Hey folks! This is a quick one-shot from 'The Candidate' that explores Jack's thoughts from the moment Kate is shot to when he sees her again on the beach. I hate writing in first-person, so this is primarily Jack's POV in the third-person. This is for my good friend, the incomparable Yas, who requested that this be written. You are the best. I hope you like it!
Jack heard Kate cry out before he saw her go down, falling to the dock's floor with a yelp of surprise. He turned to where her body lay motionless, her face scrunched up in agony. Everything went dark. Reason shattered. Logic imploded. Destiny was meaningless to him at this point. It was the last thing he wanted to hear about, to think about.
"Kate?" he bellowed in shock.
He didn't wait for an answer before he turned to the shooters, determined to blow them all to hell from where he stood, pointing the rifle that he used to hoist the Smoke Monster into the water in their direction, pulling off round after deafening round.
He aimed and fired like a madman, possessed with a fury that only surged when what mattered most to him in the entire world hung in the balance between life and death. His own well-being was the farthest concern from his mind as he felt blazing hot bullets zip past him, missing him by mere inches. He threw his empty rifle to the ground and pulled the faster, more manageable handgun from his back pocket, spraying the nearby trees and bushes with all he had left. There weren't enough bullets to last him through his blind rage. After a few more shots, he threw the gun and ran to her side.
Kate tried to sit up against the steel tanks behind her, grunting against the stinging pain in her shoulder and like a haze of strength, she felt Jack lift her effortlessly from the ground. He held her close, closer than he had in what felt like years, and she wrapped her arm around his neck, as he headed for the submarine's door.
He forgot who else was shooting beside him. Claire? Sayid? He couldn't remember which one and he couldn't find the concentration to worry about them. He had to get Kate out of there, that's all he knew. He heard more bullets being fired as he handed her down to Sayid, lowering her into the submarine.
His reason for doing anything anymore was centered on her, as it always was, and in the circumstances, he forgot that he wasn't supposed to leave and he didn't care. Everything was moving so fast, and as he guided Kate through the short hallway that led to the main body of the sub, he found that the blood loss was moving just as fast, if not faster. He was growing more and more worried, more like frantic and, for the first time in a long time, he was scared.
He steadied her with a tight fold of his arms around her waist as she struggled to concentrate on walking. During the final few steps towards the rest of the group, she wrapped her arm back around his neck and shoulders, comforted by the feel of him pressed against her side. He was just as desperate for the closeness that she initiated when she didn't feel him at the tips of her fingers.
He didn't know where she was hit. Her shoulder, her arm, or worse, her chest. He realized that he'd stopped breathing awhile back, and finally took a ragged breath in and then anxiously blew it out, and still he couldn't find the will to remind himself to continue that cycle over and over again.
"Hurley, I need a first aid kit." He groaned, as he lowered Kate down onto an even surface.
It was then that he assessed the degree of her injury. Below her left shoulder. Clean shot. In and out. Blood everywhere. He'd seen thousands of gunshot wounds in his line of work, but with her blood all over, her eyes shut tightly in discomfort, he felt the ground quake beneath him.
He stumbled back from hovering over her, closed his eyes and whispered religiously, with as much focus as he could. One…Two... Three… Four… Five. He opened his eyes, fixed them on nothing in particular and discovered and maintained a tight hold on his fear, because she needed him to be him right now. In control. In action. If it were anyone else, his hands wouldn't be shaking; his palms wouldn't be slick with sweat, and his eyes wouldn't be blurred with the tears that threatened to choke him if he lost her. He quickly blinked them away.
He suddenly felt the glide of the submarine as it began to descend into deep waters, snapping him out of his daze. He ran to the door of the hallway, demanding to know what was going on. Sawyer told him that they were leaving, executing the reminder of his plan. This was what Jack knew would happen, so he brought back the bout of exasperation that bubbled to the surface. He chose to get on that sub and he didn't regret it.
He had to get back to her, so he moved back to where she lay, trying to rise to inspect the group, to see if anyone else had been hurt, but mostly, to see if Claire had made it. He moved in on her again, hovering, sensing the conflict brewing in her wild green orbs, burnished with suffering, before she even spoke.
She asked about Claire, where she was. He hated what he had to say next, that she was still up on the dock, left behind again. She moved against the big, strong hands that covered her shoulders, her face inches from his, determined to go back for her. She saw the adamant glint in his eyes. He would never let her back up there, not after what happened to her. She could barely see straight, the pain was so unbearable.
Her ragged breath brushed against his cheek as he lightly urged her to lie back down, his hands soothing, moving up and down her upper arms. When Hurley announced that he couldn't find a first-aid kit, his head fell in frustrated defeat. The news only made his fear stronger, more aggressive, but he pushed it down where Kate couldn't read it as she kept her eyes fixed on him and only him. He needed something clean, sterile to apply to her wound, afraid that it would get infected otherwise. She pressed her fingers into the flesh of his shoulder, groaning his name in a plea for him to do something, anything.
"Jin. My pack. There might be a shirt in there I can use for pressure."
He looked down at her and, for the first time, saw just how petrified she was, not for finding Claire, not for anyone else, but for herself, for what would happen to her. Her sobs were more frequent. She was breathless, sweaty, trembling and boring holes into him, her eyes never leaving his, never breaking the connection they always engaged in, with any situation. She was everything to him and she was looking back at him with just as much commitment and vulnerability. He lost himself, and strained to speak over the huge lump that suddenly formed in his throat.
"It's okay, baby. Just relax. Everything's gonna be alright." He said with all the confidence he could find, as his heart crumbled in his chest.
She nodded emphatically, the unrelenting trust she had in him and what he could do her only hope for survival.
He moved towards his bag, anxious to get to the clean shirt he'd thrown in there when he left the beach, before she lost any more blood. He suddenly stopped, eyebrows twitching in confusion as he gingerly pulled the make-shift apparatus out of his bag. His mind raced against the watch that kept the time that remained until the bomb was set to detonate. Less than four minutes.
His blood pumped harder, against a heart that was already cracked by the nervousness shown in the eyes of the woman he loved more than life itself. He moved from Kate's side to place the bomb on a nearby surface, demanding that the sub was brought back to the surface. He kept one ear focused on Sayid, Sawyer and Jin, while a large portion of his concentration still landed on Kate, who stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, still in shock and in even more pain.
He stayed engaged in the conversation while moving back to her side and placing his backpack underneath her head, in a hopeless, instinctual attempt to make her more comfortable, to take care of her, but more desperate to get her out of these dangerous circumstances. He finally took the shirt and started applying pressure to her wound as he spoke over his shoulder. His mind steadily reeled from the situation the people he'd come to care a great deal about, people he loved like family, were put into.
Jack started to think, about what the Smoke Monster told him, what Jacob wanted him to see in that lighthouse, why they were Candidates, what purpose Candidates served, what it all meant, and mostly, why the Smoke Monster wanted them off the Island so badly and so desperately as to spook them with a bomb that wasn't set to blow the moment the submarine went under. He finally got it. He wanted them to panic, to commit suicide by rigging the device to detonate if they tampered with it, if they made any attempts to stop the timer. It was the only way he could win.
The stinging dig of Kate's blunt fingernails into his forearm was more than enough to thrust him through to clear thinking, to putting the pieces together quickly.
He explained the game, what the Smoke Monster had plotted and planned, what he couldn't do, and what he wanted them to think he could do. He argued the point to let the timer count down to zero, that nothing was going to happen. He knew James wouldn't understand, he practically counted on it when he spoke up against him, but still, if they were going to make it through this, he had to get through to him that pulling the wire would make matters worse.
He realized long ago that James was in a dark place, a sadness and regret that Jack hoped he never had to experience ate at him, affected every decision he made. Losing the love of his life would destroy him, he knew that much. What it had done to James, watching the woman he loved fade away in his arms, under his watchful gaze, it was all too real how dangerously close he was to that type of devastation himself, as Kate lay next to him, one hand balled in a fist on his leg, the fabric of his jeans caught in her fingers and the other hand still wrapped around his forearm, clinging to all she knew.
As one hand continued to apply pressure to Kate's wound, he grabbed a handful of James' collar with the other, hoping to get back what he knew he'd already lost, the trust James once had for him. He rebelled insistently, turned and pulled the wire. Jack, disappointed, truly realized the depth of faithlessness his friend had in him. It was crushing, but not as pressing as the distressing sight of the timer accelerating, doubling in tempo as it blared erratically, decreasing any hope of escape.
Everyone stepped back in flustered astonishment. He then felt her hand take his from the bloody shirt that pressed over her wound. She intimately fit their palms together, her fingers cradled perfectly between his. Somehow, even in her state, she knew what was about to happen and that he needed to feel her sign of love and support. He closed his fingers over her hand, thankful that if it ended this way, they would end it together.
His vision blurred in disbelief. There was nothing he could do now. It would soon be over.
As he watched the timer tick down to its final minute, Sayid started to talk to him quickly, as if he was ready to dash away once he was finished. A well. Desmond. You're going to need him.
That's all he heard before he asked, "Why are you telling me this?"
It's going to be you, Jack. Then he was gone, with the bomb.
He woke up to alarm sounds and bright red lights, on the floor, disoriented, water crashing around him from every direction. He soon got his bearings, struggling to stand against the heaviness of the water and his wet clothing, and dimly heard the cries and garbled attempts to breathe from the rest of the group. His concern intensified, burning a hole through his chest. Kate. He stood upright, hurriedly splashing around the water, reaching to the floor, calling her name, but unable to hear anything beyond the overpowering screeches of the alarm.
The water was rising exponentially, and then he saw her foot and jean-clad behind bobbing in the tide. He grunted a sigh of relief as he bent to pull her into him, her coughs and groans the only thing he now heard. He pulled her up until her thighs brushed against his waist. Their legs mingled as she braced her arm around his neck and shoulders while she buried herself into the safety of his chest. Her cheek rested against his as she struggled to catch her breath.
Water sprinkled around them like rain as his arms folded around her, melding her against him. He had to get her out of there, even if he couldn't go with her.
"Hurley! Hurley!" He called.
He was there in a matter of seconds, as perplexed and surprised as anyone over what Sayid just did.
"You gotta take Kate out of here."
Jack yanked the emergency air-cylinder from the wall, and handed it to Hurley. He gave him instructions on how to get out, and saw the confused and unsettled glaze of his eyes. It hurt him that he couldn't stop the charge of the moment to reassure his friend that everything would be okay. He insisted that he could do this and Hurley took strength from his friend's faith, agreed and labored the task of pulling Kate with him towards the blast hole.
He fell to the slothful sand, laying an unconscious Sawyer on his back. He checked for breaths, relieved to hear him cough and stammer. He leaned his arm against Sawyer's chest and wondered where Hurley had taken Kate, looking around for any sign of them. Sand and night-blue sky was all he could make out. He sat there for a second; his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, eyes squinted against the drops of water that fell from his brow. He heard movement nearby and looked over to inspect.
When he saw her, stumbling towards him with Hurley holding her up, his world stopped spinning out of orbit and found its anchor again. He dropped his head in evident relief, his heart sunk from the tightness of his throat and he felt his lungs collapse as he released the breath he didn't even know he was holding. She was okay.
He felt her collapse into the sand in front of him and he was already reaching, grasping, and urging her closer, as if she needed to be urged. She crawled tiredly into the space that his open arm motioned for her to fill in. She fit perfectly against him, like they both knew she would.
"Jack... I couldn't find you…I couldn't find you." She sobbed, her voice soon muffled by the skin of his neck, the side of her head resting calmly against his shoulder.
Not surprisingly, he was thinking the exact same thing about her, as elation like nothing he had ever experienced welled within his veins.
She found so much solace in his embrace that the nightmare she just went through felt like someone's dreadful imagination. He sighed into her shoulder, her damp curls cold against his cheek, her scent still faint against her skin. He pulled her even closer and simultaneously felt the bitter darkness surrounding him crack to reveal warm, dazzling light.
Thanks for reading!