I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for all the reviews and ideas you have given me. You can look forward to seeing Kate and some other characters soon. :)


Chapter One: The Aftermath

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you
~
Blue October, Hate Me

Jack Shephard first began hating his father when he was five years old.

It was nearly eleven o'clock before Jack's party finally ended. He was sprawled out on one of the armchairs, exhausted after having to entertain all his relatives for so long, and waiting for someone to tell him it was time for bed.

But neither of his parents were paying much attention to him at the moment; despite his fatigue Jack could hear them arguing loudly in the kitchen.

"What do you mean it was too much?" his father was asking.

"I just think that we should have asked Jack what he wanted this time, instead of forcing every member of the family on him!" came Margo's reply.

She fell silent immediately, seeming to have realized she'd gone too far. Jack could already imagine what his father would say.

"Ask Jack? For god's sakes, Margo. He's just a kid, he doesn't know what he wants. He can hardly decide what kind of cereal to have for breakfast, let alone plan a party."

Jack had heard this same argument too many times to be worried about it anymore. His dad was always happier to be the one making the decisions and Jack was happy to let him; as long as it would stop his parents from fighting with each other he didn't care what he had to do.

But his efforts never seemed to do any good, especially when his father wasn't thinking clearly and got so caught up in an argument that he would do anything it took to win. And this time was no different.

Slipping out of the chair and down the hallway, Jack could still hear his father's cool, even voice. He waited for his mother's hot-tempered reply and, sure enough, it echoed loudly throughout the house.

"Don't talk to me about Jack not knowing what he wants! He takes after you, I suppose."

Jack halted his footsteps, wanting to be silent so he could hear his father's reply. Though he didn't understand his mother's comment, it must have been serious because she sounded close to tears.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Christian asked, though his voice had lost its arrogant, self-assured tone. He was worried.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," Margo replied, her words cold as ice.

"I know a lot of things," Christian countered, matching her tone. "You'll have to be more specific."

"The other women!" Margo nearly shrieked. "Do you think I don't wonder where you go when you leave the house for days at a time? Do you think I don't call the hospital and see if it's some sort of business trip because, god forbid, you could ever give me a straight answer about anything you do these days!"

She was becoming more and more frantic as she spoke. Jack could picture her face flushing a deeper red with each word.

"And imagine my surprise when I find out your latest 'adventure' has nothing to do with your job, but everything to do with some damn woman in Australia! I hope she's the only one but at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if you're meeting someone else every goddam time you leave the house!"

In the stunned silence that followed, Jack began quietly inching along the hallway, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping when the conversation was over.

But as he heard a loud smack, he froze. In an instant he had turned around and was running back towards the kitchen when he skidded to a stop. Listening hard for any cries of pain, it wasn't until Christian and Margo began speaking again that Jack let out a sigh of relief.

Dad must have smacked the table or something, he reasoned with himself.

Jack knew his father would never hit him or his mother, but sometimes he got carried away after he'd had a bit too much to drink. Usually Jack was there to make sure he didn't go too far, but he wasn't always ready in case something bad happened.

His greatest fear was that one day his father would snap and react much like he had a few seconds ago, only hitting another person instead of a piece of furniture. Thankfully that didn't seem to have happened this time...

He only wished there was a way to make it all stop; to have his parents laughing with each other instead of fighting, and for there to be pleasant conversation around the dinner table, instead of the silence Jack had become so used to.

And most of the silence that filled the house these days was because of Christian. Though he had always been a reserved and prestigious man, these days he was becoming more and more sullen. He spent more time locked away in his study than he did with his family.

It all came back to his father's drinking, as young as he was Jack understood that. So maybe there was a way to put a stop to this cold and isolated lifestyle...

Being as quiet as possible – though not because he was listening to his parents' conversation anymore, but because he didn't want to be heard – Jack slunk towards the large, oak door at the far end of the hall.

Usually he knocked and waited for his father to tell him it was okay to enter, but since Christian was still in the kitchen, Jack pushed the heavy door open right away.

Being in his father's study always made him feel small, but standing in it alone was even more intimidating.

Stretching onto his tiptoes, Jack scanned the room for the tray where his father usually kept his alcohol. Though he didn't quite understand how it worked, Jack knew that it made people do very strange things, things they normally wouldn't do; he had seen too many celebrations turn out badly because of the influence of alcohol.

Which was why he had to get rid of it, to stop his father from lashing out all the time or acting so depressed during one of his 'mood swings'. The one thing Jack wanted most was a normal family, and maybe if Christian didn't drink so much then they would finally have a chance to be one.

But the tray on which his father's precious container alcohol decanter was sitting was too high up. Even after spotting it, Jack had to stand on the black leather chair behind Christian's desk to reach it.

Crawling onto it, he had just reached over and grabbed the crystal glass when the seat spun violently, knocking him off.

Jack clutched the container to his chest, the amber liquid sloshing all over his clothes as he landed hard on his back, cracking his head against the side of the desk.

He lay unmoving, his head spinning dizzyingly until footsteps down the hall startled him from his daze. Terrified of being discovered, Jack panicked and hid under the desk, not moving an inch despite how uncomfortable he was.

And he was very uncomfortable indeed. His head was aching, the pain a constant throbbing behind his eyes, and he was drenched in the very substance he hated more than anything else. The intoxicating smell was enough to make his eyes water, but the small part of him that was attracted to the scent was what made him want to retch.

Suddenly the door creaked open and Jack watched from underneath the desk as his father's shoes slowly walked towards him then paused while he surveyed the mess of his office.

"Jack, I am going to ask you once to come out now, before I have to drag you out here myself," he said, keeping his voice neutral so Jack couldn't tell how angry he was.

Deciding it was safer to stay put, he crawled further beneath his hiding spot until a hand grabbed onto his arm and roughly pulled him out.

Jack found himself staring up into his father's face as Christian sat down, folding his hands together. Overcome with absolute terror, it took him a while to realize he was still holding the crystal decanter tightly to his chest. He made to place it on the desk, but Christian shook his head sharply.

"You can keep that, son. It's worthless to me now," he said, his words causing Jack to look down in shame. His face reddened as he saw the dark brown stain that had been left on the carpet beneath him.

After a long moment of embarrassed silence, at least on Jack's part, Christian finally spoke once more.

"What did you think you were doing?" he asked, using the same impartial tone.

Jack didn't answer, this time afraid to tell the truth. He knew that his father was still mad after the fight with his mother, and Jack was afraid Christian would take out his anger on him.

"Look at me," Christian commanded and Jack felt ashamed as his head rose to meet his father's gaze. "Now, tell me what you were doing."

Looking into Christian's lined face, a small amount of defiance rose within Jack's chest. He wasn't about to be humiliated by his father, not this time, not when he was only trying to do the right thing.

"I want us to be a family again," he said clearly, watching in smug satisfaction as Christian blinked in surprise. He clearly hadn't been expecting that response.

"And what does my alcohol have do to with that, son?" he asked, not questioning Jack's statement at all. Jack began to realize that not only was his father was patronizing him, he was actually enjoying himself.

Shaking with anger, Jack gripped the decanter even more tightly in his hands.

"When you drink it, it makes you...different," he said, unable to find the words that described the subtle, yet very real change that happened to his father whenever he drank from that crystal glass he was always carrying around.

Christian laughed loudly and Jack's face turned an even deeper red.

"I'm the same as I've always been, kiddo. Trust me, I know how to handle my liquor." When his word's earned no response, Christian chuckled ruefully.

"Always trying to be the hero, aren't you son? Well let me give you a word of advice. The time will come when you'll have a stressful job like mine, and there will be days when you'll need to come home and have a few drinks to take your mind off of things. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

He waited for his son to nod, which Jack reluctantly did, before continuing.

"But if you really want to succeed at your job, like I do, you have to learn not to be the hero. Don't choose, don't decide, because if you fail...well, you just don't have what it takes."

When he finished, they both stood there in silence again, but this time Jack's mind was reeling. He hadn't understood half of what his father had actually said, but he got the gist of it.

Now Christian was drumming his fingers on the top of his desk, expecting a reply, and Jack didn't know what to say.

"O-okay," he stuttered weakly; all the bravado had gone out of him after his father's speech.

Christian nodded, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips, as he leaned back in his chair.

"Good. Don't forget that, it's the most important lesson you will ever learn," he said, though Jack doubted he would ever be able to forget this moment. "Go to bed now, Jack, before your mother finds out you're still awake."

Jack nodded, forcing his feet to move towards the door. Halfway across the room, he turned back and looked at his father one more time, a question already forming on his lips. Needing to ask it before his courage disappeared, Jack knew there was nothing left to lose anyway.

"How come you and Mom are always fighting?" he wondered, causing Christian to stare at him stonily. Jack waited for his father to throw him out of his office, certain he had overstepped the boundaries, and that Christian would begin shouting at any moment.

But when he answered, his voice was weary and filled with years of sadness.

"I made the wrong choice when I married her, Jack. We were never meant to be together."

Jack's mouth dropped open, he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. And after a minute or two, Christian seemed to fully realize what he'd said.

His jaw tightened in anger and he waved Jack out of the room, all the while making Jack promise never to tell his mother what he'd just heard.

"I expect you to pay for this carpet to be cleaned too, kiddo. And for my scotch. That was my most expensive bottle," Christian added as his son left the room.

Closing the door behind him, Jack watched his father sitting alone at his desk until he disappeared from view behind the large wooden frame.

Standing in the hallway, Jack finally gave in and let the tears stream down his cheeks. He couldn't believe his plan had backfired so badly. Now, not only did he owe his father a bottle of scotch and the money for the carpet, he'd also learned that his parents had no chance of being happy with each other.

We were never meant to be together. The words kept spinning around and around in his head, crushing any hope he'd had of them ever becoming a normal family.

His throat felt tight, constricted, and he slumped against the wall, his head in his hands, not moving until he heard a set of footsteps coming down the hall.

Not about the repeat the same experience all over again, Jack raced for his bedroom, diving under the covers fully-clothed and curling up beneath them. The stupid decanter was still in his arms and he pushed it away, revolted.

Lying still when he heard his door creak open, he pushed the crystal container further under the covers and fought to make his breathing sound even.

He heard the footsteps draw nearer to his bed, but nearly jumped in shock when his mother kissed his forehead. Though he tried to remain still, even snoring a bit, Jack had the sinking suspicion that his mother wasn't fooled.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his ear. But it wasn't enough. Her apology couldn't explain away all the things Christian had done. And as Margo stood waiting for him to answer, Jack clenched his hands into fists, surprised at his own rage. He'd never thought it possible to hate his own father.

Finally his mother gave up and, possibly believing he really was asleep, tiptoed out of the room.

"Goodnight Jack," she said before shutting the door and leaving him all alone in the dark.

It took Jack a long time to fall asleep that night; he tossed and turned for hours, that conversation in the study running over in his mind. Just before he finally drifted off, Jack wondered what it would be like to have a real family.

He hoped someday he would get to find out.