A/N: This is going to be a series of letters from Kate to Jack, starting at some point in time a little before the episode "What Kate Did" so it will contain spoilers at least up to, and perhaps beyond, that point. Since Lost is one a LONG hiatus, this will forge ahead, past what's been seen so far. I really hope you enjoy it. I've got a couple more written, so let me know if you want me to continue it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. Not any of it. Seriously.

Dear Mr. Shepard,

I don't know why I'm writing this. I honestly don't. I mean, first of all, it's not like there's any postal service on the island or anything. And second, I would never give this to you. Never. I think it's part of the island dynamic: I'm Kate, you're Jack, and we'll never get together. We may skirt around each others' edges, probe each others' weaknesses, but we'll never just admit it. Whatever "it" is.

I don't know what "it" is for you, honestly, I don't even know what "it" is for me. But when I'm around you, there's this weird feeling of elation, fear, nerves, and an overwhelming urge to kiss you. Most people I guess would say that "it" is love. But for me, love is different.

I've been so many things - a daughter, a murderer (I know you're cringing right now), a girlfriend (does that make you cringe too?), a fugitive… I'm such a screwed up person that for me, I think love might be a little different than it is for everybody else. For other people, love is finding someone who cares about them, who understands them, and, or so I've heard, who makes fireworks go off and bells ring in their ears. But I'm Kate Austin, and for me, love is something else.

I thought I was in love for a while, with Tom. Have I ever told you about Tom? Well, we'll save that for another letter. The point is, that I thought I was in love. I was just a kid really, but he made my body sort of tingle, and he cared about me. He was my childhood sweetheart.

He's dead.

We won't go into details.

The point is, that the last time I thought I was in love, that was what happened. Death, heartbreak, tears. And looking back on it… With you, I feel different than I did with him.

So what's love for me?

I don't know.

I think that's part of why we can't get together, why we're destined to always carefully avoid each other's eyes (and each others' hearts- I know, corny, aren't I?). Because I don't know what love is. I wonder if you do.

And if I don't know what it is, how can I be in it? How can I be in love?

Jack, I'll let you know if I ever figure this whole thing out. Trust me, you'll know. But until then, I'll sign off, not with "love" but with… I don't know. Sincerity maybe?

Sincerely,

Kate

A/N: Well, tell me what you thought:) Please do review, constructive crit is welcomed.