Where You Are, a lost fanfic

Where You Are

It's been a long year since we last spoke

I can't get used to it

I'll never get used to it

You alone with those pills

What you couldn't do I will

I forgive you.

For Blue Skies- Strays Don't Sleep

She pulled her hair up in a high ponytail, watching in the mirror as she did it, recognizing all too well the blank face and the eyes that seemed to have become dim overnight.

The other female recruits have already left for breakfast; they awoke refreshed and all smiles as they chattered to each other on the way out the door.

She stayed behind.

She let her hand fall away from her hair and hang against her side, turning away from the mirror and leaving the bathroom without a second glance.

The dark blue jumpsuit is bunched around her waist (it was comfortable yet having it zipped up all the way made her feel restrained, suffocated, like this new lie she had to conform to), and the stillness, the emptiness, of the room, matched how she felt on the inside, the only difference being it didn't change or go away.

She used to have a lot of things.

She used to finally be able to stop running.

She used to have a home.

She used to have the man she loved.

She used to have a child.

She used to be happy.

The ache, it throbbed inside her heart, and it intensified as the hours passed, as if it fed on time.

The knock on the door made her jump, but she knew it was him before she saw him.

She opened the door and he was standing there, looking down at her with hopeful eyes, and it suddenly flashed in her mind (him pulling her shirt over her head; his lips on her neck as she clung to him) and she had to make herself keep his gaze.

"Hey," Jack said, a smile on his lips (but the sadness is etched there on his face, always now), "I'm going to have breakfast; I thought I'd--"

"Yeah," She responded quickly, nodding with a small smile in return. "I was just going to go there myself."

She closed the door behind her, being careful not to look him in the eye more than she absolutely had to (it got harder every time), and stepped off the porch.

The conversations around them were loud, interested and cheerful, everyone mingling together to meet a new day, yet as Jack followed behind her, the only thing she could hear was the silence between them.

The silence got much louder when they were left alone together.

It dragged on, hovering in the air until she'd need to get away, or say something, anything, because she couldn't stand it anymore.

Her entire life, she never liked the silence (because it meant you were waiting, waiting for something, anything, to inevitably break it, and anything can happen when there was silence), and she looked up at Jack, pushing the words out of her mouth with a forced smile (they're always forced now).

"Did you know?"

He looked back at her, solemn, and nodded. "Yeah."

She stared back at him, why didn't you tell me? rising up in her throat, but she held it back (she thought she knew the answer anyway).

She looked back down at her plate, reaching for the small cup of maple syrup, tipping it over her waffles.

After a moment Jack got up and she looked up at him, her fork perched on her plate.

"I better get going," He said, picking up his plate (he barely ate anything), and smiled, and she recognized how forced it was (those smiles have been on her own face too many times to count, after all). "I'll see you later, okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. See you later."

He left and she let him go, and she sat there, alone, pressing her fork into the syrup and watching it ooze through the gaps.

He was gone and it was easier for her to breathe, but now there was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"You know, together, like you guys were."

She got up and scraped her breakfast off the plate and into the nearest garbage can.

"Hurley," She said, hanging back by the door to the kitchens and he turned to face her, pushing the bowl full of pancake batter away and wiping his hands on his apron.

"Hey, Kate. What's up?"

"I just wanted to apologize for what happened out there," She smiled, tucking her hands in the pockets of her now zipped up jumpsuit. "You were just telling the truth, and--"

"No, it's my fault," Hurley cut in, and her heart went out to him as he fidgeted awkwardly where he stood. "I didn't mean to make you or Jack upset. I shouldn't have said that."

"No," She shook her head, reassuring. "I'm glad you did."

The relief radiated from him and he turned back to the waffles, poking them with a fork and stacking them on plates.

"It's just weird," Hurley continued, hesitant. "I remember you guys always going on hikes into the jungle together. Now it's like you guys barely talk to each other anymore."

She reached up and rested a hand against the back of her neck, massaging the area. "It's complicated."

Hurley looked over at her. "He still loves you, though."

She frowned, looking away and fixing her eyes on the utensils lined up on the table. "What makes you say that?"

"He still looks at you like he used to."

She looked back at him, raising her eyebrows. "Like what?"

Hurley looked up, pondering. "Whenever he saw you, he looked a lot happier. It was like you were the only person he wanted to see."

All she could do was stare at Hurley, and, seeing the look on her face, he grinned and added, "Dude, I know. I've seen it, like, a million times."

She looked down at the floor; she didn't understand why she wouldn't tell Hurley to stop, that she didn't want to talk about this, but somehow, what he said to her made the ache diminish a little.

"Do you still love him too?"

His blunt words startled her and Hurley's eyes gazed into hers, curious.

For the life of her, she couldn't find the words to respond.

"Then everything will be okay," Hurley said, and she couldn't help it, she grinned.

"You're really… honest, Hurley."

Hurley laughed, lifting up a tray laden with waffles. "I know. I think I get it from my mom."

He winked at her as he walked past her out the door and the sadness suddenly wasn't as painful.

"It's fine," She said, and it was not a lie.

Juliet smiled and she could detect the relief in it, in her eyes.

Then Sawyer showed up and his eyes met hers, his face softening, and she knew that look, she had seen it many times before (because she hurt him), and she looked away, because she would not give him hope for something she knew (and he too, deep down) wouldn't happen.

Not this time.

Then he retreated and was out of her sight and Juliet turned briskly to her, getting back to business, and she listened.

"Why did you come back?"

Sawyer gazed at her, his face eager and desperate, and she didn't know what to say because she could already tell what he was thinking (assuming), the words that were being held back behind his lips.

Was I the reason you came back?

She looked down, fazed, her brain whirring over ways she could possibly answer him.

"Why, Kate?"

"I don't know why everyone else came back," His insistence made her look levelly at him, revealing the truth (well, part of it). "I just know why I did."

He waited and she stared back at him, then they were interrupted by a burning DHARMA van crashing into a house (out of all the interruptions, this had to be it), and the moment was broken.

Once again, she got her escape, because whatever she would have decided to say, he would only know one thing, the one thing that she would not say outright.

I didn't come back for you.

The fire was put out and everyone gathered around, shocked and afraid, except for the injured, who were being taken to the infirmary, and her eyes found Jack's in the crowd without effort.

He had a smudge of ash on his cheek and he nodded at her and she knew what that meant (you okay?), and she nodded back (yeah, I'm fine).

Horace began to speak (someone let him out of his cell, it was one of us), and she edged her way around some people to reach Jack (she could feel his eyes on the back of her head, she knew it was him, but she didn't look back).

She came to stand near Jack, a little behind him, and he turned a little at her presence, looking over at her, his eyes searching, undoubtedly, for any sign of an injury.

Knowing his concern made her heart hurt more (if that was even possible at this point).

Then, apparently assured of her well-being, he turned away, following the crowd's gaze on Horace at the center.

In turn, she studied him, trying to find anything wrong with him, if he was hurt in any way (she saw him hose down the house as the flames licked at it and flickered across his face), but he wasn't, of course he wasn't.

His arms hung limply at his sides and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and grasp his hand, to feel his fingers close over hers in comfort and protection.

But then she remembered before (you okay?; I am now) and she stopped herself from taking that step forward and closed her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms, but the pain she felt wasn't over that.

"You're telling us we're under house arrest?"

Jack's voice shattered the quietness of the room and she folded her arms against herself, watching.

Miles stood his ground. "Everyone is suspicious now. It's not just you guys; all the new recruits are under house arrest."

"Where's Sawyer?" She asked, moving closer to the couch.

"He can't risk talking to you guys right now," Miles responded, the impatience evident in his voice. "Everyone is being evaluated, even him. So he sent me here to keep guard. All you need to do is stay put and keep quiet."

Miles plopped himself down on a chair as he said this, and it couldn't have been more clear that the conversation was over.

She could tell by the look on Jack's face that he wanted to say something more, but he must have thought better of it, because then he sighed and dropped back onto the couch next to Hurley.

Jack looked up at her and she looked back.

After a few seconds they looked away, him leaning back and her approaching the window and peeling back the curtain to look through the blinds, the message relayed to each other through their eyes.

Then I guess we'll just have to wait.

She freed her hair from the ponytail as she sat on the side of the bed, letting it tumble down her back and to her waist.

It had only been a day and already she had found herself bothered by a restlessness, a need to find out something, to do something.

"Kate."

Jack's voice broke through her thoughts and her eyes fell on him.

He was standing in the doorway, his hair wet from a shower, his jumpsuit having been replaced by blue jeans and a dark blue t-shirt.

His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes roamed over her face in concern. "You okay?"

She ran her hand through her hair one last time, resting her hands in her lap. "Yeah. I just…"

She trailed off, shrugging.

"What?"

She smiled up at him. "Seeing Miles and Hurley play chess for the tenth time got a little boring."

He smiled back at her, his face brightening, and she knew it was because he could see she was in a good mood. " I know what you mean. Well, that, and staring at the door."

He continued to wait in the doorway, tentative (always), not knowing whether to move forward.

She hated it.

He looked down for a moment due to the lull in their conversation, his hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck (she knew that gesture; he only did it when he was unsure or nervous) and it hit her again, that desire, that desperate wish for them to close this distance.

"What is it, Kate?"

His eyes were sad now, tinged with understanding, patience, every kind emotion she didn't deserve, and she pressed her lips together, looking down at her hands.

The floor creaked a little as he entered the room and moved towards her, sitting on the bed next to her.

"Everything's going to be okay," Jack said, and there was something in his voice, something she couldn't place, but she knew that he meant that statement in more ways than one. "We'll find a way out of this."

She glanced up at him as he peered at her and she nodded, her lips curling up into a smile. "I know."

His arm moved around her back, threading through her hair, and she leaned into him, letting her head lay in the crook of his neck.

His hand slid down her thick waves of hair, fingers curling around the ends, and he murmured, amused, "Your hair's gotten really long."

She smiled (it didn't feel forced this time) and moved her arm around his back as well, bringing her hand to rest against where she knew his scar was (she traced it many times before). "Your hair smells like apples."

He chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head, and the memory came out of nowhere (I have to know that you've got my back; I've got your back), and her eyes burned as she exhaled and she felt that they were truly in the same place this time.

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