Author's Note: Hey folks. After the heart wrenching finale, I thought I'd try my hand at an earlier Dharma fic. This is my first completed fic since my writer's block, so hopefully it's not too horrid lol. I simply adore this couple and Jin and Miles, and was interested in all the possibilities that the writers left open with those three years (and I've been listening to Meg & Dia and rewatching Juliet-centric-Season-3-episodes too much lol). Since it's the first chapter, this is more like Juliet's insight than anything else.

And I changed the title because I decided I hated it and it didn't fit all that well. Hope you guys don't mind haha

Happy reading!

Chapter 1: The Uncertainty

After years of being somebody else—somebody cold, somebody conniving, somebody explicitly not who she was on the streets of Miami—Juliet not only was unsure if she was the follower or the leader, the sweetheart or the savior, but she also didn't have the faintest idea how to go about being it. Whatever 'it' in fact was.

She knew right from the beginning that James was supposed to be part of the con, the centerpiece of the lie that was now their lives. As their days in Dharma passed, though, the lines were blurred and her sheer uncertainty seemed to amplify. When it was the two of them it was books and wine, catchy music and 9 to 5 jobs; it wasn't the pain, the loss, or the suffering, and perhaps that is why she was so determined to distrust it. She had long since been used to nothing but.

Despite her tendency to discreetly wallow in her countless misgivings (a byproduct of being a horrid mix of a fighter, a pushover, and a prisoner), there was something in the way he looked at her when he thought she didn't notice, something in the way he would let a smile easily light up his features when she was in the room that triggered her wonder.

She hadn't the faintest idea when this change in him occurred—this change from being all set to burn her at the stake whenever the opportunity presented itself, to protecting her—to running from a constant nightmare with her at his side, rifles in tow. She figured that chronic nosebleeds and machete-wielding Others probably altered the equation quite a bit, but there was this flicker of a feeling writhing in the pit of her stomach—a sliver that hoped that through all that they had been through, maybe this was the piece that wasn't a lie.

So she promised those two weeks.

It was odd, after penciling in 'run for your life' as the main priority on her mental agenda for so long, sitting around doing something so normal such as drinking beer with the boys was a little hard to take in at first. As her promised days dwindled, Juliet found it almost amusing that in this yellow box of a house, with clean hair and spotless clothing, she felt more off balance than she did running from smoke monsters and flaming arrows. At least then was kept busy by an objective—some sort of a defense or plan. At least then she wasn't stuck with these restless insecurities she long since deemed petty in comparison to the sole need to survive. And at least then she didn't have Miles Straume propping his boots up against a chair, a pensive smirk in place, almost taunting her like he would a schoolgirl left uneasy by some tentative crush.

They had all shared a lot over the past few weeks, but the last thing she wanted to talk about this morning was James La Fleur.

Miles lounged back in his seat at the kitchen table sipping his coffee, the wooden legs of the chair squealing slightly as it moved across the floor. Juliet promptly turned her back to him, feeling the tiles beneath her feet as she gracefully pivoted. As she memorized this cool, concrete feeling of normalcy, she refused to give Miles an inkling of vindication. She could tell he was studying her without even sparing him a glance; she knew he was trying to detect and dissect her emotions, so she wordlessly stared determinedly at the collection of dishes left in the sink before her—the result of living with four men for over a fortnight. She picked up the sponge and began a foamy, circular motion as she bit her lip trying to rid her mind of Sawyer and broken promises and meaningful glances. It was all she could do to refrain from rolling her eyes at how trivial this should all seem by now.

"So did you realize your feelings for La Fleur before or after you agreed to stay?"

She promptly dropped the sponge. She decisively refused to let him realize the effect the topic had on her, yet the question was enough to startle her out of her reverie. During her initial silence she could practically feel Miles' smirk without as much as a glimpse behind her.

"I'm sorry?" Juliet asked innocently, tilting her head slightly towards him for a second before turning her vigorous attention back to the dish at hand. He persisted.

"You haven't even packed yet," he commented, nodding his head as his mug brushed his lips.

"What are you getting at, Miles?"

"You don't need a calendar to know that it's day 14, Juliet."

At this she turned around slowly, only to be met by a rather pointed look.

"Since when did you keep track?"

"Since you stopped," he deadpanned, removing his boots from the chair. She noticed how he set his mug down quietly on the wooden table with an air of finality.

She sighed, also seeing that she was losing. Finally giving up on the dishes behind her, Juliet leaned against the sink, folding her arms in the process, and fixed him with a stoic gaze. "Miles, what's your point?"

"My point is you and Sawyer," he claimed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "C'mon, Juliet—'I've got your back? Just two weeks?' I'm pretty sure the sub leaves today, and you're standing there doing the dishes like it's nothing."

Although her eyes blinked a few times in response, she initially stood there in silence. After years of mastering a blank mask, she wouldn't allow her calm demeanor to crack. There would be no point to it.

"It doesn't matter, Miles," she reasoned. "I promised two weeks, and it's been two weeks. John isn't coming back, so what other reasons do I have to stay here?"

He simply raised an eyebrow. "I think you know the answer to that," he told her. By now he had risen from his chair, absentmindedly tugging at a loose thread from the blue seat cushion.

"Honestly, Miles, why are you so concerned?" She felt one hand rest on her hip as the other aimlessly brushed through her strands of blonde hair.

At this, he chortled, brushing it off. "I'm not. I just don't want to see you make a huge mistake—I've seen him emotional and it's not pretty—and I do have to live with the guy."

He dismissively picked up his pack that was dangling from the back of his recently vacated chair. As he pulled it hastily across his back, glancing at his watch, he noticed her gaze had idled to the floor in silent thought. When he spoke again, the amusement was gone in his voice, replaced by a sudden seriousness that mirrored his now gentle curiosity. "You want to stay for him, huh?"

Her gaze was still directed at the lazy tan tiles, and when she spoke again, her voice had shed its icy defense and was barely above a whisper.

"I never—it's not," she sighed and shook her head yet again, frustrated at her own uncertainty. "I don't know."

When she looked back up at Miles, he was nodding to her mutely, adjusting the shoulder straps of his backpack. In his silence, she returns to the sink, staring at nothing in particular as she grasps a new dish, a little tighter than she normally would, forcefully scrubbing at the remnants.

"Maybe," he says when he finally speaks. "You should figure the answer to that out before you end up smashing all the dishes to bits."

As if on cue, a porcelain bowl slipped from her fingers and clunked resoundingly at the bottom of the drain. Miles dropped any remnants of a smirk, his eyes softening in turn.

"I wouldn't worry too much, Juliet—you guys fit—flirty banter and all."

He let himself reach the door before adding, "It's a little sickening how well, actually. Plus, look at it this way: it has only been two weeks."

"Trust me, it's been longer than you can imagine." They share a quiet look before his attention turns back to his wristwatch.

"I have to go," he realizes quickly, his gaze swiftly eyeing the clock above the sink as well. She watched as his hand rested the knob. "So I'll see you later?"

He paused before opening the door, glancing at her uncertainly in the sunlight that was streaming in through the window, casting a scattered glow around her.

"Of course," she heard herself say on command.

She felt a seemingly reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes automatically plaster itself onto her face. She sighed, watching the door shut behind him. Her smile soon slipped from her features as her eyes, like Miles' had moments before, fixated on the time. Briskly drying her hands on a nearby dishrag, Juliet sighed and headed towards the bedroom Sawyer had insisted she take.

The sun was nearly setting and the crowds of Dharma workers had already begun to filter back into their homes—Sawyer no exception. This was his first honest-to-God job (for the most part) and after dealing with Phil and Jerry for 10 hours straight, he had never been more inclined to lounge on the couch with a book and a beer in his life.

He could hear his roommates' hushed chatter before he even reached the porch. Unlocking the door, he blindly trudged and slumped himself into the nearest empty seat at the kitchen table in fatigue. He didn't notice Miles and Jin, both leaning against the counters, had ceased their conversation, as Dan simply watched him from their suede couch. Unceremoniously untying a bootlace, Sawyer looked up.

"Whatcha staring at, Whiz Kid?"

At Daniel's continued silence, Sawyer's eyes darted back to Miles and Jin as they both shifted uncomfortably. He looked around the room as well, wondering what was missing. His eyes settled in the direction of the hallway. Juliet. He had a fleeting thought that maybe she was working late, but his mind soon settled on an important fact he had forgotten: It had been two weeks today.

He glanced around at his roommates' faces.

"Son of a bitch—don't tell me she—" As the sudden panic began to seep in, Jin had been the one to step forward calmly.

"She's gone, Sawyer," he admitted quietly, a look of regret crossing his features.

And with that, Sawyer was up and out the door in record time.

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