False Awakening
He'd watch her from afar. He knew her daily pattern. It never changed. He liked to say what she would do before doing it. He knows her so well. Yet at the same time he doesn't, because this is just simple observation. He doesn't know her favourite meal, or TV show. He doesn't know how she likes to sleep; on her side, her back, stomach? These are the things people, he, should know if he really, truly knew her. But for now, he knows her. He knows how everyday she carefully steps off the front porch, he doesn't know why she always looks first, takes tentative steps like suddenly it'll move. But she does. And he knows that. He knows she always shuts her garden gate by turning round and facing it. Not a simply swift movement, when you move your arm behind your back and pull it shut, while keeping your eyes ahead of you. No, she doesn't do that, she turns fully and shuts it.
But today, today is different. Her routine that had been the same for so long changed. He slid down the leather car seat, just so he was out of her view, but he could still keep a watchful eye on the women that at one time he loved. And he often questions himself. Does he still? If not, why is he here?
He watches as today she doesn't take extra care stepping off the porch steps and she doesn't turn fully round to shut the gate. Its fast and smooth, like she's done it before, but he hasn't seen. He watches as she doesn't even bother to look left and right when crossing the road, how she steps straight out oblivious to whether cars are coming.
Then suddenly she's in her car. Slamming the door sharp and fast, and then its unexpectedly hurtling down the road. He quickly puts his into gear and follows.
Before long their somewhere were he remembers. He knows this place all to well. She's walking in. The automatic doors opening as she stalks to a nearby lift. He takes note how she doesn't go to reception. She's walking the path of a women that knows were she's going. He imagines she's walked this floor before. She's been here before.
There on the third floor. Its quiet. Too quite. He can smell the familiar scent of disinfectant, he can hear her shoes squeak against the polished white floor. She's slows down. Stops. She looks through the glass window, he's too scared to approach further. To see what she's looking at. But then, she enters. The door squeaks as she opens it, light comes pouring out. Then nothing. He's back to the dim light of the corridor. He himself walks to the window, daring himself to look in. See who she's visiting.
He's face to face with the glass now, his ragged reflection staring back at him through the small window. He shakes his head. Is this a joke? He steps back. Now he's stumbling, running, tripping over his feet to get out. He needs to feel the rush of the California breeze against his skin, he needs to taste the air. The automatic doors open, as his need to feel to breeze increases, but then he realises, he cant feel those things. He can see the tops of the trees moving, drifting left with the direction of the wind.
But he cant feel it.
He was Jack. The hero. The protector. The guardian. The Oceanic six survivor.
This man, stood high up on a bridge, this was not Jack. This was the man he has become. Desperate and weak. Alone and scared.
The wind makes him sway. Maybe its urging him to jump? Get it over with, because he cant find what he's looking for in the bottom of a glass. Just like his father couldn't. Like father like son some people may say. But he was never like him. He was driven and focused. Determined and strong. Not now though. Now you could maybe say that, yes, he has become the man he didn't ever want to be. Drunken and Isolated. Powerless and distant.
The wind whips around him again. His legs bend with it, and he can feel himself falling, tumbling, free-wheeling through the air. Then he can hear his body hit the ground. Hard and Fast. Loud and Clear. His eyes open and he's still stood on the high platform, simply gazing down. For now all he can do is imagine what it would be like. What it would feel like. Realisation hits him hard. He's weak. He's scared. That's why he cant do it. That's why he cant jump.
Reminding himself he has nothing left. Nothing left to live for, to wake up for, his legs bend again. He leans over the side a little and he removes one foot from the solid, concrete bridge. He lets the fear in, he lets it take control.
"One… Two… Three… Four… Five."
Somebody rings her. She doesn't know why. She doesn't care, her priority now is to get to the hospital, and fast. Grabbing her bag and coat, she stumbles down the porch steps, stalking down the path to the garden gate, she pulls it open, sharp and fast before closing it just the same.
She's in the car. Turning the corners of the streets that she doesn't know particularly well. She's never needed the hospital route before. And she's there all to soon, striding through reception straight into the lift, to the floor they've told her to come directly to.
Then she's inside his room, its brighter than the corridor, the blinds are up, she can see the trees, it's a nice view. But it brings back memories. Caught in a net. Happier times, but for him, or her? Then, in the far corner, she can see him, laid motionless in the single bed, the checked covers draped over his lifeless body. His head bandaged, face bruised, arm in cast. It looks bad. That's all she can think. All the passes, rushes through her mind. But he's alive, and that's what matters.
A tap at the door makes her turn sharply. A nurse. She comes further into the room, they exchange silent glances, she smiles weakly. Its forced. Its rehearsed.
She pulls the small, cushioned chair further to his bed, ignoring the nurse stood by the bleeping machine. She cant do anything. She cant tell her what exactly made this man do what he did. So for now, she ignores her.
"Hey…" She whispers, noticing the nurse look at her sympathetically out of the corner of her eye. "Its me…Kate." Her voice chokes, tears escape her eyes and she doesn't know why. He's alive. That word sticks in her mind. He's alive. She turns and watches as the nurse leaves, the door clinks shut only to be opened seconds later.
"Miss Austin?" She turns at the sound of the voice that's soft and patient. Her hands automatically wipe the tears away as she stands and greets the women.
"Yes…" She takes a few steps closer, almost mimicking the women, who neatly tucks her short brown hair behind her ear. She's tall, her stance is authoritive, as she clutches hold of a white clip board in her right hand. She quickly moves it across into the left, before extending her hand and introducing herself.
"I'm Doctor Williams, we spoke on the phone…" Kate accepts her hand, a brief shake, before she pulls away, turning her attention back to Jack.
"Yes, yes erm…when will he wake up?"
"That's the thing, he slipped into a coma, waking up will be a matter of time, now this could be hours, days, weeks, months, even years, but were hopeful" She explained, her voice the same unfaltering tone as she walked further into the room, to a stunned Kate who simply turned and looked at Jack.
"He can hear me though right?" Kate asks, sitting back down in the cream seat, her back hunched over, her arms resting on her legs as if they were to heavy to hold. Almost as if she was preparing for the worst.
"We like to think he can" Kate turned, would she ever get a straight answer? She watched as Doctor Williams turned quickly, before turning back on her heel to face her once again. "I'm not supposed to say this really, but…if your looking for hope, you wont find it here, but I…I believe in it and a little tip, talk to him, read, they say it helps" She smiled. Turned. A nod as she closed the door, leaving her once again alone with him.
"Why?…" She gripped his hand, wanting an answer, almost demanding one. "Why?!" Her voice rose and she was no longer sad or felt pity for him. She was angry and she needed an answer. She needed to know what would make him do this? What would push him to do this?
Then, her heart leapt, her eyes lifted from the blankets her head was resting on. His hand moved. His fingers. They flickered up. Was he waking?
Ok, thanks to everyone who has read this, please let me know how it was. Good? Bad? Worth more? Ok so if anyone doesn't know what a false awakening is; its an event in which someone dreams they have awoken from sleep. This illusion of having awakened is very convincing to the person. After a false awakening, people will usually dream of performing daily morning rituals, believing they have truly awakened. They could be anywhere doing anything. Thanks to xKatie-Bearx who read this chapter for me and generally helps me make decisions- mainly about posting or not. Anyway your great! Thank you :D