Kate did not have a comfortable history with father figures; her own father was a distant monolith who no one who watches this show can remember and she murdered that other man that one time. Perhaps now she was taking more after Jack, because when she saw Roger for the first time, like a thundering thunder one thought burst from her heart, "I can fix him."
When they met, she was alone and lost, and he was the only one to take her hand and give her any guidance in that unfamiliar decade. He pulled her up from darkness and despair, and in return, she imagined, she distracted from the emptiness of his life and his failings as a human being. They were perfect together.
It was the sort of love that transcended time. Literally. It wasn't bound to the rusted bars of a polar bear cage that hadn't been cleaned in decades. Nor was it the sort of hazy, drug-induced obsession of a pill-popping doctor. No. This was real. It was now. Or then, as it were. She looked at him, next to her on the burlap-textured couch. He burped a little. It smelt of urine or beer—and one other sweet aroma, which was at once alluring and foreign: true love.
She didn't know what made her do it. He was not the most attractive man in the DHARMA Initiative, but the only one to pay her any mind, and that's all she needed. Alone with him in his bungalow, she leaned toward him on the couch and whispered, "Roger."
"Ugh," he groaned. He was like this after a bender. Cute.
Kate smiled smugly to herself. She was positive that stone-cold Burke, ice cube of a woman, thought she had it made with "Jim." It was laughable to say the least! She shifted her weight and leaned in to Roger's chest, giving him a little peck on the nose. "I said, get up."
Roger stirred to bleary wakefulness. "Wouldn't you rather... get down?"
Kate gave a squeal as they rolled onto the floor and into a sea of beer cans. Suddenly, there was a tap at the door.
"Leave it," Kate begged, tugging at Roger's collar.
"No, it might be LaFleur," Roger said. He shoved Kate away and stood, unsteadily, to answer the knock. Kate sat up on the floor, pushing brown hair from her pouty eyes.
Through his spindly legs, Kate could see that Jack was at the door. Their gazes met, and his face paled in surprise. Kate smirked, as if to say, Yes, that's right, doctor.
Jack shook his head and spoke to Roger. "I'm here for my keys. You said they would be ready today."
"Oh," Roger said, swaying. "Sorry, brother, but I've been a little busy, if you know what I mean."
"Actually, I do," Jack said, unfazed. "Don't use tongue, that one bites."
"Oh, I know, that's the way I likes it," said Roger, who did little mock snarl at Kate. She was still rolling about the carpet seductively. "Lemme grab those keys for ya." Roger stepped over Kate and disappeared around the corner.
Jack eyed the empty cans on the floor all around her slender body. God, he could go for a cold one right about now.
"Jealous?"
Kate's voice brought him back.
"Of what?"
"That I'm with a real man now?"
Make that a cold one and couple of horse tranquilizers.
Roger returned to the living room, jangling the set of keys like a kitty toy. "Here ya go, chief," he told Jack. "Now, if you don't mind, scram."
Jack seemed poised to fire back a remark, but Roger shut the door on the doctor's injured expression.
Kate giggled. "Sly dog!"
Roger turned to her, stretching like the sexy drunken gorilla he was. "I hope you mean me, darlin'."
Kate beckoned for him. "Are you coming back down here with me?"
But he just belched. "I don't think I can. The elevation change might knock me out."
"I'll come to you, then," Kate said alluringly. She attempted to get up using a provocative set of dance moves she had picked up during her conman days, but by the time she stood, Roger had, in fact, passed out waiting on her.
He really was a big child and Kate's ovaries were aching to do some mothering since she'd left Aaron in that motel without a juice box. When she thought of it, Roger really was everything she had ever wanted in a man, but in one package. She was so over going back and forth like a ping ball between males.
But, seriously, she thought:
He needed to be burped and changed like Aaron. (Cute.)
He had those sort of sandy wispy locks like Sawyer, who despite his shortcomings of not being Jack, was hot.
Lastly, he was a drunk like Jack, who despite his shortcomings of not being Sawyer, was a drunk.
She gave Roger a slight push, and he crumpled to the couch. She kicked a couple of cans out of the way. Ben could clean them up later. And as she was looking down at Roger, drooling a little in his adorable stupor, she decided it was time.
For, speaking of ovaries, Kate had been keeping a secret. Sure, it had only been forty-nine hours since meeting Roger, but the Island was a magical place. It could make things happen. She leaned in and whispered, "I'm late."
The words breathily flew into Roger's ear as his eyes flew open.
Kate smiled.
"So don't ask me to go on any hikes."