Trapped
She was graceful. Yes, she certainly was graceful, and that was the first thing he noticed, and took time to appreciate. He didn't look for too long, in case she thought he was staring. He simply looked down at his plate, and cut his steak carefully, hearing her soft footsteps as she approached.
He felt guilt. Incredible guilt, as nothing that beautiful should ever be placed in something...something like a cage. The real world, the world the survivors seemed to be so desperate to be apart of...that was the world that pushed a princess in the mud. It was just that simple. He looked up, and gave a gentle smile. She was so beautiful. She could have sprouted wings there and then. An angel.
He stood, and pulled out a chair for her, and she reluctantly took a seat. He took a glance downwards, and then looked up at him with a look of disgust on her face. That look tore at him, the thought that she hated him...
But what did he expect? She was one of them. She thought he was her enemy. And he was doing what all those other ungrateful bastards in the outside world did...caging her.
"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to ask you to put those on, Kate." he instructed as he sat across from her. She shot him a defiant look.
"And if I don't?"
He put his hand on the coffee grinder. "Then you don't get any coffee."
And then it happened. It might've been...just imagined, and on looking back, it probably was, but he liked to think it was real. The slowest...the gentlest...the smallest of smiles at his comment, which was quickly banished within a second. He tried to return it, and that look of disgust came back again. That look that ripped him apart. He wanted that smile so much. That's all he wanted, just a little smile directed at him. But he was trapped, just like her. Caged by his duty, his responsibilities, and most of all, trapped by her. Trapped by the knowledge that she would never feel about him, the way he felt about her.
She obeyed, putting on the handcuffs, and they talked, a bitter tone in her voice contrasting with the simple civil tongue he took with her. And he gave her a reason, a reason for the dress, the food, the scenery. He told her he wanted her to feel comforted, and he did, he truly did. But at the core...he wanted to pretend. He wanted to have a nice, civil, and yes, romantic, dinner with her with the soft movements of the ocean in the background, the breath-taking sights of the island nothing in comparison to her eyes, her grace. She felt a burning anger towards him, but...at least she felt. Anger was better then simple apathy, an emotion he had become consumed with, an emotion she freed him from when she was around.
Freed from apathy, trapped by desire. Why, there should be a poem.
He was pretending, true. Just pretending, and he had thought it had made him feel...good. But he didn't. He was still trapped. And as long as they were alive...Jack Shepherd...James Ford...he would be forever trapped.
But love wasn't selfish. He would let them live. He would keep them, he would educate them, and he would make them perfect for her. She would be happy, without him or not. Even if her smiles weren't directed at him, they were still smiles, weren't they?
He would free her, yes. He would free her.