THE BIGGEST LIE
(part two: the subway that only goes one-way)
by: AliLamba
rated: T/PG-13, for language and innuendo
thanks again: to MoonlightGardenias, for beta-ing
notes: Well...hmm. I've been told there's not much Jate going on yet. I guess I didn't really think about it much, as it's going to be almost exclusively Jate in two chapters. Does that ruin suspense? Er...well...you'll be there soon enough anyway, so yes. I fail at life.

Kate wrapped the terrycloth robe around herself snuggly, rubbing the luxurious fabric against her cheek. This small gesture surely wouldn't go unappreciated, probably not for the rest of her life, and in the emptiness of Claire Hume's expansive bathroom, Kate could realize this in peace.

There was a knock on the door.

"Hey, Monica?" Kate inwardly flinched at the fake name. Now that she was in their confidence, she almost wanted to tell them, but that would defeat the entire purpose of her sneaking in there, and she had trust issues anyway. "Hey, Nikki's called some places in town and is having them send over some clothes…"

Kate gasped, and crossed quickly to open the door, "Oh, no, really, you guys don't have to do that."

Claire smiled pleasantly, and nodded in understanding, "Yeah, I had a hard time getting used to it too."

Feeling color rise to her cheeks, Kate quickly flicked her gaze to her painted pink toenails. She should really start counting on Claire as an ally—she certainly liked the young heiress enough, and it seemed like Claire was equally eager to have a friend. But there was something that got stuck in the middle, and Kate couldn't let herself be completely unguarded with the girl. "Do you think the wine will come out of my dress?"

"Oh," Claire's voice was now confident, "I'm sure it will. Carmen's very good." Kate didn't ask who Carmen was, but it was apparently a given. "Oh! I almost forgot," Kate's gaze flicked up, "Dad wants to meet you."

Kate drew attention to the oversize robe wrapped around her, "Uh, I don't think I'm really dressed for the occasion…"

"Ah, don't worry about it. You know Jack and Desmond won't care."

"Desmond?" the intonation was clear, and Kate knew it. Claire grinned.

"I should've known." Kate froze, but Claire's smile assuaged her anxiety in its understanding. "Even if it's a bit awkward, I can at least acknowledge that he's a charming guy," the blonde's nose wrinkled as she leaned in towards Kate, "You know, the first time I ever met him, he was so drunk he started hitting on me." Kate laughed. "Yeah, I was like: 'hello, cousin, you're not supposed to notice my butt, okay.'"

Kate laughed again, and Claire's grin widened in appreciation. "You know, I like you, Monica. I'm really glad I met you today."

Her smile was genuine as Kate responded: "Me too."

Claire's smile hitched as she rolled her eyes, "God, men, right? They can be so awful…"

Kate nodded, and agreed past the guilt that started to squirm in her gut, "Yeah, it should've been the prince we turned into a toad, right?"

They shared a laugh, and then Claire convinced Kate to go downstairs. Kate learned quickly that not only had the Humes rented the entire castle for the week, but they were the majoritave owners ("Well, I think so, anyway," Claire had amended quickly, as they headed down a flight of stairs, "Though it's a bit bizarre, because I think we have some real estate around here somewhere…").

It turned out, more than just Christian wanted to see her, as Nikki, Desmond and Jack all looked up with the older man when Claire and Kate pushed open the sitting room door. Kate quickly hid a smile of appreciation as she watched Desmond look her up and down, obviously pleased with her choice of attire.

"You must be Monica," the men all stood, but Christian approached her and took her hand. "I really would like to offer an apology on behalf of my entire family. We had thought the Widmores were a bit more evolved than that." Everyone chuckled, even Kate.

"You say that to a girl not wearing any shoes, Mr. Shephard." At Kate's playful tone, Christian blanched, then looked down at her feet, and then laughed.

"Hey! You didn't tell me the girl had wit!" The elder Shephard shared a look with his son, and Kate sent Jack a surprised smile. But then she saw his face. There was a curl to his lip, and his eyes were cold. With a sudden pitch of dreaded realization, she knew that she may have fooled everyone else, but not Jack.

"We'd be honored to have you for dinner, Miss Callis." Desmond was standing by his second-cousin, a plush sitting chair between them. She tried not to look at Jack. Would he stop her? Would he stop Desmond?

"Oh, no, really, I can't…" Kate protested lamely, though she could feel her cheeks coloring at the mere invitation. She suddenly felt light-headed, and though she knew she was the subject of everyone's gaze, Jack's burned against her neck.

"Nonsense," Nikki interjected, striding past her husband to clasp both Kate's hands in hers, "It's just us family, and none of us minds."

"Well…" Looking cautiously to Desmond, who was smiling graciously, Kate tried to look like she was still sheepish about the idea, "So long as it's a pajama party…"

Everyone laughed again (even Jack raised his eyebrows, as if he were amused), and the conversation lulled into a reflection of the afternoon's festivities. Christian wanted to make sure that Kate had caught a few of the finer plays his son (and Desmond) had made against the Widmores, and Kate relied on every last card she had to be as witty and charming as possible. Jack was eerily silent throughout the conversation, though she made everyone laugh a few times more, including Desmond, so by the time there was a discrete knock on the door announcing the arrival of a few boutiques with clothes for "Monica," Kate was feeling pretty confident.

Nikki and Claire cooed over the choices she made—a smart pencil skirt and elegant tank top for the afternoon, and then a dark blue charmeuse gown for dinner ("You'll look so much better in it than that hag from that movie," Nikki assured her)—though Kate slowly came to realize that Claire's step-mother dwarfed her whenever they shared a room. It wasn't so much in looks, but in personality; Nikki seemed to make Claire feel awkward, and quiet, and if the elder noticed, she didn't go out of her way to change the dynamic.

The visiting boutiques had even provided some tasteful costume jewelry, shoes and purses, and didn't even broach the subject of payment. It wasn't like there would ever be anything as offensive as a price tag on any of the pieces, anyway.

The two Hume women left Kate to change, before they all headed out to a balcony to watch the sun set. Christian had obviously retired somewhere to do business, and if Kate thought that Nikki would seek out her husband when they stumbled across Jack and Desmond enjoying a drink, she didn't mention the thought as the older woman settled languidly into a deck chair and ordered a martini from a waiting server. Claire and Kate asked for lemonade.

Jack and Desmond, despite the arrival of the three women, were still adamant to discuss the day's polo match, as well as their chances for the rest of the week's boat races. Kate impressed them both with some obscure knowledge of some of the boats, and a few names of some of the past winners.

"You boat?" It had seemed like Nikki had been daydreaming, but her sudden question drew the attention back to her.

"Uh, just a few times. With family." Kate immediately shut up, not wanting to invite more questions about her past, invented or no. She might not have had to offer any more information about who she was other than her name, but that itself was only a matter of time. "And a bit in college."

"Oh, where did you go?" Claire asked.

"Um," Kate paused but a moment, "UCLA." She noticed Jack raise an eyebrow, though his gaze was fixed on the ice cubes at the bottom of his glass. "You know, Catalina…"

Nikki had an anecdote about the island, and thankfully, because Kate was starting to worry about sweating in her new clothes despite the pleasant breeze that kept them all cool.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate could see Jack looking at her.

Too soon, Desmond was draining the last of his scotch and excusing himself ("Got to check on Elizabeth before dinner," he admitted, referring to the boat they were racing every day that week), and then Nikki was standing as well, dragging Claire with her to get ready for the evening meal ("No, Monica, you stay here any enjoy yourself! Be glad you don't have any expectations to fulfill," Nikki had said).

Kate chewed her lip awkwardly as she watched Claire disappear inside.

"It won't work, you know." Jack was peering at her, intensely, and Kate tried to look confused as she took a sip of her remaining lemonade.

"Excuse me?"

"You won't catch Desmond."

Kate's shoulders fell. Oh… He had completely misunderstood, but who could really blame him, and how to explain? He thought her to be after the Hume heir, to somehow trap him, make him marry her, take care of her forever with his money and status. Hey, it didn't sound half-bad, even when she said it so sarcastically to herself. Kate put down her half-finished drink and stood, walking towards one of the many rose gardens that decorated the premises. She heard Jack follow suit.

"He's no idiot, you know. Even if he's charmed now, there's no way he'll be ignorant to your play forever."

Kate didn't dare try to change his mind. Jack was certainly no idiot either. Educated at Dartmouth, Oxford, and Yale, he had become a leading neuro-surgeon in almost half the time it took his father.

"You mean, you'll tell him," Kate's voice had lost all its mirth, though she kept her gait slow and steady.

"Oh no," Jack almost chuckled coldly, "No, I won't tell him. I don't think I'll have to."

Kate paused before a particularly breath-taking view along the path, and crossed her arm across her chest. She believed him when he said he wouldn't tell Desmond, but maybe he was right? Maybe it would only be a matter of time… Kate unconsciously sighed, and then turned to pin Jack with a glare.

"You know, I deserve a break."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, don't we all."

Her glare turning more venomous, Kate turned abruptly and continued down the garden path. "There's no way you could understand…" she started, bitterly, and then realized what she said was true.

"Right, play the pity card. Des' loves that," Jack's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he caught up with her, "Or did you know that already?" When she didn't respond, Jack only seemed to gather speed, "He may play around, Monica, but you should know now that Desmond will never settle down with you, or anyone." He didn't elaborate, and the effect was ominous, almost inviting Kate to question why.

"What if I wanted to be just another notch on his bedpost?" Kate leaned down to inspect one of the more pretty roses she had passed, of a deep purple color. The smell was enticing, and she had to touch the stem to bring it to her nose—but flinched with a sharp hiss as one of the thorns pierced her finger. Immediately she brought the offending digit to her lips, and sucked it roughly, instinctively turning towards the doctor she knew she was with.

Jack's eyes were trained on her mouth, a short-fused intensity focused in his gaze, and making Kate's lips go dry. In nothing but pure, unexpected shock, her finger dropped from her mouth, and she watched remotely as Jack reached over, and took her hand in his. She didn't know what she was expecting him to do with the injury, but it certainly wasn't to take the finger between his own lips, running his tongue over the small cut as a pressure drew out the blood. A shiver coursed down her spine that had nothing to do with the breeze.

Kate sucked in a slow breath, but then, the oxygen seemed to kick-start her brain. With barely two blinks, she ripped her hand out of his mouth, and cradled it with her own hand, applying the pressure she needed to bring her back to reality. Seeing her aghast and angry expression, Jack spat the blood into a bush of yellow roses, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She fixed him with a reproachful glare, but Jack merely grinned under the force of it. "You know, Monica, we can notch my bedpost any time."

Kate gasped at the unexpected proposal, and fought back the urge to slap him as well.

"I need a band-aid," she muttered, and swung in the opposite direction, skipping back towards the house as fast as she could in two-inch heels.

Nothing in her research had alluded to the fact that Jack was sexually promiscuous—that label usually referred to Desmond, whose face often appeared in those tabloids in the company of whatever 'it' actress or model happened to be around. But now that she thought about it, Jack always seemed to be photographed with women as well. A different context, of course—usually at some product launch, or a business deal, or fundraiser—but always accompanied by a beautiful woman nonetheless. And Desmond would sometimes allow for a streak of the same girl at a time, but she couldn't remember any mentioning of Jack in any sort of relationship… Kate shook her head, confused and put off, though low in her stomach, as much as she could deny it, there was a heady pool of awareness.

She took her time dressing for dinner, enjoying it when Claire joined her in applying make-up. They really did seem to get along pretty well, and Claire was gregarious when not in her step-mother's company. Kate almost questioned why, but resisted, not wanting to pry too early in their friendship.

They went down to dinner together, where Kate realized that 'family' came to include more than the five people she was expecting. Claire seemed ready for them though, suffering a small sigh before joining the throng of people she recognized. Kate stayed off to the side, and used the time to inspect some of the objects decorating the impressive foyer.

"Do you like art?" Kate swung around at the heavy Scottish accent, and was more than pleased to find Desmond standing a few feet behind her.

"Oh," she started, unintelligently, "I don't really know much about it."

Desmond accepted the invitation, and strode up next to her. He pointed out a painting that hung on the wall in an ornate black frame. "That's Jackson Pollock's Number Eight, 1949," he started. "He conned my great-uncle into buying it—telling him he was broke, when really he was just trying to get off the ground."

Kate smiled at the anecdote, though her insides clenched. Did he know? "It's a beautiful painting."

"Eh," Desmond contemplated, scratching the back of his neck as he gave the splatter painting a weary glance, "I think I'm more for the classics." He smiled at her, and Kate relaxed when it looked genuine.

"Will you be staying in Cowes all week, then?"

Kate nodded, using the painting as something to focus on, "Yup, I'll be here till Saturday." She flashed him a winning smile, which she hoped was inviting. It was.

"Well, then I should expect that we'll see you at the boat race tomorrow, cheering us on."

"I hope to," she admitted.

"You will." It was Jack, who had suddenly appeared at Kate's other shoulder. "On The Pearl," he clarified, when he was noticed. "Everyone will be watching from the ocean, so you'll have to be on a boat. Naturally, Claire's expecting you to join the family on our yacht. The one that isn't competing, of course."

Kate was taken aback by her luck. "Won't it get in the way of the races?"

Both men chuckled. "No," Desmond explained, "That's part of the fun, avoiding all the trade and leisure ships that crowd the Solent."

The two men both started to describe the race for the next day, and Kate listened attentively. She couldn't help but find herself staring at Jack's face, as she unconsciously questioned every muscle movement. Had Claire really invited her, or was Jack setting up some grand scheme to expose her?

Nikki interrupted them, mid-sentence, to announce dinner. Then she turned on Kate.

"Monica, I didn't know that you cleaned up so nicely."

Kate's back went rigid as the cool, subtly spiteful tones washed over her. She wasn't expecting that, but Nikki's opinion was abundantly clear: the woman wasn't used to being upstaged in front of her step-son and cousin-in-law, least of all by a newcomer in a borrowed dress. Kate fixed an equally cold smile on her face.

"It sure beats a bathrobe."

Desmond chuckled, breaking the ice, and the four met Claire and entered into the dining room. Kate instantly saw with displeasure that she was seated at the opposite end of the table from everyone else, next to a dark-haired Brazilian who looked equally unhappy with his seating arrangements. As the man made furtive glances to Mrs. Shephard (who was very carefully avoiding his gaze), it was very clear that Nikki had made some final placement adjustments.

Claire almost cursed aloud when she realized, but under Jack's watchful eye, Kate was sure to calm her, assuring that they she would scarf down her dinner as fast as she could. It was with a sour expression, however, that Kate took her seat next to the young foreign gentleman.

"Hi, I'm Monica," she introduced, to which the other man responded with the name Paulo. It turned out that he wasn't there by relation, either, though when pressed, he avoided discussing his own family, merely stating that he was a chef who had known the Humes for years. Well, at least, Kate was pretty sure that's what he was saying. His accent was heavy, his English hard to discern, and Kate's attempt at Portuguese only made him laugh.

They quickly realized, however, that they both had cards they wanted to play, as their conversation turned intentionally animated, and they laughed a little too freely at each other's jokes. It seemed to have the desired affect, however. Nikki was having trouble concentrating on her husband, so busy was she sending furious glances down at the pair. Desmond's head was also turned once or twice, Kate's laughter having filtered nicely with the clinking of silverware and glasses.

Kate was decidedly sated by the time the last plate was cleared, knowing that it would be a very long time before she had two such rich, full meals in one day. She wondered idly if the Humes were ones for cigars in parlor rooms after dining, but was glad to find that they weren't so old-fashioned. Instead, everyone calmed their stomach with a fine stroke of port wine of the Hume's own vintage as they settled throughout the dining room and foyer, saying quiet goodbyes for the evening, placing good-natured bets on the next day's races.

She was inordinately pleased when Desmond brought her over a cup of coffee. "I'm sorry you were seated so far away, Monica," he told her, his Scottish lilt making her insides melt just a little.

"Oh, it wasn't so bad."

"These things do tend to be a bit boring, I know."

"No, it's okay, I got to practice my…Port-o-guey-sa," Kate tried to pronounce, making Desmond laugh. They descended quietly into conversation, as Kate probed him for more information about the races the Humes were planning on participating in that week, which of them they were planning to win. After so much good food and wine, Kate found even herself brilliant, and she was pleased to make Desmond laugh a few times more. Eventually, they realized that all but a few close family members were left, and Desmond had to excuse himself to wish his more intimate good-byes.

"You looked like you were having fun." Jack had snuck up on her again, and Kate cursed under her breath and blamed it on being so happy just a moment before. Jack's face wasn't as pleasant as Desmond's, not by any stretch, but he still managed to draw her away from the crowds of family members. Kate looked wistfully to where Desmond was affectionately kissing an elderly woman's cheek.

"It looks like you might be wrong about your second cousin's type," Kate argued, taking a swift sip of her coffee, though it had gone cold.

Jack chuckled at about the same temperature, "Oh no, I know Desmond's type very well." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "And trust me when I say that there are no wedding bells in your future."

Kate's smile hardened, though she didn't respond.

"If I offered you the fare home, would you take it?" His question was casual, and any onlooker would assume that it had been about something innocuous, like the weather. But it hit Kate like a rock to her stomach, and she had to swallow hard.

Would she go home? No, she answered just as quickly. There was nothing to go home to, except…except… Kate hadn't realized that she'd been silent, but Jack's voice brought her back.

"I didn't think so."

Kate turned to him, her eyes intentionally cheerful, forcing a southern accent, "I don't often depend on the kindness of strangers."

Jack sneered. "No, you only lie to them."

Kate didn't have a response to that. Thankfully Claire provided a welcome interruption.

"Hey, Paulo's driving back into town, and he's offered to give you a ride." A glance to the Brazilian man proved that he was none too pleased to be leaving, and he and Nikki were sharing scowls and very hushed conversation. She seemed to suddenly dismiss him with finality, and Paulo approached the trio, fixing an obvious smile to his face.

"Mowneecah, are you ready? I would be happy to take you if you are ready to go."

Jack almost cut him off, "No, thank you. Monica is our guest; we'll make sure she makes it home alright." Kate felt a wave of panic rise up her throat. She didn't want anyone to take her home. Or "home" was more like it—she didn't think a sleeping bag in an attic she secretly shared with three other women constituted as a place where her heart was.

Paulo gave a wavering glance to Kate, but then shrugged casually, not leaving before he made a grand show of taking Kate's hand and kissing the back of it softly. As soon as he was out of earshot, Kate looked around the room for a phone. "I'll call a cab."

"Monica! No, goodness no," Claire rebuffed, looking imploringly as her half-brother. "Jack will take you home."

Kate's insides froze.

"Jack's been drinking," it was Nikki, having slunk away from whoever had been occupying her time. "Let Desmond take her." She practically purred his name.

"Desmond's been drinking, too," Jack pointed out.

"Aye, but my chauffeur hasn't." Desmond had appeared just behind Nikki, and he was smiling warmly at Kate. "We'll be glad to see you home."

Kate's heart soared, but she found herself looking at Jack, as if for confirmation. She realized it a moment too late, and her eyes connected with the doctor's for a mere moment, before she stepped towards his second cousin.

"Thank you, that would be most, most kind."

Kate and Desmond chatted amiably on the ride back into the heart of Cowes, as his driver took them to a trendy summer home block not too far from Kate's attic. Desmond found it deadly amusing that she was sure a Widmore would take tomorrow's Farr 45 race. He seemed to be a little too buzzed to ask her any more questions about her personal life, though, as instead his comments were bordering on innuendo. Kate wanted to press that line, but then realized he could ask himself in…for the night… So she contented herself to be as witty as possible, and when they pulled up to the curb, Desmond let her out and led her to one of the doors.

"Really, I can't thank your family enough," Kate whispered, earnestly. "Everything was just…was just…well," she finished lamely.

Desmond chuckled, "Aye, we get that a lot."

Kate felt herself blush. Would he try to kiss her? The mood seemed right for it… A careful breeze brushed their hair, and the soft glow of a streetlamp softened their features. She had drunk enough so that she could feel it warm in her stomach, and unconsciously, Kate leaned forward…

"Well, goodnight, Monica."

Kate straightened, a little surprised, "Oh, yes, goodnight…Desmond."

If the lights weren't so dim, Kate would have seen a certain amount of regret crease the corner of his eyes, as if he were remembering something not so far away. But instead, she only saw him nod to her politely, then climb back into his waiting car. Kate made sure they were out of sight before walking the few blocks, where she discretely whispered to wake her flat mates. Quietly, they let down the key, so that Kate could let herself in and make her way up the creaky stairs past the landlord's room, who was so luckily in the habit of drinking himself to sleep every night.

Naomi and the other girls wanted to know all about how it had went, and she entertained their whims after they turned off the lights and Kate settled into her sleeping bag. Relieved to hear herself called to by her real name for the first time all day, and relishing in the feeling that the day had gone well, Kate realized as she drifted off to sleep that she felt comfortable, really comfortable, for the first time since leaving America.

A stranger watched from the darkened sidewalk, as the lights in the small attic went out. If they were surprised to find themselves there, it was nothing compared to the whispered call and the dropped key. But most of all, it was what they called her.

Kate?

A smile curled their lips as the stranger beat a hasty retreat, a practical spring in their step. This…This was very interesting.

end notes: ...eh, no, I don't have anything. Drop a review if you're not too busy...?