Title: Four
Characters: Jack, Kate with some Hurley and Sawyer
Summary: The night they spent on the beach after The Candidate
AN: I hate this one, but I had to get it out of my system to be able to move to the next one (which apparently I cannot write until I get my new laptop. I love my OCDness). And as per usual, written at work while the boss looms over head. So all typos and grammatical errors are his fault.
Four. That is all that is left of their group. The group that was once forty eight, just over three years ago, sitting right on this same beach, lighting signal fires, sharing fruit, and hopefully waiting for rescue. This same group has shrunk down to just four. Four injured, bruised, tired, hopeless and in mourning as they wait for the weight of the next morning.
Sawyer tosses and turns in his sleep. His injury is healing slowly on his forehead. Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he realized there was no sign of concussion. He mumbles incoherently in his sleep, his forehead wrinkled in an obvious reflection of his uneasy sleep, undoubtedly haunted by nightmares of ticking timers and gushing water.
Hurley sits a few feet to his left, absentmindedly poking at the small fire they managed to get started. The tears have not stopped streaming down his face, long after his sobs had quieted down. A half-eaten mango rests in the sand next to him, and he tosses another branch into the fire.
Kate curls her body uncomfortable towards the fire; her left arm presses roughly against her chest trying to numb the crushing pain that strikes through her. She cannot seem to go to sleep. The events of the day replaying on a constant loop in her mind and the pain in her shoulder too much to allow her a moment's peace.
Jack completes the group, what remains of the group he'd once promised to protect and rescue. The mango in his rolls around like a stress ball he once had on his desk. His wet shirt clings to his back, still cold with the evening ocean water, but he does not seem to notice the discomfort. His eyes dart around from one friend to the other. He tries to find the words to comfort Hurley, but fails, and decides against walking over him. He keeps an eye on Sawyer making sure he does not slip into unconsciousness again. As long as the nightmares keep him shaking… he leaves the thought at that, not wanting to wander into that territory himself. He turns to Kate, pictures in his mind her injury, tries to recall every detail from the short moment he had to check it on the sub. He reminds himself that it was a clean path; the bullet had passed through without hitting anything major. The small fire they have burning is not enough to allow him another inspection. He knows he will have to find something in the morning to stitch her up to avoid infection. But all he can do now is watch over her and wish there was something he could do to make her comfortable.
She lets out a strangled moan when she tries to move closer to the fire and Jack's eyes snap open again, focusing on her. He whispers her name, urging her to look at him, and she turns towards him slightly.
There are tears on her cheeks, and her chin is trembling. Her eyes bore into his, pleading with him to do something, and she whimpers, "I'm cold."
Jack's heart tears in his chest. He knows she has lost too much blood for that fire to warm her up and there is not exactly much on the beach they can use for cover. There is one thing he can do for her now and as he walks towards her, he hopes she does not push him away.
He settles down behind her, his legs on each side of hers, and presses his chest to her back. He carefully brings one arms around her body, and waits for her reaction. He lets out a breath of relief when she relaxes against him. She allows herself to drop back onto his chest, turning slightly so that her body is nestled in his. She rests her head in the crook of his neck and both his arms wrap around her, being careful not to hurt her. Her injured shoulder seeks refuge in his warm chest, resting against where his own heart beats stronger than hers.
And that makes him sick. Hers had always been the one beating stronger. She'd always been the one who was more full of life, and that was how he always wanted it to be.