CRAYONS
By: AliLamba
Notes: Bah. This is in response to last night's episode (Eggtown), which I finished watching about four hours ago. Just sort of popped into my head, and this is sort of infused with my own predictions over Aaron's story. It's un-beta-ed, and was written very quickly. Oh, and it's also my first serious attempt with J/ate, or LOST in general. Anyway, hope you enjoy. Especially if you enjoy this enough to leave a review...?

Jack stood on the doorstep, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his slacks. His gaze flicked between the door and the colorful, organized garden that decorated the front lawn.

Nothing had ever been so hard.

He breathed deep; air circulating in, and out with sharpened effort, when his gaze fell on a small stretch of concrete hidden by the small stoop he was standing on.

Aaron.

The writing was coarse, and uneven until the very end, where it was obvious the fingers of another had finished his name.

Which was why he was here. Almost. Yes, almost…

There was so much—so much inside of him, that every time he pinpointed one emotion, another spawned, until he was so confused and upset and angry that he ended up here…on her (no, their) doorstep.

Jack concentrated his gaze on his shoes, used one to gently scrape something indistinguishable from the other. He was stalling, that much was obvious. Suddenly uncomfortable, Jack rolled his shoulders and raked a hand over his head, scratching an itch that wasn't there. He squatted on the short stoop, then sat, setting his feet on the path in front of him and leaning his arms on his knees. His hand held his face, the other lying limp.

"Aaron, wait!" the laughing voice came from behind him, and Jack spun around in stunned surprise, just in time to see the door fly open, and the tiny frame of a four year old boy stop just inside the doorway.

"Aaron—" and then she was there. The words she was about to say died on her lips, were sucked into a gasp that made her freeze. Jack's gaze was locked on her face, and he couldn't move. My God, he thought in a heartbeat, she's so beautiful.

Her hair was loose around her face, and she wore a simple tank top with an old pair of jeans. Only a hint of makeup graced her features—a stroke of mascara, the touch of blush. If it weren't for the tailored way the jeans hugged her curves, he could have guessed that they were still back…

Jack let out his breath and stood awkwardly, his hands dusting invisible dirt off his thighs. His lips drew closed in a controlled smile, and he nodded to Kate, whose lower lip was sagging just the smallest bit in uninhibited surprise.

And then Jack's gaze fell on Aaron.

The boy's emotionless expression was staring blankly in reply, his small hand still hidden behind the door. Jack bit back the rising sense of guilt that was attempting to blockade his throat.

"Hi Aaron," Jack started, then coughed to heal his hoarse voice, "I'm, uh…I'm Jack." Aaron started to fidget, dragging his foot across the wooden floor to meet his other, his free hand coming up to scratch his side. Jack chanced a glance up to Kate, met her eyes for a mere second before re-concentrating his effort on the child. "Do you remember me?"

"Jack," Kate breathed, diverting his attention, "Jack, what're you doin' here?" Her eyebrows were drawn together, though her exact reaction she kept guarded.

"I'm—" he started, and then had to look away from both of them, "I'm just trying, Kate."

"Jack?" Both adults turned to the boy, to the blonde child's upturned expression, as he gazed thoughtlessly in the older man's direction.

A slow, heady smile blossomed over Jack's mouth, and he almost laughed.

"Yes, Jack," he voiced, enthused, as Aaron took a small step towards him.

"Jack, we're going to go get cray-lons," Aaron enunciated, and he turned his head up to his mother, "We're going to get cray-lons."

Jack followed Aaron's gaze, and his smile only grew. She was already looking back at him, a small, secret smile struggling to be suppressed.

"Yes, we're going to get crayons."

Jack laughed later that afternoon, a warm welcome laugh that drew in the sunshine of Kate and Aaron's backyard.

"Yes, that is indeed me, and that is indeed…an anal suppository."

He turned away from Aaron's colorful drawing of Jack-the-doctor and gave Kate an incredulous stare, implying quite overtly: How do you teach him these things?

Kate grinned and shrugged mysteriously, hiding her amusement with another long sip of her iced tea.

Jack smiled, his lips drawing closed over his teeth contentedly, and he forced himself to stop staring.

"He's great, you know." His voice was confident as he watched Aaron scribbling languidly on a new sheet of paper with his brand new crayons. "Really, I don't know why I was so hes…" the rhetorical question faded, and Jack suddenly felt the chill rise up again in his chest. He shook his head, and located the sweet drink Kate had provided, taking a quick sip.

A cool touch brushed against his free hand, and Jack quickly turned in Kate's direction. Her hair was now done up in a loose bun, exposing the tasteful silver flowers adorning her earlobes.

"I'm glad you're here, Jack," she whispered, her long fingers stretching around his hand, as she tucked her digits against his palm.

Jack's heart fluttered, and he tenderly squeezed her hand in return.

"Yeah, me too."

They settled into comfortable silence, both watching Aaron enjoy his new present.

And then the cold bile started to squirm within Jack's chest. His smile dropped as he involuntarily shrunk backwards, into the unyielding white plastic of the lawn chair. Images were bleeding into his conscious memory. Of Claire, and an Aaron not so much younger, of helicopters, and water, and accidents.

The glass of tea Jack was holding slipped from his grasp, landing on the grass lawn with a heavy thud. Jack stood abruptly, Kate's hand dropping from their loose grasp.

"Jack—?" It was a question, and Kate was startled into setting down her own condensation-coated drink.

"I'm sorry," his voice was hoarse again, and Jack's gaze was looking everywhere except the two people he was with, "I'm sorry, I can't." He located the side gate and started towards it, shaking his head against the memories that were now overwhelming his senses.Your fault, his unconscious was whispering to him, It's all your fault.

"Jack, wait." Kate had compelled herself to action, and Jack felt her fingers grasp the fabric of his sleeve. He stopped, and turned around, allowing Kate to see the childish tears that had sprung.

"Kate, it's my fault."

"No, Jack, he's happy. Look at him," she pleaded, indicating where Aaron was still sitting at his small, plastic table, staring back at them. "He's so happy. And he's loved."

The pain was infecting his blood stream, and Jack looked back to Kate. How could she—how could anyone understand what it was like, this responsibility. How could he even ask her to try.

And suddenly, Jack was wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, was drawing his lips against hers and provoking them to move. Kate's mouth responded readily, opening and allowing him to express everything he couldn't say: that he was sorry, that he wanted to be better, and that he loved her.

Jack pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against Kate's. Their breathing came against each other's erratically, tinged sweetly with tea.

"Jack please, don't go," she whispered, drawing her palm against his cheek. He leaned into her touch, longingly, and kissed her again.

Until something brushed against their legs, something small and slight at their side. Jack broke away and looked down, finding Aaron's upturned face.

Jack stepped backwards towards the wooden fence. His gaze sought Kate again, though now her head was drooped, her hand smoothing Aaron's hair as her son clutched her leg. She wasn't looking at him, and if Jack had looked closer, he would have noticed her closed eyes behind the strands of hair loosened from their knot, would've seen the small tears that curled at the corners of her eyes.

But instead Jack turned, unlocked the gate, and fled to his waiting car.

He needed a drink.