Disclaimer: Lost is owned by ABC Television and was created by Jeffrey Lieber, J. J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof. I don't own it but I love it.
"We were not making love, we did not even kiss, but the inexplicable intimacy we shared left us wordlessly and hopelessly locked into each other's gaze." -Jasmine Dubroff
Kate was energized, anticipating spending the next few hours with Jack. Granted Charlie and Locke were coming, but she enjoyed time with the doctor, the closeness when walking near him, watching his tall figure and broad shoulders as he walked ahead, how he would turn to hold up or pull back branches for her or lend a hand when they had to climb over something. It was also how their hands felt when they touched. The electricity that flowed between them. They had been bantering more back and forth lately when together, flirting, putting aside some of the serious talk. Her feelings for him had been growing deeper, the attraction keeping pace.
She couldn't name it. There was something about him, them, like she knew him already even though she didn't prior to two weeks ago. She didn't know anybody like him, ever. It puzzled her and occupied her thoughts. She had plenty of time to think. Early every morning, she gathered piles of fresh fruit for the camp, making trip after trip alone with her thoughts.
She felt the same from him but some kind fear or hesitation on his part. She was getting to know him more. She had originally felt he was the type that would want to make the first move, be the one to lead the dance. She was good at reading people. He was their de-facto leader as well as only doctor. He wanted being in control and know everything. Now she was second guessing herself, wondering if she was wrong. Was he waiting for her permission? Was he hiding hurt and insecurity? There was a sensitive person underneath the authoritative and sometimes loud voice.
There were not a lot of opportunities for privacy with their fellow survivors walking around or looking for the doctor, especially the hypochondriacs and random rashes.
Kate knew plenty of places to spend quality time to talk, mentally and emotionally connect, to kiss, explore each other however they pleased, especially if he wanted to go on a fruit run with her. She had to go deeper and deeper alone into the jungle to find unpicked fruit, higher on trees beyond the reach of people who couldn't scale them the way she could. The nearby fruit was picked off by the other castaways.
She wouldn't mind an extra set of hands, and arms for that matter. She would settle for making out with him, just to taste his mouth, skin, and feel that spark that only they could generate together.
It had only been two weeks since the crash, but a lot had happened with the camp, in their core group, between them. Sometimes they disagreed, most times they got along. Sometimes it was a big clash, sometimes minor.
They were always drawn back together like two magnets, no matter what happened. Their chemistry and relationship only grew stronger when they reconnected and found peace after. There was a sense that things weren't right until they did.
Kate loaded her backpack full of empty bottles and zipped it. Jack sat still, facing the beach, struggling with the twisted straps of his and still hadn't filled his pack. She leaned in close to him to help, still trying to get an answer out of him. He accused her of having secrets. She did, many of them, some that he had learned.
He had some of his own. Everybody did. It was a matter of peeling back the layers of each other. He was working on hers, sometimes roughly, but maybe it was necessary with the hardened shell she built up. She was working on his. It was a matter of trust.
He bent over low because of her short stature so she could reach to stuff empty bottles in his bag. She stuffed as many as she could and came around to the front of him, leaning down. She continued the conversation they had been having for the past half-hour while collecting those same empty bottles from the entire camp. They really needed to make an area or makeshift bin so she didn't feel like a recycling collector for Oceanic plastic.
"I want to know." She said playfully. She leaned in closer to help him, but level with his face. His eyes were diverted by looking at her face, her body, her shirt which gapped as she bent down in front of him.
"Well you're not gonna know." His expression was amused as he looked at her, holding up his hands and lower arms and sitting patiently as she took over the straps he was wrestling with, waiting to see what she would do.
She untangled them easily. Before she clipped his bag, she reached for a strap clip and let her finger graze the tattoo she was so curious about. It left a trail of goosebumps on his upper arm. She could feel the tension and electricity between them. His breathing increased slightly and eyes dilated as hers did as their eyes locked, even though it was morning and people were just yards away. She didn't move, just held onto the moment, the few seconds, sharing it with him while she could.
That's nothing, she wanted to say to him. Come away with me to the grove…
"What's the big deal?" She focused on his straps but wasn't going to give up.
"It's not a big deal. I just have my reasons and I don't want to put it out there." He gave off no hint of being tired or irritated at her lighthearted badgering. He answered in an easy, matter-of-fact tone.
"It's just that you and those tattoos don't add up." Her eyes twinkled and looked at him with a little sass. "What are you, one of those hard-core spinal surgeons?" She got a surprised smile and laugh out of him. She knew he hadn't heard that before.
He seemed to be enjoying it all, the conversation, the physical closeness, she watched him try to breathe in her scent discreetly when her head and hair were close.
"Yeah, that's me. Hardcore." It came out with amusement, slight irony, but she could hear the small amount of want in it, so subtle. Only she could see it on his face and catch it in his tone when put together. She saw his struggle because she was looking into his light brown eyes with the vivid brown encircling the pupils. There were different shades of it there. His eyes reflected his clothes, the greenery, any rich colors nearby, but she could see right through and past them. He was trying to hide how he was feeling.
Good Lord! They were on a beach, heading to a jungle. It was warm and tropical already and it was early. No rescue rescue was coming unless they signaled a random boat. She wondered how he felt about a moonlight swim, tonight, some night, just the two of them.
A voice interrupted, but they still watched each other, only breaking eye contact this time when Jack had to stand and check his backpack zippers. She was grabbing a few strays bottles she found to put in mesh pockets on the outside of her bag.
"If you two are through verbally copulating, maybe we ought to get a move on. We have a beach full of people waiting for us to go get them some drinking water..." Charlie looked up at Locke nervously, "and the Great White Hunter's getting restless." Charlie gestured towards the older man, who stood patiently by the entrance to the jungle.
Locke held a piece of a mirror that caught the sunlight. He slowly shaved the hair under his jaw with a sharpened blade but watched the three of them instead of the mirror.
Kate wasn't intimidated. Locke was hard to read. She wondered if God had made sure the official tour guide of "Monster Island" was the plane with them. He seemed to revel in being there and knew so much, almost too much about the place.
She didn't challenge him. He gave her no reason. He was spot on with his hunting and field dressing skills. That part earned her respect. If he helped her kept everyone alive and fed, who was she to question him? She had even learned a few things from him, things she never would have learned in Iowa.
He was polite, acknowledged her tracking skills, included her in hunting. He even gave her a good knife from his collection to gather fruit. He was no personal threat to her. She noticed she was the only woman he included in those forays, but realistically, there were none other qualified or trained.
Jack was finally ready. Kate smirked. She never wanted to hear any crap in the future from him about how long it took women to get ready, not that it took her long on the island, or that they had any events to go to, or clocks for that matter.
This was the primitive living her Dad, deployed overseas, enjoyed, only it was in forests, not jungles with polar bears, mystery towers that blocked signals and a monster that stomped trees, chased them and killed humans viciously like the plane's pilot.
Jack spoke as the leader, signaling their departure. He had found the fresh water in the caves. He was ready to show them. "Okay, let's do this." He walked and she walked beside him.
He was carrying extra bags. Locke had already stridden into the jungle when Jack spoke, leaving them behind. He was probably following Jack's return trail from yesterday.
As Kate stepped over the wreckage, she looked over at Charlie who stood in the same spot. "Hey Charlie! Ask Jack about his tattoos!" She said it with a grin for Jack's benefit.
"Ah. You two have an inside joke. How wonderful for you both." He sounded sarcastic but his response made both Jack and Kate laugh. They followed Locke into the jungle, who had already started at a good clip.
Kate listened for Charlie behind her, something she did unconsciously since he was prone to fall behind or trip randomly, mainly when running or avoiding something.
She hiked on, watching Jack's back and broad shoulders, hoping Charlie would keep up this time.