A/N: This is for Liesbeth on her 19th birthday. I really hope you like my present! I got the inspiration from a conversation on FanForum about Jack smelling Kate's hair when she hugged him in The Beginning of the End.

Disclaimer: Don't own Lost or the characters.

He remembered that day clearly, too clearly sometimes, with an ache that seemed to rip out his very heart. He recalled the way her long locks framed the curve of her throat perfectly. Its smooth whiteness longed to be touched and caressed, and it was, he thought; he had trailed light feather kisses down her jugular too many times to count, and he rocked with the shivers that accompanied that recollection. Her hair had blow faintly in the wind, making her seem like some wild thing, like some spirit caught in the breeze. There for him, to sew him up; to fix the fixer. He'd have never believed that then, but now, three years later, he knew that their meeting wasn't an accident or coincidence; it wasn't a seemingly random event. This was fate; she was his destiny, and yet it seemed like something or someone would always be in the way.

Days later, she ran to him, practically knocking the air right out of his lungs as she embraced him with so much fervor that he couldn't help but feel safe and loved, a feeling that was so foreign to him that his skin warmed to the newness of the sensation. He murmured something about his shoulder, but to be honest, he didn't really feel the pain; her hair pressed against his face seemed to be an intoxicating substance. Though sweaty and tangled, he still felt the softness of it against his cheekbone. She smelled like guava fruit and dirt and something else, but as quick as she had hugged him, she was gone, leaving only the ghost of her touch and scent behind.

When he grabbed her, he told himself that he was doing it to comfort her, but deep down he knew he just wanted to feel her pressed flush up against him again. He could almost moan thinking about how her small arms had encircled his neck weeks before; now at times, it seemed like they were so distant that he thought they may never be able to close the gap. And though he often told himself this was for the better, his heart, his body, his soul told him otherwise, until the longing for her was so intense it seemed to eat up his very insides. She didn't respond quite like he would have hoped, but just having her close again, caused his heart to speed up at an alarming rate; her hair trailing down her back felt like velvet on his skin, and he caught the scent of it at last. To him, it smelled a lot like home, but better; like fresh laundry out of the dryer, fruit salad drizzled with honey, a sickeningly sweet summer day when he and his mother and father would go on picnics before work got in the way. It was perfect. She broke away. He hardly knew what she was saying and what he was saying in return, and then like lightening, in a flash her lips were on his, and the heat spread like wildfire to his core. He could hardly keep up with her ferocity as she caressed his face and kissed him with all the passion and longing that he in turn felt for her. He never wanted it to end, but end it did, and before he could even take a shaky breath she was gone. And yet, the taste of her lingered.

Here she was kneeling before him, and the very woman he could hardly stop thinking about had now become the woman who he could barely stand to look at. He guessed in many respects that it wasn't her fault they were in this situation; he was the one who had pushed her away time and time again, but to look at her was like to swallow fire. It burned like hell, and yet still left a pleasurable warmth in the pit of his stomach. When she had taken his hands in hers, he momentarily forgot everything. Like a healing balm, her touch seemed to sooth the burns deep inside, and when he was finally able to make eye contact, his stomach did a flip-flop as her eyes looked profoundly into his. He glanced a look at her lips; oh, to have them on his again! He was pretty sure he'd give anything to feel her warm, soft upper lip between his, to feel her tongue in the deepest crevices of his mouth. But then Juliet walked in, releasing him from his ruminations, and when he turned back she was gone. He got up from his chair, his words coming out painfully as he choked back the tears that threatened to fall, and leaned down to breath in his last scent of her, just like she heard him breathe his last words to her. And he realized as he felt her hair against his skin that even though he was going home, nothing would be quite like home like she was.

Time slipped away; like tendrils of her hair, it seemed to go on and on forever, and yet, it was something that he could never tangibly latch onto. Even now, as her head rested on his bare stomach, her once straight hair now curling lightly from the humidity of the room, he could feel her slipping away just like the tips of her hair fell through his fingers as he stroked it. Her soft breath on his skin gave him goosebumps all over his body and as he closed his eyes he went back to just a half an hour before. Her ragged breathing against his ear, her faint moans as he pushed deeper and deeper inside her, until he felt her tighten around him and finally release, her quivering breath causing him to follow right after. Her hair fell like curtains around his face, and he felt himself almost harden again instantly as her sweet smell filled his lungs. Here she was, here to take, home at last, and yet, he still felt so far away.

Here it was, the chasm between them, the reason they could never make it work, the island, his purpose, but suddenly, it was her purpose, her desire to return, and then she was kissing him, carnal moans filling her throat and bubbling into his, until he could hardly breathe from the ecstasy. Her hair, tied back, seemed to be mocking him in its restraint. He hurried fast with the tie, and buried his nose into her silky tresses, nibbling lightly on her ear and neck. All he wanted was to have that piece of home with him on the journey; it didn't really matter where he was.

She was home, and yet, he must turn away. The ache in his stomach almost overpowered him daily; it was almost easier when he believed she no longer cared for him, he could almost convince himself of it, and the strain on his chest seemed a little lessoned for it. But she came back to him, and he knew he could never be with her; like a tether, he was being pulled in the opposite direction from her, towards a path where they might not even meet. And yet, there was a new part of him, like a blazing fire deep within his chest that believed beyond anything that they would find each other again; for she was his home, the place where his heart was.

Please review! any comment is welcomed :D