A/N: Lost ain't mine.

He would have paced, back and forth, like an expectant father waiting outside the delivery room. But he's finding it difficult to stand as it is, let alone to walk. He's taken to leaning against the wall instead, clutching the radio to his chest as though it was his lifeline.

Here we go again, he thinks. It pools in his stomach, and it churns, swirls, and grows just like when spinning yarn, only the yarn is his insides and the spinning is gaining speed, becoming intense, bordering on violent. He leans his head against the wall in the attempt to fight off the impending nausea with some sense of balance, an anchor. He should be used to it by now, but he's not. Fear has no masters; it can't be tamed, only negotiated with.

One. So he starts to count.

Two. The nausea takes hold. And he has to close his eyes.

Three. Only to be startled awake again. "What do we do now, Jack?" she asks pointedly.

Four. He breathes in deeply. Almost in relief.

Five. "We wait."

----

"Jack." She breathes out his name, ragged and gasping. They are still on the move.

"Kate. Are you safe?" comes his reply, voice even and calm.

He waits for the response, the contraption gurgling back to life. "Yes, at least, we think we are. For now."

"Sawyer will make sure you stay that way." The mention of his name makes him wince, but only in the briefest of moments, the sudden ache quenched into a dull, distant pain; he still has business to take care of. "Now, tell me the story."

"We won't leave this island without you, Jack," she says, defiant.

He blinks at that, his calculating mind slow to comprehend. "What are you…?"

"There are two islands, Jack. One's ours. The other, theirs. And right now, we're on theirs."

He spins on his heels, eyeing the blonde in surprise and outrage. He's treated to a cold stare and a knowing smile. "Dammit, this isn't happening!"

"Yes, it's not. Because we're getting you out of there. We can do this; we'll figure out a plan and come back for you..."

"Kate, no," he cuts her off. Hope is not something he needs. "Let me talk to Sawyer."

"I'm not going to run anymore, Jack."

That manages to derail his thoughts for only a beat as his mind quickly flits for a comeback. But she keeps at it, pounding his head with memories that detaches him from the here and the now.

"That first day, when I stitched you up, you told me the story about your first operation. A sixteen year old girl. A cut to her dural sac. You were going to lose her. But you sucked it up, the fear. Counted to five. Stitched her up and she was fine."

"Kate…"

"Guess what I'm doing now."

He smiles sadly through the radio, and wonders idly if they'd ever see each other again. How she might look, feel, react if she were to see him again. If she would smile and hug him, hold onto him like he was missed, loved. If she would find it in her capacity to forgive him then for what he was about to say now.

Because he has found the one thing he's sure would crush what little morsel of hope she has. "I saw you, Kate."

"With him."

It worked. He could feel her shock and guilt in the silence. "Get back to camp, Kate. You don't have anything to come back for here."

"Jack, wait, no. I can explain." She tries to keep him talking, keep him on the line. And oh how she tries, but her words are mere band-aid for a gushing wound.

"What you saw, it's not what it seems. Jack, it's…"

"I want you to know that I…," he swallows whatever amount of pride he has left.

"I didn't do it for him."

"Wait, Jack, I…"

There are a number of ways to finish that sentence. I'm sorry. I'm going to miss you. I love you. But he doesn't wait for her to finish it but rather proceeds to wrench out the batteries from the radio.

He prefers it that way.

----

There comes a stage in human life when one has to learn to let go. Why it took him so long to do so, he can only speculate. Why it took a plane crash, an inconceivably bizarre island, a certain brunette for him to realize this, he doesn't know.

Why this. Why that.

They are the most curious things, the most insidious of questions. To which he has no answers. They don't bother him now as much as he thought they should. But then, isn't that the whole point: he can let go.

The Red Sox won.

Somewhere in the planet, Sarah's happy.

And Kate.

He'd like to believe she will be, too. In time.