Title- Home
Rating- T for safety
and because I'll probably need it
Ships- Jate, minor Skate,
hints at Jacket
Summary- My first Jate, so be nice. Set after
"Something Nice back home" Four months later, Jack and Kate meet
again, and try to work things out. Will things end up the same, or
has he royally screwed up for the last time? R&R, please!
"Fancy seeing you here," his voice startles her, but it shouldn't. She couldn't have possibly signed up for a job here without knowing that they would meet. Perhaps, that is exactly why she has come here. Her name is Katherine Austen, and she is a twenty-nine year old single 'mother', although her son isn't really her son at all. She is not especially tall, but she is certainly not short. Today her dark, curly hair is pulled back I a bun, and as her eyes find his they sparkle, green and yet somehow still cold.
She does not reply, so he continues. Not nosily or meanly, but he's not just curious. It is obvious they have a history.
"Are you a nurse?"
He knows she is not, because she's wearing a skirt. This is actually a long-standing inside joke between the two of them, because she is not a medically oriented person and they both know it.
He is about a head taller than her, has even darker, browner hair, and hazel eyes. He is in his scrubs and lab coat.
His name is Jack Shepherd. He is a thirty-one, having graduated medical school a year before his class.
"No," she replies, and shuffles some papers on the desk in front of her.
"I'm doctor Han's secretary."
He smiles, but she dose not look up. His face falls and then becomes serious, and he asks, "Are you doing alright?" She scribbles on a notepad and replies absently, "Sure." They fall into an uneasy silence.
Then, she raises her eyes to his and says icily, "I'm find. You don't have to worry about child support, Jack." He hesitates, and then replies softly, "I'm not worried about child support, Kate. I'm worried about you." She looks back down at the notepad.
"I'm fine. I miss you, but…"
she trails off, and this time the silence is melancholy.
"I
want you back home," she concludes, her eyes meeting his yet again,
this time softer and less reprimanding.
"But you were right," he says, "I have…problems… that I needed to fix. I didn't want to worry you or the baby."
"Jack, it's been four months."
He looks panicked for a moment, "Are
you seeing someone else?"
"No!" He relaxes visibly. She
continues, "I love you, you know that. I just don't understand."
This time it is him who breaks eye contact. "Listen," he says, "I have a meeting starting two minutes ago. I have to go. But let's meet at that café on LA Street tomorrow at lunch. Then we can talk." She nods, but he has already disappeared around the corner. I try not to chuckles to myself, not that she would hear me.
It was me who crashed their plane a year and two months ago.
It was me who caused them to meet.
It was my doing when they fell in love.
I was why he left her.
And I will be why they meet tomorrow for lunch.
You see, you know who I am, as does everybody on this godforsaken rock.
My name is Fate.