One...Two...Three...Four...Five
I open my eyes to survey the damage.
A broken glass.
He broke a glass once. We hired a babysitter and got all dressed up and went out spent an obscene amount of money on a fantastic dinner. I hadn't feasted like this in years. It was like the day we took the food from the hatch, except that this was professionally prepared and it was expensive and it wasn't DHARMA and I have to stop letting everything remind me of the island. But when the young blonde waitress made me think of Claire I ordered a bottle of wine. Jack raised his eyebrows at me but didn't object. We drained the bottle and almost ordered a second until we remembered one of us would have to drive home. So we left the restaurant a little tipsy but not helplessly drunk. I didn't know what that was like yet.
He fumbled with his keys at the door.
"Come on, it's freezing!" I complained, rubbing my bare shoulders. It wasn't even that cold, but it was colder then the island.
"I'm trying..." he was jiggling it in the lock.
"Here let me," I reached for it and it fell to the floor and we both started laughing. I hadn't had this much to drink in a while.
"Now look what you did."
"Me?" I exclaimed. We both reached for it and that had us laughing again. I snatched it before he had a chance and had the door open in a matter of seconds. I smirked at him.
"Show off," he murmured. Then he grabbed my wrist and captured my lips with his. We stumbled into the kitchen and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He backed me into the counter and when he went to lift me on he knocked over a glass of water I left out from lunch.
"Shit," he muttered against my lips.
"We'll get it later." I didn't expect him to listen to me, but he did. He left the glass shattered on the floor and forgotten until morning.
A shard of glass wedged into my palm.
There was one day that we were alone. Just the two of us. No snarky remarks from Sawyer, no instructions from Sayid. We knew the jungle so well at that point that we weren't afraid. Although maybe we should have been, it was so unpredictable. But we walked in a compatible silence, not looking out for polar bears or traps or any Others that may have been hiding behind the trees. It was so nice, so calm, that it was almost easy to forget where we were.
I was getting out my canteen when my foot got caught in a root and I slammed into the ground.
I made a noise that wasn't quite a scream as I felt the impact. I lifted my hand to see an arrow head jammed in my skin.
"You alright?" Jack turned to me.
"Yeah it's just..." I began to pull on it but the pain made me stop short. "A piece of Rousseau's trap, I guess."
"Let me see." He knelt in front of me and gently grabbed my injured hand. "It's not too deep. I'm just going to have to..." He moved his fingers around the piece of metal, trying to find the least painful way to get it out.
"Alright, I'm going to have to pull it out."
I nodded and braced myself.
One, two, three, four, five.
"You ready?"
"Just do it."
"Okay. One...two...three." He ripped it out fast and I sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. I could feel the blood pooling in my hand. Jack tore off a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around the cut. "When we get back to camp I'll give you something to make sure it doesn't get infected," he ensured me as he works.
"Thanks." My voice was strained. He looked up at me.
"It could be worse," he smiled. "We could be in a net."
I laughed and he chuckled along with me. "There we go," he said and held up his work. The blood was seeping through the fabric quickly, but it certainly looked better than before.
"Thanks," I said again.
He held onto my hand much longer than necessary. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine." He was still holding on and I was going to kiss him when he let his hand fall to his side. "Well," he stood. "We should probably get going."
"Yeah," I agreed, although I barely even remembered the reason behind this trek through the juggle. I stood up and followed him anyway, letting myself drag a few feet behind.
Blood.
It was that first day. "Excuse me," he had called so calmly and casually he might as well have been asking for the time. "Did you ever use a needle?"
I stared at him, uncomprehending. What did that matter? I was still rubbing my wrists. It was easy getting those handcuffs off. I took a step toward him. "What?"
"Did you ever patch a pair of jeans?"
I still didn't understand how this was necessary information, but I told him about the drapes I made and he said that was fantastic and he asked me for help.
"With what?"
He turned sideways so that his bloodied back filled my view. I closed my eyes as he explained that he was a doctor and that he would do it himself but he couldn't reach. I rambled on about how I couldn't do it; he couldn't actually be expecting me to sew up his back. But he was and he told me I'd be fine. So I did it. With him talking me through it the whole way, I sewed up his back.
The blood flows from the gash and runs down my arm, staining my white shirt. I've seen so much blood before. I'm immune to it. I don't even turn away. I just stare at it. The shard of glass, the trails of blood. They remind me of Jack. Everything reminds me of Jack. It can't be healthy, but I don't want it to end. I don't mind the blood, because it brings back memories of him.
"Kate! Kate!" I hear her running down the stares. "Kate, are you alright? I heard something fall...oh my God." Claire stands in the doorway, taking in the mess.
"I-I dropped a glass." I stare mesmerized at the blood. Where is Jack? Where is Jack to sew me up and wrap a piece of his shirt around my hand?
"Okay, I'm getting you to a hospital." Her voice is shaking. She isn't as calm as Jack would be. She calls up her mom to come watch Aaron and guides me into the car. She hands me a towel. "Put pressure on it." I'm not sure if we're supposed to take the glass out first and neither is she, so I don't do anything. The doctors will figure it out.
Jack would know...
They take me into a room and let Claire inside, but it's all wrong because Jack is supposed to be stitching me up, not this skinny blonde resident. He isn't even doing it right. He's not talking. He's not joking are reminding me about onetwothreefourfive.
So I close my eyes and imagine he's here.
One...Two...Three...Four...Five
I imagine that those are his hands brushing against my skin. I let his voice fill the room. I need him here right now. I need him.
So I keep my eyes closed tight even after the blond doctor tells me I'm done. Even after Claire calls my name and nudges my shoulder. I don't open my eyes.
I can't.
Because as soon as I do, he'll be gone.