A/N: I've had an overwhelming response to some of my fic posted here (seriously, thank you) and lots of requests for longer, multi-chapter fics. The comments inspired me to pull out something that has been in the works for over 2 years, since the series finale, and although I've taken the opportunity to work on it sporadically throughout random periods of time, I never was able to completely commit to finishing. This is my attempt (and challenge) to fulfill that commitment, both to myself and this story that has been sitting on my flash drive for far too long. And so...I hope you all enjoy.
Due to length, chapters will be broken up in parts by season (ie., Season 3 - Part 1, Season 3 - Part 2, etc.) A majority of this has already been written and needs to be revised/beta'd, so the good news is, most chapters will post in rather quick succession. But there may be a longer stretch of time as we get into later seasons, and I can't promise things will always be so timely. If you're interested in keeping up with this story, I'd suggest putting it on alert in case chapters start to slow down (this is not me begging for attention to my fic, I promise you. This is me saying I'm a graduate student who has no idea what life will throw at me at any given time in the next few months.)
(As a note, creative liberties were taken to make this story my own, even in moments that played out exactly as we saw. Some moments, including dialogue, are directly in line with the show's narrative, but with slight tweaks. Some moments were added in because they seemed implied, and I wanted to expand on their possibilities. But ultimately, the story follows the general timeline of the series, from the very first few episodes of season 3, right up until the finale in season 6.)
"Ford. Austen. Shephard."
She doesn't bother to look up as she reads the names and when she finally meets his gaze, his expression is as blank as always. There's a beat of silence before he speaks. "Austen and Ford should be fine in the cages. But I want you with Shephard."
"I could've called that," Juliet answers evenly, crossing her arms, slightly surprised at how uncaring she's become about throwing bold answers back in his face. "And what exactly do you expect me to do with him? He's more stubborn than you are."
Ben smirks in response, and the grin that slides across his features causes her stomach to churn even as she steadies her poker face.
"I believe he'll break. And if not now, then eventually. I have my ways, Juliet."
She's so disgusted with the nature of the conversation that she can't even muster up an appropriate response. It was bad enough she had woken up from food poisoning to find out that they had captured at least four of the people living on the Island, and even though she was no stranger to who these people were, she still wasn't okay with playing the bad guy.
But Ben had promised to get help her get home. He had, for the first time in his life, promised that if she helped him with whatever he wanted from these people, she would get to leave. She would get to go home. Back to her sister, back to her nephew, away from this place where she would never amount to anything more than a trapped punching bag.
"Juliet."
She's halfway to the door as Ben's voice rings out, and she closes her eyes against his words.
"What?"
"I don't anticipate there to be any…issues, as your motives and rewards are clear. But should you think about changing your game in any of this…"
Juliet swallows, willing herself to stay calm and when she turns, her face is just as blank as his.
"There won't be. I assure you."
She somehow manages to make out of the house before the tears start to fall.
"Hey. You awake?"
Kate opens her eyes slowly, squinting into the darkness where Sawyer is hanging between the cage bars some distance away. She sighs. "What?"
Sawyer opens his mouth, then closes it. "Nothin'. Just checkin' to see if you're okay."
"I'm –"
Her words are cut off by the sound of a door opening and Sawyer turns in place as a tall blonde woman emerges from the behind the tree line. Faces meet, hard and steadfast, and he holds his gaze back at her.
"Well, you don't look like normal serial killer fare." He raises an eyebrow at her silence, and then smirks again.
"Got somethin' you wanna say, sweetheart?"
Juliet stares at his face, her gaze unmoving. Rouge. Con man. Tennessee. Slept with women and then used their vulnerability to steal from them. Everything she knows from his file flashes through her head, and she tries not to think about the fact that despite his clear sarcasm and anger, he's actually more on her level than he probably realizes.
"Nothing you want to hear, James. Trust me." She tosses a bottle of water in between the cracks of the cage and turns on her heel, leaving a scowling face behind her.
"Why'd she call you James?"
"Because…it's my name."
Juliet hears the conversation and something catches in her throat, but she doesn't turn around.
"You got a problem with me?" Sawyer leans against the door frame, his voice cutting through the quiet night and suddenly she regrets being nice enough to let him out of his cage so that he could sneak a quick shower.
"You got a problem with me?" Juliet returns the question coldly, and he glares in response.
"Well, yeah, Blondie, I do. Seein' as to how you're the one who locked us in these damn cages, tormentin' us with some stupid rock collectin'."
Juliet crosses her arms, knowing that she should be stronger than this. But she can't stop thinking of Ben and his promise and she suddenly doesn't want to do anything but go to bed and forget that she even exists as this person; this terrible person who everyone thinks is on the same level as her mastermind captor.
"I didn't do anything, James. Take your anger out on Ben, take it out on Tom, hell, take it out on Jack. But stop taking your anger out on me." She throws a towel at him forcefully. "I'll be outside when you're done."
The door slams and for a moment, Sawyer feels slightly bad for the harshness of his words. But then he remembers the bags over his head, the taser marks on his skin, and he wonders why he should even care about the blonde with the gun.
Juliet stands at the window, staring out over the unusually quiet barracks while fingers of her right hand brush absently over her lower back. She winces slightly. Jack's medication had been helpful, but it hadn't done much to ease the scar that now tainted her pride.
She realizes that she isn't really sure what made her do it. She knows that she doesn't care for Kate, although she also knows she can't just let someone die for the hell of it (she's not a murderer, she's not Ben and she's not Pickett. She's not Pickett.) But when she saw them on the beach, there was only one thought in her mind: to save them. Rather, to save him.
She had pulled the trigger without really thinking of the consequences. And now James was gone, probably back with his people, not bothering to care about what he left behind. He would never even know that he was saved by someone who thought that he was a little bit worth it.
She brings her face to the edge of the window but finds she can't cry anymore.
