I hope you guys all had a nice Christmas.

I know – I lied when I said I was going to take a break. I don't do relaxation well. And I missed hearing from you guys. I had intended to write a sequel to Solace, but then I had this great idea for a new story. I was going to use it for something else, but I thought I'd try it out on you guys first. It's my take on an alternate history fic (I seem to be working my way through the list of classics!), so I have changed a lot of the characters' backstories, but in essence, they're the same. I've left the town generic, since Kate's hometown has never been revealed. And since I've always thought that Sam was one of Kate's saving graces, I've taken him out of the equation, which is why her last name is Jansen here. I've found it works better that way anyway, because it means she relies on Jack more to save her. I was actually going to write this story about Tom and Kate, but I figured that would alienate both the Jaters and the Skaters, so I've opted for Jack instead (they seem to be similar characters anyway). As we all know, in any life, Jack will always make it his mission to save Kate.

I'm also considering an appearance by Sawyer, but he won't be a very good guy, so let me know if you have any objections and I'll make up a new character.

Let me know if you like it, and if you want me to continue. I've got some pretty exciting stuff planned, including a killer conclusion – I think it's one of the best ideas I've had in a long time. As with all of my fics, the title has special significance, which I will explain later on.

Enjoy, and drop me a line. I love to hear what you guys think.

Chapter 1. Homecoming

It had been almost twenty years since Jack Shephard had been home, to the place where he was born, the place where he had lived until a few weeks shy of his thirteenth birthday. That was when his parents had gotten divorced, his father taking the house and his medical practice in town, his mother taking her settlement and custody of him, packing him off to live with relatives in L.A.

He'd always meant to come back after high school, but life had a tendency to get in the way of even the best laid plans. Graduating top of his class, he'd been accepted into Berkeley, and he'd never looked back, not until he'd received word of his father's death a week ago. They hadn't been close; he hadn't seen the man in eight years, since his graduation from med school, but he was all the family Christian Shephard had, so he'd agreed to return long enough to bury his father.

But even that was too long.

Jack had never liked his birthplace. It was small and cramped and rustic, and everyone knew each other's business. He'd been only too happy not to return to school after the divorce, seeing what other kids in similar situations went through. Single-parent families still weren't that common then; having a mother and a father living under different roofs set you apart, and that was something no twelve year old wanted.

Jack was pretty sure he would never have considered setting foot there again once he'd made his escape if it wasn't for Kate. He'd promised to come back for her someday, and so far he hadn't. For all he knew, she was still here somewhere, married with a couple of kids, all thoughts of running away with him forgotten. She'd laugh if he mentioned it when they ran into each other on the street, chalking it up to the folly of youth; puppy love.

Kate. She'd be thirty-two now, not the skinny, freckled girl with the wild hair and sad green eyes he remembered from his childhood. The girl who climbed trees and rode horses and had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count. The girl his mother said was a bad influence. She was still the first and only girl he'd ever truly loved, the standard to which he held all other women. Maybe that was why he still wasn't married, twenty years later. No woman could compete with those memories.

But that's all they were: memories. Kate Jansen, the girl he'd known, was gone, replaced by a stranger he no longer had anything in common with, even a postcode. That was why, he'd stayed away all of these years, because they'd long since fallen out of touch. By the time he was in a position to make good on his promise, it didn't make sense anymore.

Still, a part of him hoped he'd see her again, if only to sate his curiosity. She had always been so volatile, so unpredictable, that it was hard to tell what exactly she'd grow up to be. In the time that he'd known her, she'd never had any career plans; all of her dreams revolved around getting away.

He wondered if she'd done it. If anyone deserved a clean slate, it was her.

Kate hadn't had an easy childhood. Her mother worked in a diner and was never home, leaving her to take care of the house. Her father, Wayne, as Kate less than affectionately called him, was a drunk who scared Jack even more than he seemed to scare her. In the eight years they'd been friends, Jack had never made it over the threshold except on those occasions he was down the road at the bar. Even then, they'd never stayed long.

Kate didn't like to be there when he got home.

Jack had never asked her why, and she'd never told him, but he saw the bruises when they went swimming in the creek together. She kept them covered most of the time, but in the few seconds it took her to strip down to her bathing suit, or her underwear if she hadn't brought it, and jump into the water, she couldn't hide them from him, and he saw. He'd wanted to tell someone, his mother maybe, but he was young and frightened, and she was the ringleader. He never did anything without her approval. Except leave.

She'd cried the day he told her, the first and only time he'd ever seen her do it. She hadn't even cried when Wayne hit the old mare her mother bought her for her birthday with his truck. Instead, she went into his closet, took his riffle, and put a bullet into the horse's head without flinching when the vet told them she was beyond saving.

She was always the daredevil, the risk taker, the one with all the courage. Jack hadn't learned to be brave until after his mother had removed him from under her thumb.

And now he was a surgeon.

It had been a year since he'd finished his residency, and Jack could still count the number of patients he'd killed on one hand, so all in all, he wasn't doing too badly. He had a job that he loved, a nice apartment, nice friends, and a mother he was relatively close too.

It was amazing the difference his father's absence had made. Once Margo had learned to stop siding with Christian, and putting him ahead of their son, their relationship had changed drastically. Jack could safely say that he wouldn't have become half the man he had without her influence.

With Christian, things were pretty much the opposite. Though Jack had followed in his father's footsteps, becoming a doctor, he never wanted to be like him. He wasn't much better than Wayne: both were weak, both put themselves and their addictions ahead of their families, the only difference was that while Wayne's abuse was physical, Christian's was more cerebral. Jack had never had the bruises Kate had growing up, but he was pretty sure he could match her for emotional scarring.

He wasn't glad Christian was dead, but he wasn't sure he was as sorry as he should be. The sight of his father's lifeless body hadn't killed him; he felt numb staring into the coffin that morning at the funeral home, any tears he had for his father long since dried up. He could only imagine the talk his stony expression would incite at the funeral tomorrow, as he delivered the lukewarm eulogy he had laboured over all week. He was pretty sure the word "ungrateful" would come up, mixed in with slurs on his mother and L.A. for making him think he was too good for this place, even if he was.

His father was something of a local hero, saving everyone except his family and himself. Whatever respects Jack paid him would never be good enough in their eyes; he would never be able to put up a convincing enough front of grief.

It didn't matter though, because once his father had been committed to the earth, and the keys to his home and practice handed over, Jack was out of there again, and this time, he wasn't coming back.