Jack looked at the heart monitor worriedly. Ben's heart rate hadn't settled down. It wasn't a surprise, of course—it shouldn't fix itself until he'd repaired the kidney. But it was making him nervous. For all that he hated the Other, he was still a patient. And Jack had never lost a patient without some feeling of remorse.
"Jack. . ." Juliet said. He didn't respond, and she didn't try to say anything else. He just continued to stand there, the walkie talkie clutched tightly in his hand. Dammit, Kate. He looked at the clock above the operating table. It had been fifty minutes.
The walkie talkie crackled, a fuzzy female voice coming through.
"Jack? Jack, it's me."
"Kate?" Thank God. "Kate, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said. "There was something about a girl. . .and angel hair pasta spilling all over, and counting to five."
Jack frowned. He'd hoped that she would remember it better. Still, she'd remembered the basic gist, and while the Others had a lot of information he'd rather they didn't, it wasn't so much that he thought they'd know about that.
"Good," Jack said. "Kate. . .good luck."
There was something else on the walkie talkie, a garbled sound, a struggle, maybe? And then Sawyer's voice.
"Hang in there, doc. Don't think about the Red Sox."
And then it cut out completely. Jack wanted to think about what they'd just said. That hadn't sounded like Sawyer, he knew there was some kind of code in it, and knowing those two, he also knew that they'd be attempting something stupid and dangerous. But he didn't have time to think about it, didn't have time to do anything but spin around to the operating table and get to work on the son of a bitch who had set this all in motion.
The rest of the operation went smoothly. Almost too smoothly, in Jack's opinion. Anti-climatic, really, that the only danger had been one he'd imposed himself. He left Juliet behind to stitch up, and went into the hallway to remove his scrubs.
He took a moment out there, alone (or, at the very least, as alone as he could ever be within this compound). He rested his head against the wall and shook. He couldn't remember ever being this lost before in his entire life. He was alone, completely and utterly alone, in a place that he'd never been.
Counting to five didn't work, for all the truth of the story he'd told Kate. Because nothing changed, now, when he reached that magical number. He was still trapped here. With them. And he still had to face that he'd saved the life of one of Them.
"Jack?" He tried to control his trembling at her soft voice. But somehow it only got harder, to hear that false sympathy. Ben had used him, but in a way, Juliet had used him worth of all.
"How is he?" Jack asked, his voice tightly controlled. He could feel her there, standing just behind him, that cold mask drawn over her pretty features. She wouldn't touch him. She wouldn't reach out for him, wouldn't beg or plead. She would just stand with that collected calm.
"He's just fine," she said. "David is bringing him out of the anasthesia right now."
Jack nodded his head and fought back the tears. They'd seen him too weak already.
"Good," he said, and lifted his head. He turned around, met her cold eyes with even colder ones. "When do I leave?"
"Jack. . ." she said, and the mask dropped a little. The eyes met the floor briefly before coming to rest on his again. One pale hand fidgeted. She sighed, and forced a smile. "We'll have to wait until Ben wakes up."
Jack nodded, spasmatic little jerks. "All right," he said. He pulled off the gloves. "All right."
"This isn't the way to the beach," Paolo muttered. He didn't seem overly concerned, though, biting into a mango that Nikki had handed him a ways back. Locke smiled, refusing to let them see beneath the paternalistic facade. But, dammit all, those little tagalongs were really beginning to irk him!
"Where are we going, John?" Nikki asked. She tried to sound self-assured. She just sounded whiny.
"We're headed North," Locke responded, through clenched teeth. "Just like Eko wanted us to."
Sayid rolled his eyes, clearly not buying into the Jesus stick prophecy. Locke didn't mind the skepticism. It was a stepping stone on the way to faith, hadn't he learned that himself?
"Sorry, Paolo," Desmond said chipperly. "Looks like your five iron didn't make it onto the jungle adventure after all."
The Brazilian rolled his eyes and took another bite of mango. Nikki wound her arm through his. Locke felt like retching.
Where, he wondered, where oh where was Charlie, or Hurley, or any of the regular adventurers? Charlie was as annoying as a kid in a candy store, but he'd pay good money to have the little druggie here instead of these two. Locke narrowed his frown. It was just as well. When he got near he was going to have to escape from everyone, and they'd be easier to evade.
He cast a glance over at Sayid, and revised his earlier opinion. He might not be able to evade everyone.
The sun was beginning to set, and Sayid suggested pulling up camp for the night. Locke agreed. The shifting patterns of light were unnerving to say the least. And, while he trusted the island implicitly, Eko's death had unnerved him, more than he cared to admit.
"Wait, we're stopping here?" Paolo asked. Apparently the mango had been eaten. What a shame, Locke thought. "This isn't the beach."
"Really, brother?" Desmond looked around in mock surprise. "I hadn't noticed!"
"I told you we're going north," Locke said. "The beach is west. Was west."
"Maybe we shouldn't stay here," Nikki said nervously. "I mean, you said there were polar bears. . ." Paolo scoffed a little at that.
"It will be fine," Sayid said. Locke was a bit jealous, the way that his easy confidence immediately assuaged the fears of the other two. "We will keep a fire going all night, and we will have a watch. Besides, we have one thing that Mr. Eko did not have."
"What's that?" Nikki asked predictably. Desmond took that moment to break in, pulling a short pistol out of the back of his pants.
"Guns," he said with a smirk.