Walking through the jungle, Jack and Elle took swift and stealthy strides, making good time toward their destination, the hatch. Along the way, they made idle chitchat but the conversation turned serious when Jack insisted,

"Someday, you're going to tell me where a woman like you learned to use a gun."

Thinking back to the day she first held a gun in her hands, her demeanor turned sour at the thought of Sully. She was young and naïve and needed someone to save her from her mess of a life. Noticing the look on her face, Jack regretted asking. Telling her he only meant to make conversation, he apologized.

"Nah, it's not like you had any idea," she swallowed, "but it's something I rather not think about."

Chasing back the ghost from her past, she told him about her earlier life, which had nothing to do with using guns. She was nineteen and working in a shady area of Jersey where crime was the norm and working for a bookie kept her pockets full and her neck cranked from the constant looking over her shoulder.

"If you owed him money, I was the one who got it."

"I obtained the cash using any means necessary," she laughed, "which usually meant I used my feminine wiles."

Jack, uncomfortable at her disclosure, asked her,

"Why are you telling me this?"

Letting down her guard, she let out a distressed sigh,

"Because I miss him."

Realizing she meant Sawyer, Jack once again felt secondary. It was the way it always was for him. He came second to his father's first, alcohol, and he came second to his wife, because she left him for another man. However, he didn't want to be the replacement. He didn't feel comfortable in Sawyer's skin, how could he? He's untamed, he thought to himself. Thinking back on one of their first encounters, Sawyer's words crept along his skin. You're still in civilization, Doc. I'm in the wild.

"I'm not him, Elle." Jack looked at her; his words hit her like a slap in the face.

"That's for damn sure, Jack."

"I could talk to him about everything and he didn't judge me."

"You should see your face, Jack. Every word I say, there's disapproval and judgment in your eyes."

Elle began to dissect the moment, accusing Jack. She accused him of thinking she was a whore collecting money for some greedy bookie. I never, ever whored around for money, Jack; she threw the words back in his face. If you knew anything about me, you would know that's not who I was. That's not who I am. She raged on about how bad things were for her when she was a kid and how they only got worse as she got older. I would have been raped and killed if I didn't take matters into my own hand. No man would take that from me.

"Elle, Elle, calm down." Jack urged her.

"No, Jack, I have to get this out." she explained she was tired of the misconceptions and accusations from people's eyes, especially his.

"Why do I matter so much," he asked her. "Why does any of that matter, now?"

"Because the way I see it," she began, "we all matter to the ones we depend on."

Jack, taken aback by her confession, nodded sympathetically, for her to continue.

"I was under the bookie's protection, however I was also known to those who owed him, as The Collector. One day I was on my way home, a home my earnings provided me, when one of his disgruntled customers came up from behind me and forced me into my apartment. The smell on his breath, oh God, makes my stomach turn every time I smell whiskey."

Elle took a breath. The look on Jack's face was one of uneasiness and angst. He wanted her to stop talking about it; he knew what was coming next. Or so he thought. Telling her she didn't need to go into further details, to protect her from shame, he wound up offending Elle.

"I wasn't raped, Jack."

Her voice, was small and meek, unusual for Elle, he thought to himself. Taking a few deep breaths, Elle continued.

"What happened that night was worse…I took that man's life."

Jack stopped abruptly, her disclosure not what he anticipated. He felt sorry for Elle; she was so young to go through something like that. A small part of him feared what Elle could do to someone. He had seen her handle her own, when it came to Ethan that night in the jungle. Honestly, he didn't know what to say to her. Her face was haggard and anguish shadowed her eyes. Elle sat down on a downed tree stump and held her head in her hands. Jack took a seat next to her and sat there with her, the silence was overwhelming.

"Say something," she whispered, "anything."

Jack couldn't find the words, there wasn't anything he could think of that would help console her, so he did the one thing he knew wouldn't fail. Jack reached over and took a hold of Elle's hand. Even though his touch was foreign to her, Elle missed the nights where Sawyer would just hold her. She allowed Jack to take her hand in his, wary that she shouldn't have…but she needed it. Jack held her hand, gently caressing her moistened skin and he never said a word. Together they sat there, forgetting why they were trekking back to the hatch. Elle opened up to Jack that night, giving in to the malice of her past, allowing Jack to comfort her.

Sparing a few brief moments, Elle recomposed herself and together, Jack and Elle made their way closer to the hatch. Scanning the perimeter, they noticed that neither Locke nor Kate were anywhere to be found. A lone cable hung down the hatch's dark and unwelcoming shaft. Concern for Kate loomed in the air as Jack took one look at Elle and threw his legs over the side of the hatch and twisted his body as he shimmied down the cable. Once he hit bottom, he called up to Elle and she began her way down. The air in the shaft was stale, her lungs closing as the more she neared the bottom, and the more tightly the hatch's passageway seemed to close in around her. With a heavy foot, Elle dropped to a squatting position and scanned the tiny opening. They were standing in a shallow puddle, perhaps the hatch door had a leak, but as she slowly stood up, Elle had a small flashback of a basement her friend had where they would smoke cigarettes they had stolen from their moms' purses and listen to music from the 80's.

As if she cued the next moment, a song blasted down the corridor, causing both Jack and Elle to jump out of their skin. Elle couldn't place the song and by the look on Jack's face, he may have had an inkling as to who was playing. Before she could ask him, Jack began to head toward the sound of the music.

~You've gotta make your own kind of music~
~Sing your own special song~
~Make your own kind of music~
~Even if nobody else sings along~

"Hey Jack, you a fan of this?" she teased as she picked up her pace and took her spot at his side. Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, she saw him smile a bit.

"I think it's Mama Cass." he said, referencing one of the members of the Mamas and the Papas.

"Way before my time, grandpa." Elle rolled her eyes, exaggerating the word way, waving her hand in front of her face, signaling a decade of difference.

Momentary lapse in seriousness aside, they both took their guns and held them out in front of them. Jack noticed the Elle had a steady hand and was sweeping the area, the nozzle of the gun, leading her like radar. Jack, imagining Elle as a little girl, hunting for treasures in her backyard, thought to himself, I wonder if she used to walk around her backyard with a stick shaped like a Y, looking for water. They entered a room and Jack stood over an ancient computer, a green dot flashing on the screen. Scanning down to a button that said execute, curiosity got the best of Jack and he was tempted to press it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jack." Locke's voice boomed directly across the room; the music had played out. He stood in front of them, but Kate was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Kate, John?" Jack asked, his words coated with suspicion. His voice held a moment, but Elle noticed a slight tremble. A gun appeared at the back of John's head and a wiry man stood behind John, using him as a shield.

"Lower your gun, Brotha," the man said, his accent reminiscent of a Scottish actor Elle loved. Elle, postured her gun towards the man,

"Tsk, tsk, you first, brotha." Mocking him, she was quick to realize, wasn't a bright idea as he shoved his gun deeper into John's back.

Surprised to see a slender figure move silently behind the mystery Scotsman, the butt of a shotgun smashed into the back of his head, causing him to discharge his weapon. The bullet ricocheted through Elle's arm and made a home in the computer. Grasping her wound with her right hand, never allowing her gun to fall from her grasp, Elle let out a painful moan.

"Son-of-a-b…" she bit her lip, blood pouring down her arm. She faltered and crashed to her knees.

Jack straddled the crazy-haired man who was screaming he had to fix the computer or they were all going to die. Elle began to laugh uncontrollably and stared through him.

"We're all going to die because that piece of trash is smokin'?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I think I may be the first to bleed out here!"

Switching places with Kate, Jack moved briskly towards the fallen Elle. Ripping her sleeve to get a better look at her injury, he made note that the bullet was a through and through, just missing the brachial artery. Elle tried her hardest to avoid the sight of her very own blood, but she felt a cold sweat take over her body, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

"Don't you dare pass out!" Jack slapped his hand against her cheek lightly, trying to get Elle to come back around. Shouting to John that he needed something to tie off her wound, Jack laid Elle out flat, raising her legs slightly so her blood would circulate. As Kate guarded the man, Desmond, Jack attended to Elle.

The men took their spots over their similar tasks; Desmond took his place by the damaged computer and Jack took his spot over the wounded Elle. Kate volunteered Sayid to fix the computer and Desmond told her how to get out without having to climb back up the shaft. Kate frozen in place after seeing Elle's body sprawled out on the floor, was snapped back to reality by Jack's voice.

"Kate," he yelled, "Kate, go!" Elle had yet to come around, even though Jack was doing all he could. Desmond, a bizarre attraction to his computer, stammered out an apology.

"Your lady friend, going to be okay, yeah?" Anger filled Jack and he went towards the man. John stood in between them and Jack shot him an accusatory glance. Not able to get the computer to work, Desmond accidentally cut the power out.

"It's over, mates." Desmond began frantically packing a bag and headed toward the door.

Unsure what was going on, Locke began screaming toward the man, begging him to stay, to help out, to do something! Desmond wished them all luck and left. Locke stood there, his mouth hanging open, looking toward Jack for some reassurance. Jack had nothing left to give the man. Scooping up Elle into his arms, he told John that he was on his own. He needed to get Elle back to the caves, she needed antibiotics, and he needed to stitch her up.

"This isn't what was supposed to happen!" Locke shouted as tears began to brim his eyes in frustration as Jack walked out the door, Elle unconscious in his arms.

Making his way through the jungle, Jack saw Desmond darting back and forth through the brush. Desmond tripped and looked up at Jack, telling him something about a code.

"What are you talking about?" Jack was infuriated. All he wanted was to pull his gun on Desmond, but he couldn't, not with Elle in his arms.

"If you do get the computer to work again, brotha, you have to enter 4-8-15-16-23-42 and then push Execute."

Not believing he was still talking about the computer, Jack told him to shut up. Desmond looked at Jack and began to spill out information about how they first met. Reminiscing about their jog in the stadium, he recalled something about a woman Jack thought he had failed; Desmond asked Jack what happened to her. Desmond asked Jack if the girl was okay. Repeating the words, it doesn't matter to Desmond's questions, Jack finally cracked.

"I married her!"

With a simple nod and a nonchalant see ya in another life, Desmond left as quickly as he had come into their lives. Jack broke down crying. Not understanding how any of this was possible, he shifted Elle's weight in his arms, and turned around. He heard a slight whimper and looked down at Elle. Her eyes fluttered open and she attempted to speak.

"You're going to be okay," Jack started, "you fainted."

"I'll take care of you," he promised her, "but there's something I have to do first." Jack began to walk back to the hatch. Elle spoke, her mouth dry.

"You…were…," Elle coughed a bit, "married?"

Nodding yes, Jack smirked.

"Guess that answers the question of whether or not the unconscious can hear us."

"Anyway…I…can assist the medical profession," she stammered before she passed out again due to a loss of blood.