She's not sure she should be here, not sure there's a slot in the bittersweet memories and reminiscence for her presence. Juliet gets dubious glances in her direction, a nod from a few people who had always been the most forgiving, most trusting. The jungle is balding, patches missing from the edges and in spots where resorts and McDonald's has purchased lots, but she isn't startled to learn that Hurley bought the ample beachfront and the two level hut they're gathering on now. A dock pokes into the ocean's tide like a splinter, but it's far less out of place than the neon signs and concrete lines that border the property. Juliet catches snippets of conversation but she ends up settled by the dormant bonfire, observing the others.
Hurley hovers over the grill, tonging steaks and burgers toward those who want them. She sees Kate, with a hopeful bun poised open for its intended contents, pause hesitantly beside him, but he points toward the stack of soy burgers to the side and they share a small smile. Juliet has to remember to ask her how she managed to avoid jail, but she thinks that's more of a late-night bar inquiry, not a mid-afternoon barbeque talk. Polite conversation usually doesn't delve into such subjects, but she's also aware these aren't the typical average Joes and Janes, and they don't share the most common relationships.
Juliet catches sight of Sun, holding a tiny infant up to a cooing Rose. She presses her lips softly to the baby's pink cheek, and then nods once in her direction. The Asian woman had always trusted her more than the others, possibly because in the end she had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Juliet watches on as she wraps the pink blanket tighter around her chubby body, despite the heat, and curls the child closer.
She isn't surprised not to see Jack among them, because even though he had left this place a triumphant leader, he couldn't return the same way. He'd called her once, late, drunk and mumbled something about the island and coming back. She doesn't think this is the get-together he had in mind, but it's almost poetic; the way that the only one who really wanted to return (judging by the fidgety looks and hesitant steps toward the ever decreasing jungle), and the one who had risked life and limb to get them away from it in the first place, was absent. Juliet may not be a highly creative person but she recognized irony when she saw it.
It's still fairly early, almost two o'clock, and guests are still arriving. She'd been surprised to see the invitation in her mailbox, especially since her address was unlisted and even more so because of her history with the group. She hadn't expected to be welcomed in with open arms then and she didn't anticipate to be summoned back now. But, Juliet reminded herself, she didn't have anything to prove and she supposed the prospect of seeing people who really wanted to see her was better than another night at the lab.
Juliet slides her feet deeper into the sands beneath her lawn chair, having already kicked off her sandals. The scent of cooking meat wafts close, and even though she's hungry, she hasn't finished testing the waters enough to rise and join the conversation.
Sayid is ambling toward the group, as if he's just as unsure of being there as she is, when he glances in her direction. Juliet stiffens. He'd never gotten the answers out of her that he'd deemed sufficient, and she thinks for a moment that he might approach her. He didn't exactly intimidate her, but she knew when to watch her back. Thankfully Hurley distracts him, pulling Sayid toward the food table. Juliet doesn't think the affable man had done it on purpose but she's still grateful.
It's not long before Sawyer plops down beside her, a paper plate of ribs and potato chips balanced precariously on his knees. He hands her a paper cup filled just to there with an amber liquid that burns her nostrils when she whiffs it.
"Thought you could use a drink." he explains gruffly, but there's a softness there that she thinks she wouldn't have picked up on a year ago. He understands, she thinks, what it's like to be folded into a corner, to populate the outskirts of even a makeshift society. Juliet takes it gratefully, and sits in the comfortable silence with equal appreciativeness. Neither of them feels the particular need to press small talk, and that settles into a loose air over them. It's nice, to have company that doesn't mind the contact but not the white noise. Hurley wanders over after a few minutes and hands her a cut of grilled fish. She thanks him and he pats her shoulder awkwardly while smiling at her in a non-strained way that makes her grin back. Juliet thinks she sees Sawyer smirk at her knowingly, as if he knows this is where it all starts. She eats the salmon with a knife and fork, glancing back out at the group as they begin to settle in, and for the first time she doesn't feel like just an observer.
Juliet doesn't mind when Sawyer is called away, by Alex of all people, as she jabs her thumb behind her and relays a message from Hurley requesting people who can lift heavy stuff. Alex is wearing a plaid button up over-shirt that Juliet pretend she doesn't recognize, a little loose on her small young frame, and is wearing bulky metal rings on all ten fingers. Her faded tank-top reads something that Juliet thinks could be Nirvana. She isn't surprised when she hears that Alex settled in Seattle, and Juliet finds it amusing, in a purely scientific observational way, the effects of introducing a teenager, who hasn't been exposed to the world her whole life, into American pop culture. She stifles a laugh and hopes no one notices, even though Sawyer raises his eyebrows in an understanding way.
On his way over to the equipment truck, Sawyer nods to Desmond, who's laughing at something Jin has said, the two heavy accents blending together in a chorus of international tones. Desmond hugs the woman on his arm closer as he acknowledges him back. It's clear Desmond has found his way into the whiskey, but he isn't as intoxicated as she's seen him in the past. She knows that has to do with not feeling the need to be drunk with the ginger-blonde finally at his side.
She's intrigued by the microphones and tape recorders she sees circulating around, but it doesn't take long for her to pick up on what's happening. Juliet had heard awhile back that Charlie's old band-mates, most specifically his brother Liam, had begun working on a tribute album. The recording company had been bribing police officials and private phone companies to get a hold of their addresses and numbers. They remind her too much of rats, scrambling for the tiniest scrap of cheese even if it was a maze and there was no way out. But she glances at Liam, the emotion on his face when he asks people what life had been like here, and she knows he's not one of those. He just wants to know how his baby brother had spent his last months, trying to reclaim a piece of him for memory. Juliet doesn't resist when he approaches her, hoping she could be of more help because she knows what it's to live in the uncertainly of life and death with a sibling. She wishes this story had a different ending, more similar to her own.
The darkness is bearing down on them, night encroaching in the most suffocating of ways, and it isn't long before Hurley gives the signal to switch on the stadium-like lights. It's then that she catches sight of the petite blonde, her son toddling at her side. Claire's smiling, but as she turns her eyes toward the recording crew she knows it's an empty gesture. Yet there's warmth in the hug she shares with Liam, and judging by the whispered tones they converse in, this isn't the first time they've met. Juliet thinks that isn't much of a surprise; they are the only living thing remaining of the man they both lost.
He bends down and swings Aaron into his arms, while the little boy greets the man as his uncle, and it makes sense. They've become family, however indirectly. Claire squeezes his shoulder in thanks as Liam takes the boy to the picnic table, making sure she isn't watching when he allows him to shove a fist full of potato chips into his mouth. She says hello to a few people, promising to call and catch up later. Juliet gets the impression that the other woman isn't in the mood to be reminded of her ex-life, and she doesn't blame her. She wonders briefly why she's here in the first place, but then Claire glances over at Aaron and smiles as he's surrounded by the adopted family he'd been ripped away from, and Juliet gets it. The sacrifices are just one reason why she'd never had children.
Juliet's blue-grey eyes meet Claire's from across the beach and Claire waves enthusiastically. She crosses the sand with her head low, avoiding conversation, and plops down into the lawn chair beside her.
"How have you been?" she questions cheerily, curling her legs under her.
"Just fine." Juliet responds, almost warily. They hadn't been close on the island, not that Juliet had made many friends there, and this sudden bout of interest startled her.
But as Claire nods satisfactorily and rests her chin on her wrist, sighing into the silent air, she knows this isn't about making up for lost time. Claire wants to sit with someone that won't question her about how she's holding up, or if Aaron is adjusting, or if she's finally moved on. Claire doesn't want to talk about the serious issues, because she's had enough conversations with herself about such things. Re-hashing it just makes everything seem worse.
Juliet opens her mouth to speak, and the fear in Claire's eyes is apparent, the fear that maybe she hadn't picked the right person as company if she wanted her facade to remain intact.
"So where are you living now?"
Claire's relief comes out in a whooshing breath and she smiles slightly, nodding gratefully.
"Back in LA. The school system isn't perfect but Aaron is happy there." Claire doesn't tell her how much it hurt her aunt that she'd moved away, or how much she wanted to raise her child without the other woman's bitter influence. "How about you? I don't even know where you were... before."
"Florida." Juliet responds quickly, and she doesn't go into Portland or how she'd relocated in the first place.
They talk about superficial things, given the circumstances, about the weather or their plumbers or how much they'd paid for their houses. Juliet laughs, really laughs, when Claire tells the story about Aaron's first day of daycare and how he'd shown off his special skill of starting a fire with the popsicle sticks. Thankfully the teacher had put a kibosh on that before it got too out of hand. She finds herself explaining her recent grant from some foundation to test out gene therapy, and Claire almost looks interested.
Before long the lights are going out and Hurley announces from somewhere, she thinks by the bushes but she can't really see anything, that he's arranges for the fireworks on a boat a few miles into the ocean. Aaron scampers over to Claire, a mixture of excitement and fear evident on his face. She watches on in anticipation along with the rest of the group, an idea that gives her a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach, when the first pop trails up into the sky. The tiny point explodes, and sparks rain down from their point of impact. It takes her a moment to quell her heart at the realization that they won't come down on her. A beat, and then the auditory cue, always late behind the visual.
She watches the tiny fizzles and the bright pops, like holes being ripped in the sky, and sits back in the lawn chair. She likes the ones that clap like giant sparklers in the sky, sparks of gold. Aaron claps his tiny fingered hands over his ears, startled by the noise but entranced by the sight. They come in quick succession, not leaving the sky time enough to breathe before another goes off.
She feels Claire slip her small, soft hand into her own, her stubby nails tracing the backside of her palm. She thinks it's a thank you, and she glances over at her face, willing to miss a few seconds of the light show for the illuminated grin, like she knows she's watching.
Then there's silence, the quiet reverberations off the mountains behind them, and then applause. She can smell the sulfur, but then she can't tell if it's left over from the explosions or from Sawyer's cigarette, grey smoke rings in the air and greenish plumes wafting into the clouds.
They stay there, simply waiting, until Aaron's whining that he's tired punctures the silence. Juliet glances over at Claire who's smiling in a way that could almost be genuine, and then out at the others.
She doesn't need to be reminded why she came, because this is it. To see the people she'd helped and harmed, who she hadn't spent much time with, but their fates had become so intricately and irrevocably coiled together that she couldn't untangle herself no matter how much she tried.
Juliet thinks this could be where she belongs, if she lets it.