor. You've know from the beginning that I don't fit in with the others," he said easily – too easily.

It rankled her that after all this time he could still retreat into his shell so swiftly, leaving her and everyone else on the outside with the impression he didn't care when in reality it was the exact opposite. "That's not true. Besides, what's so bad about not fitting in?" She gave him a sympathetic, slightly loopy smile. "I don't exactly fit the bill myself."

His muscles clenched for a moment, and she saw him fighting the affect of her words. He raked his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration and shook his head. "You know what I mean. You and Eric are almost always thinking the same thing, and even though she'd never admit it, Melissa cares about you. People don't know what to do with me. And to be honest, I don't really know what to do with you guys, either." His voice built in frustration as he talked until he finished at a volume just short of shouting.

For a blinding moment Taylor wished that she was Melissa; she would know exactly how to act, and what words would pull Jackson out of this mood he was in. She would be able to get through to him just by virtue of being her. Still, even if she couldn't say the right thing, even if she couldn't be what he needed, she had to at least try. "So that's it? You're just going to leave, like you talked about doing before? And, and what - turn out like Abby?"

The glance he sent her made her feel so stupid, so inadequate; so different from the feelings that he usually evoked in her. "You really don't get it, do you, Taylor? I was like Abby before I even stepped onto that plane. I may not go around shoving it in peoples' faces, but I have a past just the same as everyone else here. I don't work as a one-dimensional mystery character in this environment."

The more he talked the more frightened she became. If he had been furious, yelling in her face and shoving her away, she might have been able to deal with the situation better. Her father was like that. But having her pillar of strength dissolved to little more than a worn, scared teenager cancelled out every shred of security she had had on the island. "Nobody asked you to," she whispered. An area suspiciously close to her heart throbbed painfully.

Jackson's face was set, her words merely rolling off his back like water. "I'm going in the morning. I'll say that I'm going to look for the people Lex is convinced live on some other part of the island. Don't be surprised if I don't come back," he announced. He stood up abruptly and brushed the dampened sand from his pants with jerky hands.

"You can't do that!" Taylor shouted. She rose to her feet almost immediately, displaying some of her trademark assuredness for the first time that night. It felt good to be answering the demanding gleam in his eyes with her own expectations, and she held her chin high when he looked at her fiercely.

"What makes you think that you have any say in what I do, Taylor? It's not like there's something going on here," he spat out, using her words against her.

Taylor stiffened for a moment before meeting his eyes. She forced herself to take a deep breath before replying. "I'm your friend. Even if you don't want to admit it, even if it's just because of the situation we're in, I'm your friend. And friends don't just leave friends," she declared. Her own conviction surprised her. After all, friendship wasn't exactly her area of expertise.

None of that mattered now, though: not Melissa's silent treatment; not Daley's voting system; not Eric's latest temper tantrum. The only thing she cared about was getting Jackson to stay with her.

"I'm not good for you," he said quietly, some of the stubbornness leaving his eyes.

"Yes, you are." She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "We're kind of the same."

The ghost of a half-smile she had come to adore formed on his lips. "How do you figure that?"

"We both have the least promising futures waiting for us back home. I'm practically flunking out of tenth grade, my parents are always handing me off to the butler or the family attorney, and the closest I've ever come to having someone care about me is you. And that's going to change if we get rescued." The first tear slipped down her cheek; and awkwardly, slowly, he reached out and brushed it away with his thumb. "If we don't talk, it'll feel like forever. You've made me feel…" she bit her lip, searching frantically for the right word.

"… safe, I know," he interpreted.

She shook her head vigorously. "It's more than that. You've made me feel like me again. When I'm around you, I feel like a real person. And like maybe what everyone else thinks about me… isn't so important after all." His hand, she noticed, was still resting against her cheek. Its weight was warm and satisfyingly heavy.

"You're more than capable of being on your own," he comforted assuredly. "One of the things I've always loved about you is that you say what's on your mind without worrying what anyone else will think. And there's strength in you that no one else sees."

"But you see it," she argued softly. "I don't know if I ever would have evolved without you. People don't see any change as it is."

Jackson's smile slipped and he shrugged his shoulders halfheartedly. "You're the one who taught me that what people see isn't all that important anyway."

Taylor blinked rapidly. "I just don't see why this has to be goodbye. I'm not the only one that needs you. Melissa would be beside herself without you here, and Nathan and Daley's lovely little democracy would collapse without at least one voice of reason."

"It's isn't goodbye for good, Taylor. Just until I find my footing again. Besides, I have to write the rest of my song."

She couldn't quite hold her tears at bay any longer. "Will you let me hear it when you get back?" she questioned in a small voice. The question was disproportionately significant to her, as if in it she had hidden a hundred other more probing questions that she didn't have the words or courage to voice.

This time the smile reached his eyes. "I'll write a whole cello solo for you," he promised.

Resignation nearly bowled her over as she realized that all her attempts had been for nothing. Jackson was going one way or another – this really was goodbye.

His eyes skittered back toward the forest briefly before once again resting on her. He seemed preoccupied and guilty. "Look, I hate to ask, but do you think you could give me a head start? Just in case Nathan or Daley tries anything."

Taylor nodded briskly, hoping against hope that in the twilight he couldn't make out the tear tracks on her face. She watched without reservation as he settled into his backpack and carefully picked up his guitar, memorizing the lines of his body and the silhouette of his face and saving the picture in a back corner of her mind for later, lonelier nights.

She fixed her gaze on the setting sun, refusing to watch him leave. It looked like something stolen from a postcard, she noted, and wondered if paradise would start feeling like chaos once more.

Despite her position, every nerve in her body sensed the moment he stepped into the forest and left her behind. It was a physically addition to the weight on her back, a swift punch to the stomach. Her shoulders trembled and her lips turned down helplessly.

For the first time in months, Taylor allowed herself a good, long cry.

0-0-0

Taylor stumbled for what seemed like the hundredth time as she came into the clearing. She resolutely pushed away the handful of Jackson memories that she had always associated with the place, refusing to let herself cry again. She exhaled deeply as her tired muscles protested, the prospect of another quarter mile until camp suddenly seeming like an insurmountable distance. With trembling legs she made her way to the log she'd sat on during any number of encounters with him. Her fingers ran idly along the rough bark on the log's underside. Just as she was thinking of getting up she fingered a series of small, carved indentations. She frowned in concentration, fresh tears filling her eyes when she realized they were letters. Slowly, carefully she felt them out.

T,

You were right.

I'll let you know.

J

The words wrapped around her like a blanket, and for the first time that night she breathed easily. Like so many other cryptic Jackson messages, she didn't even need to wonder what he meant.

0-0-0

The fire was almost completely burnt out by the time she got back. Taylor hurried to pile on a few substantial pieces of kindling, not at all enjoying the prospect of having to start a new fire first thing in the morning. She could make out Nathan's soft snoring and Daley's incoherent, sleep-addled murmurs. The camp area that she'd come to view as home felt a little more hollow tonight.

It was still home, though, she reminded herself determinedly. Regardless of what Jackson had said, it was his home now, too. Her own insecurities and the words he'd spoken less than an hour ago battered her belief, but she close her eyes and focused instead on his calloused palm and the strange light that had filled his eyes when he fumbled to say goodbye.

For just a moment, she could almost swear that she heard guitar chords dancing in the night air.