A/N: Post-"The End". Implied Jack/Kate and James/Juliet. I like to think James and Kate stayed friends, since so much happened between them and around them on the island.
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They meet for lunch.
It's become a tradition whenever James visits Los Angeles. Kate never knows exactly when it will happen, but one day he'll call and say he just touched down at LAX, would she wanna grab lunch tomorrow? Of course she says yes, and neither of them mention inviting Claire and Aaron or whoever else of their Ajira companions is around at that point.
This is something they both feel they need to do just the two of them. James always makes sure to stop by the house and see the Littletons before he leaves again anyway, hugging Claire tight and lifting Aaron into the air until the boy gets too big and likes high-fives instead.
It's been a while since the last time he's passed through, a longer interval than ever before, but then again each passing day brings them all farther from their time on the island, and sometimes Kate wonders if it all was a dream. But then she'll get a call from a sobbing Claire in the middle of night, and through her tears she pleads with Kate to explain what happened to her, why she abandoned her baby, why they were the ones who made it home when so many others did not.
(Kate is on intimate terms with that last question: she wrestles with her survivor's guilt every day, and sometimes the pain is so much that she has to go into the bathroom at work and crouch in the corner and cry until someone bangs on the door asking if she's all right.)
She meets James at their usual lunch spot, a little diner on the outskirts of the city. He grins when she walks in, already sitting at their table, stands when she approaches, brings her in for a fleeting hug. This is the only time they touch anymore: their brief hello and goodbye embraces. There is too much history between them to get any closer more often, too much death and regret.
"How's Clementine?" Kate asks after they've ordered, already discussed the weather and his flight.
(Kate doesn't know how he can stand to fly anymore, has sworn off traveling by air herself.)
"Swell," James drawls, his face lighting up at the talk of his daughter. "Just got her grades back; A's and B's. I don't know where she got her smarts from, it sure wasn't her daddy." His self-deprecation is breezy, but it lacks the playfulness he used to have. "How's Aaron?"
This is how their conversations always go. Talk about the achievements of Clementine, then Aaron. Safe topics that don't cause as much pain as anything else they could discuss.
"He's great," Kate replies with a smile, even as her heart sinks. Years later and it is still difficult to accept that he is not her son, though she cannot help but speak of him like a proud parent. She is no longer Mommy to him, just Kate. "He's started taking piano lessons. He begged Claire for months, and we found this amazing older woman, she's played all over the world."
James is smirking. "Guess he takes after–" he begins to say, but stops, suddenly looks like a terrified child who swore in front of grandma on Christmas.
They almost never talk about what – who – they lost on the island, even though Kate knows James goes to Miami a few times a year to visit Rachel and Julian Carlson. Even though they both know Kate is so invested in Claire and Aaron not just because she loves them, but because they are her connection to the Shepherd family.
It would be easy to reroute the conversation like they usually do when these types of situations happen, and it would probably make them both feel better to pretend everything is fine, that neither of them have gaping holes in their lives where lost people should be.
(Kate keeps a box of photographs in her closet. Late at night when she can't sleep, she gently studies each picture, running her hand across the face she wishes she could touch again.)
The food comes amidst their seemingly endless silence. Kate picks at her fries while James half-heartedly takes a bite of his sandwich.
"Do you think we'll ever stop missing them this much?" she wonders quietly, staring at her plate.
James' brows knit together, and after he swallows his food he sighs. This is uncharted lunch date territory. "Honestly?" he finally says. "I don't think so. I think we'll just learn to live with it, eventually. Ain't that what we've been tryin' to do since we left?"
"I guess so." Kate meets his gaze; sure her eyes match the haunted glaze over his. She throws caution to the wind, breaks the mold: "Juliet was an amazing woman, James."
(Kate hopes he hears the other words behind that statement, the millions of I'm so sorrys, because blood is on her hands.)
He looks down, runs his fingers through his blonde hair, probably composing himself. After a minute of Kate regretting her words, his chin tilts up and he stares right at her. "And the Doc was a great man, Freckles," he says sincerely, such a different man from the one she first met so long ago. "Better than me. Hell, probably better than anyone else."
(He hasn't called her Freckles in what seems like forever, and she looks at this as the beginning of a new chapter.)
"It must be punishment," she explains after another lengthy pause. "For what we did before. All those bad things."
James sits back, tilts his head, considers. "That well may be, Kate. But Jack… and—" He closes his eyes for a moment. "And Juliet… well, they were probably the best things ever happened to me or you."
He's right. Kate contemplates him from across the table. "You're such a grown up, James."
"You can thank Juliet for that," he replies, the hint of a smile on his face. He is back in the three years they spent in the Initiative, Kate knows, probably remembering the days he and Juliet spent in love, maybe imagining if he'd had a chance to put the ring on her finger.
Kate isn't sure she can handle much more chat about their respective late loves today. She thinks maybe she'll make an effort to talk about Jack more with his half-sister and nephew.
"We should do this again soon," she says, the sentiment she always offers at the end of their lunches, except this time the words mean so much more.
(We should talk about them more, remember them more, reminisce, tell stories, explain, she wants to say, if only she had the courage. If only she had Jack's courage.)
James seems to feel the same, she can tell by his expression. "I'll be in town a few more days," he informs her. "Maybe we can get lunch again 'fore I go."
Kate smiles. "I'd like that, James."
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