This is my first long fan fiction, so I hope it goes well! Reviews would be lovely. Thanks for reading :)

Chapter 1

The brute force of the airplane's take-off mixed with the delirious overflow of ecstasy and remorse present since finally leaving the island caused her eyes to shut. She was already crying, for god knows what reason, but the reality of this situation sent a brand new waterfall of tears down her face.

In less than a day, this group had experienced more chaos, heartbreak, and relief than they probably had in the the last three years. Had it really been three years since the crash? Three years since Sawyer and Claire had lived in the real world? Three years.

It had just dawned on Kate that she actually had no idea what Miles or Richard had to go home to. If they had family worried about them. If they yearned for comfort and safety as she did.

Home. What did she have in the complicated reality back in Los Angeles. Loneliness? A reputation as a fugitive? A vacant house, save for the flood of children's toys. And Aaron's room. My god did she miss Aaron. He was Claire's son, not hers. But for three long years she was his Mom. She took care of him when he was sick, played with him during the day, taught him how to talk, and educated him on what was right and what was wrong. She raised him through the crucial years of child development. He was the something good she'd always wanted. An actual human being that was pure because of what she had done. But he wasn't hers to raise anymore. And she would have to accept that. Deep down she knew she was never fit to be a mother. If she couldn't take care of herself for twenty some years, how on god's green earth could she care for a little boy for as long as she did? She chalked it up to dumb luck.

Next to Kate sat a grubby and grimy looking Claire. She slowly took her lucid blue eyes off of the view from her window, landing them on Kate's clearly distressed face. "Kate, are you okay?"

The light, concerned sound of Claire's voice snapped her back into the moment. 'Claire'. The name rang unwelcomely and almost hauntingly in her ears. She suppressed a shiver. Claire was the real mother of Aaron. Aaron was going back into the hands of his true guardian. A better guardian. She attempted a nonchalant reply.

"Um…what?" She mentally kicked herself for such an idiotic response. Could she not think of anyone but herself?

Claire began speaking right away, which reassured Kate that she didn't sound guilty of spending the last few moments mourning her loss of Aaron.

"Are you okay?" she repeated, "Because you don't look so good. I mean, I understand why you where crying and all because frankly I still feel like I am too…I mean who wouldn't be." She paused for a moment, looking longingly into the space in front of her face. A flicker of ferocity in her eyes startled Kate. "But, I don't know" she began again, "you seem" she drew her breath in nervously, "..a little off. I haven't really seen you this way before," she finished, her eyebrows meeting in a concerning line atop her dirt caked forehead.

"Umm….yeah….I'm fine." She clearly avoided making eye contact. The air between them felt suddenly stifled. Claire shifted in her seat nervously.

Kate pretended not to notice and sat in a stiffened position, hoping for the illusion of collectedness and normalcy. She honestly didn't want Claire to feel any more unsure of seeing Aaron again, resulting in her swiftly standing up and searching for a new seat. Sure it was rude, but she didn't want to burden Claire further, when she was probably terrified of seeing Aaron again after all these years. She was shutting down any earlier emotions, subconsciously tossing them from her mind. Moving with purpose she crossed the isle and plunked down next to James.

Running from conflict as usual. Three years had gone by, and old habits were already manifesting. Figures.

James acknowledged her presence with a slight nod of the head. She let out an angry sigh. He didn't really know what to say. He had just seen Kate profess her love to Jack in a tearful parting, gotten everyone on the plane before the damn island sunk, and now here they were. Sitting in an airplane headed to LA. God, was she hard to read. Was she thinking about Jack? Jack. Everything had gotten complicated since the Doc just had to be the hero and bring everyone back to the island. Why did Locke plant that idea in his head? Why couldn't he just be happy in the real world? He slumped down, agitated at the open ended situation. He decided not to think about that right now.

Thinking about the island would only make him think about her. And he would have none of that. Not yet.

He looked back at at the seat next to him. Her stare gave absolutely no indication of what was going on in her mind, except that she was obviously distraught. Who was it that said eyes were the window to the soul? What a load a' crap.

Before, he could usually look at her and know what was going on. Or at least have some general idea. He knew her in a way he hadn't really known anyone before the island. But three years is a long time. And Kate was a different Kate. Her green-flecked eyes were but a mystery. He was unfamiliar with the curves on her face. Her nose, her chin, her cheeks were now un-searched territory. Almost like a stranger's face, he thought. Like someone you meet and have an odd inkling that you've seen them before.

But those dang freckles didn't seem to elude him, he had to admit.

But it was the same for him. He was different too. He wasn't as sleazy or manipulative like before. He didn't haggle over his youth like he so desperately clung too in the past. He wasn't impulsive like before. He thought before he acted. Okay, that might be a stretch, but he wasn't that stubborn boy trapped inside a con man anymore. Three years could do wonders. But deep down he knew it was more than just the time passage that changed him. It was the woman he loved who had the power to sway him in such major ways.

His stomach clenched as the memories flashed by. They popped up like painful blows, one moment after another.

The time they moved all of her stuff into his little Dharma house like they where college roommates. He was actually tentative of scaring her off back then.

The time she convinced him that a beachside picnic was the perfect idea, and it was. That afternoon shad began with lustful gazes and ended with the two of them sprawled on the ground haphazardly, sweaty and covered in gritty sand.

The night he cooked for her and she attempted to suppress laughter as she politely gnawed on his overcooked steak. Though he couldn't chew through the rubbery meat, he stood by his meal. Once she failed at keeping her amusement at bay, he finally gave in and joined her in laughter. They ate frozen meals and read like an old married couple. Until she interrupted him with a long, passionate and lingering kiss that led to a beautiful night.

Or even the simple times when they got ready for work in the morning and exchanged playful banter and encouraging words for the day ahead. They'd peck each other on the cheek and part ways. He's watch her every move as if he would never see her perform them again.

My god this was like some torturous montage creating excruciating pain. Tears where gathering in the spot behind his stormy eyes. He hated this. He couldn't let this get to him. As he brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, he was distracted by Kate's voice.

"So," something was wrong, she could tell, but she sporadically decided to let it go. "what are you going to do once we land?" Damn. Like that was any better. God she hated herself sometimes.

"Well, I'll probably flag down my limo driver and kick back 'till we reach my modern mansion and have a fancy-ass glass of vodka" he replied bitterly.

"Ha ha." she mused, suppressing a small smile. This was the James Ford she remembered.

"Well? What the hell are your plans?"

Her face changed slightly, in such a small fashion that only a few people could even tell anything had changed. She sighed forlornly and turned away.

"I don't even have a plan," she whispered, forcing a sarcastic laugh. James Ford was no fool. She was upset, he knew that for sure. Now he had insight into the actual problem. Finally, something familiar. He knew how she worked when it came to lying.

If only he could help. But his mind was too busy for that.