I'm still really depressed about the lack of Jate in season three, so here's a one-shot I wrote about what might have happened if Jack had gone after Kate in Catch-22. I've had the idea for a while, but I couldn't figure how to do it until I heard the song "Used To" by Daughtry, and then it just fell into place, which is why I've included the lyrics. It's a little more realistic than my last one, but hopefully you'll all still enjoy it.
HOW IT USED TO BE
You used to talk to me
Like I was the only one around
You used to lean on me
The only other choice was falling down
You used to walk with me
Like we had nowhere we needed to go
Nice and slow
To no place in particular
We used to have this figured out
We used to breathe without a doubt
When nights were clear
You were the first star that I'd see
We used to have this under control
We never thought
We used to know
At least there's you
And at least there's me
Can we get this back
Can we get this back
To how it used to be
I used to reach for you
When I got lost along the way
I used to listen
You always had the just right thing to say
I used to follow you
I never really cared where we would go
Fast or slow
To anywhere at all
I look around me
And I want you to be there
Cause I miss the things that we shared
Look around you
It's empty and you're sadCause you miss the love that we had
Jack hadn't meant to be so cold. He just didn't know how to talk to her anymore. There was so much water under the bridge at this point; sometimes, he wished they could go back to that day in the clearing, before all of the lies and half-truths and Sawyer.
The idea that, in spite of everything, she'd chosen the southerner still bothered him, more than he thought it should. Since his return to the camp, he had lain awake every night, staring at the roof of his tent, wondering where she was, and if she was with him. It wasn't something he wanted to think about, but every time he did, his mind would flash back to the monitors at the Others' camp, and he wouldn't be able to shut out the image of her wrapped in his shirt, kissing him, his hands on the bare skin of her back.
He knew he had no right to be so angry, so hurt; except for that one kiss in the jungle, she'd never given him any sign that he did, but the betrayal he'd felt on seeing them together wasn't all that different to what he'd experienced when he learned that Sarah was cheating on him.
Things had been bad between them for a while, but they were working through it; he'd thought they'd shared a moment on the docks, before the bags were pulled over their heads, but maybe it was just him. Maybe all she'd ever wanted was to know that he would save them.
Whatever she was trying to tell him with that look, it didn't matter now. What was done was done. She'd made her choice; now they both had to learn to live with it.
Part of that was moving on.
Sitting down in the sand, he handed one of the makeshift bowls he was carrying to Juliet, almost laughing at her look of surprise.
"You have oatmeal?" she asked as she peered into it in the firelight. "That's strangely comforting. Somehow I always pictured you eating boar meat or something."
Jack couldn't help but smile at this comment. Through her eyes, it all seemed so absurd: the crash, their war with the Others, the Dharma food drops. Through his own eyes, it didn't seem much better. "We do, or we did, when Locke was here," he explained, feeling his expression darken into a frown as he added, "Guess we're just going to have to make do with what's in the pantry until we figure something else out."
He turned back to his bowl, intending to eat, but as he picked up his spoon, he was distracted by the realisation that it was the one Kate had given him. The one that had been in her mouth. He tried to shut out that thought and concentrate on his dinner instead, but he could feel his own mouth going dry as he remembered the almost provocative way she'd licked it before handing it to him. Once last play for his attention.
He wished he could say that it hadn't worked, that it hadn't left him way to focused on her tongue.
Scanning the beach, he spotted her down by the water, the pile of bowls she'd collected balanced beside her as she rolled up her jeans, exposing her slim, athletic calves. The sight was so mesmerising after all that stuff with the spoon that he had to look away, forcing himself to return his attention to Juliet.
"I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to the idea of a pantry on the beach," she said, smiling as she surveyed the camp. "This place is amazing. Almost homey. You should be proud."
Jack let out an embarrassed laugh in response, willing his eyes to remain fixed on her. "It wasn't me. I think the kitchen was Hurley's idea – he always knows how to make everyone feel better about being here."
He wanted to be a good host, to make her feel welcome, but he lost the battle, his attention inevitably drawn back to Kate. She was standing ankle deep in the water now, waiting for the tide to come in; he watched as she bent to rinse one of the bowls, a slow smile creeping onto his face when she misjudged the height of the waves and got soaked.
"Still, you must've done something for them to make you their leader."
"I made a couple of speeches when we first got here. I don't know why they thought they should listen."
Jack was so absorbed with what Kate was doing that he barely registered what either of them was saying now; he grinned as she deposited the bowl onto a towel, plunging back into the water, unfazed by the bath she was getting. It looked like fun; as much as he usually enjoyed Juliet's company, he wanted to be down there with her more. "Are you going to be okay on your own for a while?" he asked, finally tearing his eyes away from Kate.
"Why? Do you have an appointment?" Juliet asked with a wry smile. He saw her eyes trace his to the waterline, darkening a little when she seemed to realise what it was that was distracting him from the conversation.
If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that she was jealous, but he shook this thought off. He liked Juliet, but there was nothing between them, not yet anyway. "No, there's just something I need to do," he told her, standing up, depositing his untouched bowl on the ground beside her.
She gave him a tiny smile, and he could tell that she wasn't happy about it, but she nodded. "Sure. Go ahead."
"So is it as much of an adventure as you thought it would be?" he asked, stopping a few yards behind Kate.
She started, turning to him with a surprised look. "Sorry?"
"The dishes." He gestured to the pile of bowls on the shore.
She offered him a shy smile, her eyes shining with happiness in the moonlight. "It's not in the same category as blowing open the hatch, but it beats sitting around waiting for the next bad thing to happen." Grinning at him as she passed him, she picked up a handful of cups and headed back into the waves. "After living off fish biscuits for days, it's just nice to have dishes again," she added over her shoulder.
It was Jack's turn to be surprised. "Fish biscuits? Is that what they fed you? The Others?" He still didn't know much about what had happened to Kate and Sawyer while they were apart, other than that they were kept in the cages, and forced to work. And that they'd slept together. Maybe more than once. Probably since.
She stopped what she was doing, giving him a wry smile as she straightened up. "There was a machine in one of the cages. Sawyer—"
"I saw it – the machine," Jack cut in, before she could say anything else to remind him. Right now, he didn't want to think about the southerner. He just wanted another moment with her, even if they both knew it was a dead end. "After you left, before we came back here, they put me in one of the cages. I didn't know what it was for, but I saw it."
The conversation had strayed into dangerous territory; Jack watched Kate hang her head, embarrassed, or ashamed, he wasn't sure which. "Jack, about—" she began, but he knew what she was going to say. She was going to apologise for hurting him, and he wasn't sure that he could handle that now, not while the pain of rejection was still so fresh. Not with Sarah's words still ringing in his ears:
"It doesn't matter who he is, Jack. It just matters who you're not."
She was right, it didn't matter, it never did, or else why would she have chosen Sawyer, who was willing to let Shannon die just to make everyone hate him, who humiliated her in front of the entire camp, who admitted he loved her, then let Ana jump him on the day she died, less than a week before he and Kate got together.
She was right, it didn't matter who Sawyer was, or else she would've chosen him.
"Can we not do that now? That's not why I came here."
She looked up at him, defiant, bitterness clear in her voice. "Why did you come here? I thought you were having dinner with Juliet."
It took Jack a moment to come up with an answer, but finally he said, realising that it was true, "I guess I just missed this – us, or at least, how it used to be with us." His smile turned rueful as he added, "It feels like forever since we talked about anything besides the Others and… oatmeal."
Her expression softened as she gave him a sad smile. "I know what you mean. What happened, Jack? How did we get here?"
He shook his head, painfully aware of the fact that Sawyer wasn't the only thing that had led them down this road: the gulf between them was the work of months of broken down communication and misunderstandings. "I wish I knew."
Another awkward silence fell over them as Kate went back to work; taking a couple of bowls from the pile, Jack gave her a hopeful look. "But do you think we could just forget all that tonight and do the dishes?"
She nodded, offering him the first real smile he'd seen all night. "Yeah, I'd like that."
Returning her grin, Jack rolled up the legs of his jeans and followed her into the water. "Me too."