Title: Blindfolded Reality
Summary: Set sometime in S3. Sawyer and Kate return to the beach camp, but the rescue mission to get Jack fails.
Nights on the island had always been scary, gloomy and sinister, with the Smoke Monster howling in the jungle and the dark ocean thrashing heavy, angry waves one the beach. But ever since they returned from their mission to rescue Jack, ever since they returned without Jack, nights seemed to get even scarier. Somehow, they grew even darker, the Smoke Monster sounded closer to camp than he ever did before and the water grew angrier. She thought maybe it was. Maybe the island was angry at them, at her, for failing Jack. He would have never gave up on one of them, but somehow, they did. They just stopped looking for him and went on with their lives. Live together, die alone. That was Jack's motto from day one, and she had hoped that belief permeated with everyone else, but she was wrong.
She was just as bad as everyone else. She did attempt to go out on her solo rescue missions a few times but she also returned without finding a trace of him, of any of them. It was as though the Others never even existed on the island. It was on nights such as this, after spending days alone on the beach, and nights spent without sleep, sitting outside the tent, staring back at the ocean, daring it come closer, that her mind started playing tricks on her. Maybe The Others never existed, maybe it had all been a figment of her imagination... The island was a crazy place, after all, it could have been her mind playing tricks on her all that time. Maybe none of what she thought had happened actually happened.
Maybe Jack never existed in the first place.
A cold shudder ran through her spine at that thought. A whimper escaped her lips that she would even consider. But the rest of the survivors had been acting like it was true, never mentioning his name, never talking about him or remembering him.
But she knew the truth, of course she did. She still remembers everything, every single detail of it, from the standard black stitches, to how to count to five, from golf tournaments and firelight dinners to running from smoke monsters and blowing up hatches. She remembered just how soft and warm his lips felt against hers.
The cold wind drove past her quickly, fighting against the small fire she had built, her only source of light and warmth in the ominous night. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself, pulling the shirt closer to her body. It was one of his shirts that she wore. It had become a habit of hers, wearing his shirts, spending her time in his tent, clinging to anything that was his, anything that proved that he once lived amongst them. She wore his shirts every evening, when she was sure the others had gone to bed. She would wrap it around her body tightly, searching for his smell in the fabric. It was her lifeline, holding onto him in the few ways she knew how.
She pulled her legs against her chest, resting her cheek against her knees. She looked away from camp, away from the few small fires scattered along the beach and towards the tree line, where the heavy tangled foliage met the bare golden sands. She sat silently, listening to the occasional crash of waves and the faint murmurs of horror from the depths of the jungle. Neither scared her anymore. Where these horrific elements used to plant fear inside her months ago, she had developed immunity, instead, that fear was replaced by a larger one. That she might never see Jack again.
She swallowed, fighting against the tear provoking thought and focusing on the swaying branches along the tree line. She had spent most of her time in this spot the last few months. She left to fulfill her chores; picking fruits, helping in the kitchen, collecting fire wood. She avoided interacting with the others as best as she could. She occasionally talked with Claire and Sun, mostly when they initiated conversation or came to sit next to her, but for the most part she kept to herself. She missed those friendships, the carefree afternoons playing poker with Hurley and Sawyer or babysitting Aaron while Claire and Charlie took off for a picnic. But for the most part, she missed Jack more.
She was drowning in those memories, her mind sailing miles away, she failed to hear the footsteps reaching her side. And when he spoke, his voice ringing through the heavy silence of the night, she jumped back, completely startled.
"I think this shirt is mine," he said.
She gasped, utterly shocked and whispered, her voice hoarse and shaking, "Jack?".
So anyone interested in reading the rest? I've got 2 or 3 chapters for this, just let me know