Mr. Bright Side

But she's touching his chest now

He takes off her dress now

Let me go

And I just can't look,

It's killing me

And taking control

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking your alibis

The orchestra was warming up and the lights were glowing with dim warmth, the smell of flowers was in the air, and Jack's tuxedo was making his neck itch, just under the collar. He adjusted it for what felt like the one millionth time and prowled through the crowd, looking for Kate. People smiled at him as he passed, and whispered to each other. Some raised champagne glasses to him in a congratulatory greeting.

Jack tried to smile back, but he was sweating, and he felt nervous.

Up ahead, he saw his mother, talking to a woman he didn't know. Approaching quietly, he touched her shoulder. When she spun around he could see how completely happy she was, and that made him happy too. She'd never been quite the same after his father had died. That added to her only son getting in a plane crash had definitely changed her demeanor, and Jack hadn't seen her this happy in years.

"Oh there you are; we were just discussing you. You remember Mrs. Hamil, don't you?"

Jack nodded, even though he didn't remember meeting any Mrs. Hamil anywhere. She was a tall woman, with a thin, long face, and eyes that were set low on her face and seemed to be sunken. Her dark hair was boring, and she was wearing all black. It was no surprise he didn't remember her. But he smiled and said politely, "How have you been?"

Mrs. Hamil just nodded and took a swig of champagne.

That was odd, and sort of rude, so Jack turned back to his mother, "Hey, uh, have you seen Kate anywhere?"

Mrs. Shephard made a face as if thinking. "Not for a while, no. I believe the last time I saw her she said she was going out to get some fresh air."

Jack couldn't help going breathless over that. Kate had spent the last four and a half years in LA, never moving, despite her instinctive urge to run, she was a good mother, and she thought of Aaron before she considered anything else. But he still couldn't help feeling worried whenever she disappeared. He couldn't get past the uneasy feeling that some day she was going to run again.

"Thanks, Mom." Smiling one last time at his mother, and then at Mrs. Hamil, Jack hurried away to find Kate, rushing past well wishers who got in his way. He acquired a glass of champagne on his way.

He'd been sober a long time. Over a year to be exact. After he'd lost Kate, it had driven him to the edge of despair, a time in his life when he'd felt almost completely useless. Living on the island had given him sort of a heroic dynamic he hadn't realized he had until his life on the island was behind him. But once he'd realized just how insignificant he was to the big, cold world, he'd put all his value into his relationship with Kate. When she'd left him because of his substance abuse problems, it had nearly sent him to suicide.

But now he was sober again, and all of that was behind him. Sacrifices had been made to ensure his happiness, as well as Kate's happiness, but Jack realized, with some shame, that he hadn't been the one to make those sacrifices.

Jack burst through the doors of the hotel and looked around a little frantically, the urge to shout her name almost more than he could bear. But he stopped himself.

Kate was just a few yards away, her dress and hair blowing in the wind, arms folded, back to him. She looked beautiful in the night atmosphere.

With a sigh, he walked up to her, "Kate, what are you doing?"

"Just came out to get some air." She smiled at him, that adorable smile that he was so familiar with. The smile he loved. "You know. Crowds."

"Right, I know." He put his arm around her, and they stood there in silence, together. The city lights were brilliant all around them, the sounds of LA filling every crevice of the night, and Jack felt such swelling happiness he could barely contain it.

Just a few more days.

And then everything would be perfect.

Only one doubt remained.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

Kate tilted her head to look at him, "Why would you ask me that?"

He shrugged, "Most women are excited."

"I am excited, Jack."

"So," he looked her in the eyes, "you want to do this, right?"

"Of course I do." She smiled, and kissed his lips softly.

He tried to smile back, but didn't manage it very well. It had been hard convincing Kate to do this, and he knew all too well why that was. But there was nothing he could do about it. She wasn't exactly the kind of woman that was easy to tie down. Besides that, there was always the fear that her heart was somewhere else.

"It's been over a year." Jack murmured. "If you-"

"I'm not waiting for him." Her voice sounded sincere, but it was quiet. "I know he's not coming back. Not this time."

Jack ran his hand along her arm, enjoying the silky quality of her bare skin. There were so many uncertainties. He'd done this before. She'd done this before. Neither had turned out well. And as long as Sawyer was out there, Jack knew there was no guarantee that Kate would always be his. Whatever it was about the con artist that got Kate's blood pumping, it wasn't going to just stop. Jack got the feeling that if Sawyer ever came back, and if he wanted to take Kate from Jack, he probably could. Just waltz in with all his ruffian-styled charm and his obnoxious, dimpled smile, and there goes Kate with him.

But the doctor didn't think that was going to happen. Sawyer had told him himself that he was never coming back, that they'd never see him again, and Jack didn't doubt it. Wherever the con artist was, he was probably living it up—robbing people blind, taking what he wanted, smoozing sex and money from whatever beautiful woman he crossed paths with. Even Sawyer had to know that was not much of a life. Hopefully when he finally figured that out he wouldn't come back to LA, hoping to start over with Kate.

"Let's go back inside." Jack said quietly.

Kate smile at him, "Okay."

Hand in hand, they went back into the hotel, but instead of going back to the party, they walked around, down to the pool, through the empty dining room, through some of the empty halls.

"Your mother seems happy." Kate said casually, but Jack could hear that the words were difficult for her to say, especially since her own mother wasn't attending the wedding and had no part in Kate's life at all.

"She is. Very excited."

"She just doesn't know what she's getting into." Kate teased.

Jack laughed. "No. I guess she doesn't."

"Your father would be proud too. Don't you think?"

The doctor looked away. It was stupid, but even after nearly five years, thinking about his father, Christian Shephard, was painful. "Yeah. I think so."

He said that, but he really wasn't sure what would have made Christian proud if he were still alive. He had never seemed proud of his only son when he was alive, no matter what he'd done. He'd never had faith in Jack. And the only evidence Jack had that Christian had been even slightly proud, or had loved his son, was a few scattered, childhood memories, and a vicarious message delivered by Sawyer. Whatever the truth was, it didn't matter now.

"I guess we should go back in and mingle."
Jack shrugged, "I'm just about ready to go home."

"Me too."

"Who did you get to babysit?"

"Maria."

"The girl from down the street?"

"She does a good job."

"Of course she does."

Kate grinned and started to say more.

A few rooms ahead of them, there was suddenly shouting, and a door burst open. A maid came out, shouting rapidly in Spanish so that the voice of the person she was arguing with was drowned out, then she turned away and started stomping toward them, still clucking to herself I her own language. She was matronly and somewhat overweight, and she was holding a denim jacket in her hands. Jack saw a large splotch of dark red on the sleeve.

Something about the jacket was familiar, and he stopped the maid, "Excuse me. Is someone hurt?"

The maid scowled and began rambling, half in Spanish, half in English.

"Woah, woah, slow down. What's going on?"

"He loco!" The woman slapped her forehead, then tilted her head back, acting like she was drinking something. "I offer I should call the policia. No, no—no policia. I offer I should call ambulance. No, no—no medico. I tell you, Senor, he is loco."

"I'm a doctor," Jack said automatically, "if you go call the ambulance I can at least-"

"You medico?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm a doctor."

"Ah, si, si. Senor. I call ambulancia." She dropped the coat on the floor and hurried away, and Jack paused to look at it. It was a fairly standard, denim jacket. It didn't mean anything.

He walked toward the room where the maid had emerged from, stripping off his tuxedo jacket as he did so.

Kate giggled, "Jack, what are you doing?"

"I just want to make sure he's okay."

"We've got to get back to the party. They'll be wondering where we are."

"This will only take a second, Kate."

Still smiling, Kate rolled her eyes and followed.

Jack pushed the door open, not sure what to expect: someone was hurt obviously, but how bad and from what was still up in the air. If it was serious, maybe Jack could stabilize the man's condition before the ambulance arrived.

The doctor got to the threshold of the door and stopped suddenly.

Kate ran right into him.

The man sitting on the bed was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed in a pain-filled wince, breathing hard and clutching his left arm. His dirty blonde hair was cut so that it fell just above the collar, and some of it was in his eyes, shadowing his forehead. His face was clean cut and he was dressed in nice, black pants and a white dress shirt, the top three buttons undone. The sleeve of the left arm was bloody, and there was a bottle of alcohol sitting on the floor beside a black briefcase.

Sawyer looked exactly the way he had almost two years ago, overlooking the fact that he looked like a businessman.

In the same instant, Jack and Kate surged forward.

"Oh my God. Is he okay?"

Before either of them could touch him though, Sawyer came to life, eyes opening, revealing the flare of blue that looked almost black with anger, his lips curled back in a slight snarl, white teeth knife-bright, and then he pulled a gun out of the folds of his clothes and held his good arm out stiff as a board, and Jack was looking down the barrel of a nine millimeter.

"S-Sawyer!"

A second later, the con artist seemed to recognize them, lowered his gun slightly and his eyes cleared up. A shaky grin, "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

"Sawyer," Jack tried to find the right words, looked around, not sure how to make sense of all this, "what are you doing here? What happened to you?"

"Are you all right?" Kate demanded, her voice trembling with worry.

"Nice ta' see ya'll too." Sawyer pushed himself up off the bed, moaning from the strain that put on his arm.

"What happened?" Jack asked again, trying to get a better look at the arm.

"No time for that." Sawyer shoved past them a little roughly, holding his gun up at the ready and leaning around the corner. "Did anybody follow ya'?"

"Follow us?" Jack exchanged glances with Kate, "No. What do you mean? I don't think so."

"Just sit down." Kate ordered, "You're hurt."

The con artist ignored her, still peeking out of the room like he expected someone to start shooting at him. Jack could see that his trigger finger was trembling.

"James!" Kate snapped.

For the first time, Sawyer looked at her, sighing, then his eyes ran her up and down in a way that made Jack uncomfortable, and he attempted to smile again, "Well, Freckles, ya' sure look pretty tonight. What's the occasion?"

Jack spoke quickly, "She's right, Sawyer. Let me have a look at your arm—the ambulance is on its way. We-"

"Shut up!" Sawyer snarled suddenly, cocking the gun. "Both of ya'."

"Sawyer, I-"

"For the last time, Doc, hush."

Jack shook his head, sighed. He was about to just go out and see if the ambulance was coming, and then he heard a second gun cock.

There was a muffled pop, and the wood right next to Sawyer's head exploded.

Shouting an obscenity, Jack jumped back, grabbed Kate's arm, dragging her with him. "Sawyer, get down!"

But the con artist didn't move. He stood perfectly still, taking careful aim with his gun.

Another shot was fired.

"You idiot! Someone's shooting at you!"

Sawyer half-turned his head to glare at him, "Ya' think?"

A third shot, and suddenly Sawyer returned fire, letting loose three bullets. The shots were much louder than the enemy fire, and they echoed through the halls of the hotel like thunder. Jack heard people screaming.

"What are you doing?" Jack demanded.

Without answering, Sawyer suddenly ran from the room and bolted down the hall, gun raised, shouted back at them, "You two stay put."

"What's he doing?" Kate jumped up, looking frantic. "He's going to get himself killed."

Jack got up too, "You wait here."

But it was too late. Kate was already running after Sawyer.

Cursing, Jack followed.

They ran through the halls, pushing past terrified guests, weaving around people who had wandered into the hall, the sound of Sawyer's gun going off up ahead of them. Jack saw the maid from earlier, huddled in the lobby, a phone to her ear, a terrified look on her face.

"That idiot Sawyer." He muttered under his breath. What kind of trouble was the con artist in now that would get him in a gunfight in the middle of a hotel? And why did it have to be the hotel where they had planned their party?

Weird that they had just been discussing him, not fifteen minutes ago.

They ran past the room where their party was being held and Jack saw his mother standing there, looking worried. When she saw Jack she called to him, but he kept running.

Ahead of him, Sawyer ran through an emergency exit, out into the night, and Kate kicked off her high heels as she followed. Jack almost tripped over the shoes.

He went outside, just in time to see Kate rush around a corner. There was more gun fire, and a shrill, feminine scream, and then, suddenly, the firing stopped and everything was quiet.

Jack jogged forward, calling, "Kate? Sawyer?"

No one answered, and he ran a little faster, rounded the corner as quickly as he could.

Sawyer was standing at the side of the pool, shoulders heaving, gun at his side, and the body of a woman was lying at his feet. Kate was approaching quickly. The pool was sparkling blue, the peace of the surrounding area making the blood that was on the concrete seem extremely grotesque.

Jack ran forward and knelt beside the body, rolling it over and cursing. "Dammit. Dammit, Sawyer, what did you-" He cut himself off when he saw the horse face and sunken eyes. It was Mrs. Hamil, the woman his mother had introduced him too. "God," he choked, "God, Sawyer, what did you do? What the hell is wrong with you?" The pulse showed that she was dead, and there was a large bullet wound through her right breast.

"Sawyer…" Kate looked absolutely horrified.

"What is your problem?" Jack demanded, barely resisting the urge to put his fist in Sawyer's eye.

But even as the two of them stared at him, Sawyer bent to pick up the gun that was lying beside the body, put it into a large, plastic baggy, which he stuffed into his pocket.

"Why did you kill her? What is this all about?"

Still ignoring Jack, Sawyer pulled out what looked like a sophisticated walky talky. "This is Ford. Target is terminated."

There was a fuzzy reply, and Jack stared to demand what was going on, but Sawyer kept talking, "Two witnesses."

Kate gave Jack a worried look, "Witnesses?"

"Yes sir, northwestern side. Roger that."

He put the radio away, shoved his own gun into the back of his pants and finally looked at them, "Sorry ya'll had ta' see that. Prob'ly coulda' lived without that."

Furious, Jack got in his face, "Are you serious? You just shot a woman, someone we actually knew, right in front of us, and all you can say is 'sorry you had to see that?"

Sawyer shrugged, "Ain't much else ta' say, Doc."
"I think you need to explain this, Sawyer. Right now."

The con artist grinned.

"What the hell is so funny? I don't see anything funny about this!"

"Helluva greeting after almost two years, Jack. 'Specially considerin' the dire straits I was in last time I saw ya'." The grin expanded.

So he was still hiding the truth from Kate. Jack wondered what all of this had to do with Eric Hawkins.

"Sawyer," Kate spoke up, "what are you doing here? What's going on?"

The explosion of an engine kept Sawyer from answering, and then a pair of headlights came into view as a fairly large vehicle tore around the corner.

Out of instinct, Jack started to back away, holding onto Kate's hand. The vehicle stopped beside them. It was a large, black van without any writing on it, and the back windows were painted over.

Two more men in black suits with bright, white shirts got out; both were wearing sunglasses. The first man, a tall African American, pointed his gun at Jack and Kate, but spoke coolly, "All right, both of you, up against the van—legs spread, hands over your heads."

Neither of them moved.

"Officer," Jack started to explain, "there's been a misunderstanding, we…" he didn't want to rat Sawyer at, but he didn't see why they should be arrested for something he had done. "He-"

"Against the van!"

Jack looked as Sawyer. The second man, who was a little shorter and starting to go bald, had approached him.

"You all right, Ford?"

Sawyer glanced at Jack, then back at the man, "Dandy."

"We'll have a look at that arm when we get back."

"Sawyer, what's going on?" Jack demanded, watching as two more men got out of the back of the van and started to load the body onto a gurney. Sirens were blaring in the background.

"'Sall right, Doc, just do what the man says."

"No, not until I know what's going on!"

"You don't have a choice, Mr. Shephard." The balding man came over, flashing a badge, "Agent Muff, CIA."

"CIA?" Kate gasped. "Sawyer-"

Muff gave Sawyer a stern look, "I'll see you back at HQ, Ford."

Sawyer stared for a long time at Kate, and then nodded slowly, "Right. With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows.

Jack tried to resist as the men handcuffed his wrists and put a hood over his head, and then he was forced into the back of the van. "Where are you taking us?" Jack demanded. "We-"

"No time to explain, Doctor."

Angrier than ever, Jack attempted to object, but Muff's next words took the fight right out of him.

"Agent Shephard needs to speak with you."