Chapter 3
She didn't know what to make of their newest addition to the island. He did not look the part of the slick, manipulative conman that she had in mind. Neither did he give off any murderous vibes, which she had somewhat expected, as much as she hated to admit it.
The only thing that she found mildly unsettling about his appearance, were the dark circles around his eyes, which she gathered was the end result of suffering from one too many bad nights. If anything, he came across as a relatively genteel person, albeit a little too intense for her taste.
She couldn't help wondering, was he genuinely curious about her like she was about him or was there another reason behind his stares?
It sent uncomfortable chills to crawl up her spine. Banishing the thought to the darkest corner of her mind, she pasted on a smile. "If Ethan hasn't briefed you yet, I'm Juliet Burke. I'll be here to guide you along and…well, help you get used to the life on the island…not that it's much of a difference, to be honest," she added as an afterthought. "I'm sorry Ethan had to be the one to take you here. It's the first time I'm getting to house someone and we had a little bit of a problem with the arrangements…" She trailed off, noticing the change of look on his face. "Is there a problem?"
"This is where I'm stayin' on the island?"
He had a thick southern drawl. She wasn't used to hearing that around here. "Yeah, but if you—"
"I ain't complainin'. You got a nice place."
The dimples that appeared when he smiled diverted her attention. She blinked twice to get her thoughts back on track. "Thanks. You were supposed to get a house of your own, but the guy meant to leave on the sub today had a last-minute situation to handle, so he, uh…" She wrinkled her nose. "He needed the house back. You'll have to put up with me for the time being until we find other arrangements."
When Ben came to her that morning, bringing news that the accommodation intended for Sawyer was no longer available, she hadn't just been a little put out. In fact, she was certain she would have thrown a wrench at his bug-eyed face, if she had one. Instead, she had pulled her lips into a tight smile, seething all the while.
Expecting a nasty, ill-mannered man who would screw up her already messed-up life here on the island, it came as a nice surprise to her when she realized that James Ford was not that sort.
Let's just hope we get along fine.
Before she could offer to show him his room, they heard a knock. She threw him an apologetic glance before moving to open the door.
"Goodwin?" Her brow furrowed in confusion as she took in the sight of the blond-headed man at her doorstep. "What are you doing here?"
He was without his usual smile, an aggravated expression on his face. Dread made her chest tighten. "Jules, I don't know how else to say this. Ben…came to see me a while ago. He's sending me off the island."
She felt the air whoosh out of her, vaguely aware that he was still speaking.
"…I'm to take his place on the sub."
But…why you? Meeting Goodwin's grim eyes, she knew exactly why. It caused her stomach to turn. She opened her mouth and forced the words out. "How long?"
"I don't know. Until everything's settled…until he chooses to bring me back." His eyes, distracted by a sudden movement, shifted from her to somewhere over her shoulder. He scowled. "I see the newcomer has arrived."
She caught the hostility in his tone. "It's okay…he's okay. He'll be staying here for a while, but…as soon—" her voice broke. Her vision blurred. She took a shaky breath. "As soon as John…John, he…" The jumble of words no longer made sense to her. Leaving her sentence unfinished, she pressed her arms to her stomach, where a dull ache was throbbing.
"I'm sorry, Julie. I'd take you along if I could."
If only you could.
She wished he would wrap his arms around her, but he didn't. Already, they were attracting too many curious stares from people that no doubt wished they could hear their exchange.
"Be safe, okay?"
She nodded dumbly. As he departed from her house, she pressed her lips together in a thin line and retreated back into the safety of her house.
He ain't just a friend.
That was the thought that bugged him relentlessly, and his heart sank when she finally got back, her pinched expression not escaping his notice. She did have a lover on the island. And he had brought her bad news.
"I'm sorry." She sounded as though she might start crying any second. "I just…uh, do you want to see your room now?"
He slung his bag over his shoulder and followed her silently. She led him into a room where a queen-sized bed was positioned against the wall, together with a bedside table and an accompanying cushioned chair. A framed mirror hung on the wall by the large cupboard. Pretty yellow curtains - handmade, most probably – partially covered the window of the room.
But he barely noticed any of those details. There was only one person he was conscious of, and at the moment, it seemed like she could hardly care less about him.
The thought of her being in love with someone else made his heart wrench, but it hurt him even more to see her upset. By the time he felt able to say something of comfort, she'd excused herself, telling him to 'rest well' and call her if he needed anything.
As the door closed behind her, he let his bag tumble onto the floor and slumped into the chair by the window.
Everything that had happened ever since he reached the island - realizing that she was alive, finally seeing her, learning that she had a lover on the island - all that he hadn't been aware of before, was way too much to absorb at once. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths.
How was it possible for him to carry on pretending that they were perfect strangers? When they had once shared a home together, when they had once held each other so close, it felt like their hearts were beating as one, when she had once known him so well, she could guess what he was about to say even before he uttered a word.
Do you know how many nights I lie awake, the image of your face in my mind?
Do you know the pain that encompasses me whenever I close my eyes and see you falling into the darkness?
He'd toyed with the idea of telling her who he really was, revealing their past, and he almost did.
Almost.
In the end, he'd made the decision not to. Premature revelation would yield disastrous results and this wasn't the best time to be labeled as a lunatic.
He ran his hands over his face in frustration, letting out a loud sigh. Hoping for a chance to talk to her again, he stepped out from the room, where he noticed that her door was closed.
Guess he had to find something to occupy himself until she reappeared.
He was wandering to the kitchen to get a drink when he spotted a thick book lying on the table. Curiosity aroused, he walked over, thirst forgotten momentarily. Carrie, the title read. He picked it up, studying it with a critical eye before turning it over to read the summary.
"Ben doesn't like it."
He whirled around with a start. Seeing his surprise, she said with a forced smile, "I thought it wouldn't be nice to leave you here alone…because you just came and all."
Oh. Taking in her red-rimmed eyes and pale countenance, it didn't take a genius to guess that she'd spend the time in her room crying. He shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Ben doesn't like this?"
"Yeah. Benjamin Linus. He's…he's in charge here." She paused. "They must have mentioned his name before you came."
As much as he hated lying to her, he didn't give himself a second's hesitation before shaking his head. Guiding the conversation back to the initial topic, he waved the book in the air. "Stephen King ain't his cuppa tea?"
"No, he has a couple of his works. He just doesn't like Carrie, which," she shrugged. "Coincidently happens to be one of my favorites."
"Book looks interesting. I might give it a shot if you don't mind me borrowin' it."
His request clearly threw her off because it took her a while to answer him. "Sure. I just…I didn't take you as the sort to…read." She turned pink, a blush that colored her cheeks.
A laugh escaped from him. That was exactly how she'd responded the first time she saw him with a book in hand. "Doesn't that sound familiar."
"What?"
"I mean," he backtracked, realizing what he'd said. "Most people think a red-necked man like me ain't got no use for reading."
"I didn't mean that."
Seeing her defensiveness, his voice softened. "Never said you did."
Catching the strange look she aimed at him, he immediately flicked his eyes away, scolding himself for carelessly slipping. He had to constantly remind himself that she was not the same Juliet he had spent three years with, as similar as they were to each other.
"We've got a book club, if you're interested in joining us," she said tentatively, obviously trying to make up for whatever insult she thought she'd unintentionally made.
A book club in Othersville?
"We have a gathering at Sue's place tomorrow. It'll be a good time for to introduce you to the others." She smiled faintly. "They would like to meet you."
A lopsided grin appeared on his face. He tapped his fingers on the hard cover of the book, silent for a while, then, proceeded to ask, "Ben will be there?"
She tilted her head, wisps of blond hair falling over her features, and he resisted the urge to brush them behind her ear. "Why?"
That single word allowed him to recognize the guardedness in her tone. He backed down. "Nothin'. He sounds like quite an avid reader."
"Oh, he is," she said tersely. "I can't say if he'll be there for sure but he usually does come for the discussions."
He could almost hear her add an 'unfortunately' at the end. Touchy subject. He had been aware of the animosity between Ben and her, just not how deep it went.
"Want something to drink?"
He could literally feel the mood lighten with the change of subject. As she crossed the tiled floor, he sauntered after her, saying teasingly, "I don't suppose you got beer."
The corners of her lips lifted slightly. "You got the wrong house."
"Well then, water's fine."
"Guess it's obvious enough that I don't take beer, huh," she remarked as she filled the glass and handed it to him.
"A blond angel like you drinkin' beer?"
She just stared at him with that unreadable expression, lips still curled, frozen in that half-smile. He'd nearly forgotten how immune she had been to his charms the first time they met.
Downing his drink, he set the empty glass on the kitchen counter. "Didn't think so." He watched her put a pot on the stove to boil, preparation for dinner, he assumed. She bent down to the cupboard and pulled out an unopened packet. Turning, with brows arched, she held it up.
"You okay with pasta?"
How the littlest things she said or did would always catch him off-guard. She was here, and yet, she was not.
You told me you love making pasta, remember?
Standing there, gazing at her still clutching that packet, he realized how much he wanted to hold her in his arms, tell her he would make everything all right.
Tell her he loved her.
But he knew all that he would not.
A lump had lodged itself in his throat, one that no amount of swallowing could get rid of.
Her brows dipped. "If you don't like pasta, I could make you something else. It's no trouble."
He cleared his throat roughly, and with much effort, replied, "No. Pasta's fine."
Whistling a happy tune, with a bounce in his step, he headed down the winding path to Horace's house. It was a good day. He was settling in a comfortable routine in the Dharma Initiative. For nearly two months now, he was heading the security department. He hadn't gotten the position in the short span of two months, as Juliet had predicted, but still, quick enough to be considered some sort of miracle to him.
Somehow he felt that the past incident with Richard played a big part in sealing the deal.
He strode past a couple of guys throwing a football around, waving them off when they invited him to join in their game. When he was nearing his destination, however, his gaze swept across the field, taking in the huge oak tree a couple of meters away, and he took a double take.
Shading his eyes from the sun, he squinted at the person huddled under the shelter of the tree's outstretched branches. He shook his head, clicking his tongue.
Everyone here knows that tree attracts ants like it produces sugar or something. What a joker.
He changed directions, deciding that he was in the mood to be a Good Samaritan today and warn whoever it was about the agony of ant bites. As he got closer, he realized that 'joker' was none other than Juliet.
Remembering his previous comment, he let out an involuntary oops as he took off at a fast jog.
"Hey!" He yelled at her, hoping she'd lift her head and spot him.
She didn't.
As he got to her, he grabbed her arm and jerked her up roughly. "Do you fancy the feelin' of a thousand needles prickin' you, Juliet?" Seeing her part-confused, part-annoyed look, he pointed to the trail of red ants marching up the tree in a straight line. Admirable, and rather cute, if you weren't suffering from their vicious attacks.
Realization dawned upon her. She offered him a sheepish smile. "I didn't…notice."
"I'll say," he muttered as he watched her dust off her pants. He didn't bother to ask what occupied her mind as they returned back to the houses. She would tell him in her own time.
"I heard Roger yelling at him."
He rolled his eyes, but only because he realized why she looked so downcast.
She'd been thinking about Ben again.
Sometimes, he really didn't understand her. After all that man had done to them, how was she able to feel sorry for him? Kid or no kid, he didn't like being near him. Juliet's biggest drawback had to be having too soft a heart.
"So tell Roger to go fly a kite," he said. Catching the look she sent his way, he threw up his hands and groaned. "Fine. Okay. What do you wanna do?" When he received no answer, he glanced over at her, and to his horror, saw tears welling up in her eyes.
Son of a bitch! Did he do that?
Seeing his dismayed look, she shook her head, blond tresses getting mussed up. "It's not you."
Relief flowed through him. "I can try talkin' to him if you want."
"He wouldn't listen."
He really tried his best to comprehend, but he just couldn't wrap his mind around it. Slowing to a stop, he turned to her, a frown lining his forehead. "Why are you sorry for him, Juliet? After all he's done to us…how can you look at him and still wanna help?"
She bit her bottom lip as he stared hard at her, waiting, unsure what kind of answer he was even expecting.
"He's just a kid, James," she said, failing miserably to steady her voice. "I don't look at him and see…Ben."
He puffed out a sigh. What could he say? Ever since she'd been introduced to Roger and his son, she'd been struggling with coming to terms that the kid who was quiet and polite when spoken to, the kid who was often beaten and yelled at by his dad, was THE Ben who was the bane of her life.
He grasped her shoulders, wanting to erase that forlornness from her face. "Hey, I'll talk to him, okay? I can't guarantee he'll listen, but I'll talk to him."
Her lips formed a smile that trembled just a tiny bit. Satisfied, he said, "I'm droppin' by Horaces'. Come along. Amy will wanna talk to you."
She allowed him to coax her into walking together with him, his arm draped around her shoulders.
"She'll need some help in planning that party of hers, and she sure as hell is a lot better companion than those nasty ants."
And better than being by herself, getting distressed over a certain boy called Ben.
"You'll go with me to that party, won't you? Amy's plannin' on makin' it a big one. Dance and all that jazz. The entire Dharma Initiative is probably gonna have the day off," he joked.
"I don't dance."
His grin faded. She, the gun-wielding, ass-kicking, car-fixing grease monkey with all her scientific smarts, didn't know how to dance? He wasn't sure if he ought to chuckle or express his disbelief.
"I don't dance," she repeated, enunciating each word, stubbornness in her tone.
Like he hadn't understood the first time round.
"You're tellin' me you don't know how to dance?"
"I didn't say I don't know," she stressed. "I said I don't dance."
"Well, that makes all the difference in the world. In the end, you still ain't gonna be dancin'." He folded his arms over his chest. "The next thing you'll be tellin' me is that you ain't goin'."
She kicked the loose sand on the ground. "I'm thinking about it."
Now what does that mean?
"Ames is gonna be real upset if you don't go," he chastised gently. "Come on. It'll be fun. You don't dance, we don't have to dance."
She looked down, gazing for a long time at her clad feet, then, back at him, and for the life of him, he didn't know why his heart skipped a beat when she smiled.
He trudged off to shower before dinner and washed off whatever filth that had collected on his body. Upon stepping out from the bathroom, he happened to glance towards the living room, and drew a sharp breath when he saw who was standing at the door.
Benjamin Linus.
Apparently, he'd decided to drop by to welcome him to Othersville.
Not taking his eyes off him, he hung the white towel around his neck, letting it soak the wetness from his hair. He was treading on dangerous ground because he wasn't sure how much information the man had about him. Encountering Juliet's gaze from where she was – angling her body away from Ben, he noted - he sent her a small smile and she relaxed a little.
"Hello, James."
Had he mentioned that with the exception of Juliet, he hated people calling him James?
"I'm Benjamin Linus. It's good to have you here with us."
His gaze lingered on the man's outstretched hand just for a bit longer than necessary. He took it, unflinching, the touch of the cool, dry skin against his. "Thank you."
"You were highly recommended," he said. "I heard that you know quite a bit about the Dharma Initiative. Perhaps we can chat about it sometime."
Juliet was hard to read, but this man was an impenetrable shield. He allowed his lips to form an easy smile. "Anytime."
You gotta do better than this if you wanna keep this shit up. Think conman, think conman.
"Alright then. I hope you adjust well to our life here." He nodded once to him, then, directed his gaze to Juliet who was leaning against the inner doorframe. "You know what to do."
He didn't have to look at her, knowing her eyes were turning an icy blue. The tension felt thick in the air that he swore he had to struggle to suck in a breath. When the door finally closed and they were alone again, he turned to her, but she was no longer there. She'd left her position beside him and was walking to the kitchen in measured steps.
Dinner was more or less a silent affair. She picked at her pasta and only made a show of nibbling on it whenever she caught him looking at her. The conversation consisted of barely two sentences, him saying 'Thank you' when she passed him his plate, extracting an almost inaudible 'You're welcome' from her.
He stole glances at her, who was lost in her own world. He was used to her sharing whatever was bothering her. To have that suddenly taken away from him…he hated that feeling of isolation.
Setting down his fork, he took a deep breath. "Wanna talk?"
Her head jerked up and something resembling surprise flashed across her face, making him wonder if they were anyone on this island that she actually confided in. She looked torn, part of her yearning to be listened to, another part unwilling to divulge any secrets to a man she barely knew.
"You don't seem to like him much."
His words came out sounding less like a question and more of a conclusion that he'd come to.
Her gaze wavered and he noticed the droop of her shoulders, so subtle that he would've missed it if he hadn't been looking at her so intently. For a long while, she did not answer.
I won't threaten you, Juliet. I won't hurt you.
Then, her mouth opened and the words came, haltingly. "He…isn't as…humane as he seems."
It struck him that humane was an interesting word to be used, but the fact that she was actually opening up to him overshadowed everything else. He felt warmth spreading throughout his body, knowing that if he could make Juliet Burke fall in love with him once, he could do it again.
Alright. So she didn't say much, but it's a start. The first step is always the hardest.
"But maybe it's just me. You shouldn't judge a person based on one's opinion." She stood up, pushing her chair back, marking the end of their conversation.
He got up as well, and carried his plate to the sink, gaining a smile of appreciation from her.
"We've got a long day tomorrow. You may want to get a good night's rest," she said as she turned on the tap, letting the rush of water flow over the dirty dishes. "Your schedule has been planned out for you."
"Huh. Who do I have to thank for that?"
"Me."
He chuckled. "Well, that ought to be fun."
As she bid him goodnight, he cast one last longing glance at her before turning away. His feet felt like stone as they carried him away from her, away from the brightness of the kitchen lights into the darkness of his room. Now that he was back, just spending one night without her in his sight filled him with a sense of edginess.
As expected, he was unable to sleep, despite keeping her advice to get a good rest in mind. After tossing and turning for nearly an hour, he sat up. Barely flinching as his feet touched the cold floor, he crossed the room to the window, where he drew aside the curtain.
Not too far off, to the left, stood the house of Benjamin Linus. Dark and silent.
She was alive.
That very realization had an instant impact on him. His knees buckled, depositing him into the nearest chair. Finding his voice, he rasped out, "What?"
"She's not dead."
"But they…they told me she was dead," he stumbled blindly through his words. "They said…"
"What do they know about the island?" The disdain couldn't have been more obvious even through the persistent crackling, which had subsided a little.
He could only sit, desperately sucking in air through his mouth as though someone had just delivered a punch in his gut.
"If you're interested, I know of a way you can get back."
As though woken up from a deep sleep, he blinked rapidly. Get back? Get to see Juliet again?
He gripped the phone with both hands and grasped at one of the questions swirling in his mind. "Who is this?"
There was a reply, but it was lost in the midst of crackling and buzzes. Suddenly overcome with panic that the connection might be broken, he pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
Then, he heard them, the two words that chilled him to the bone and sent shivers down his spine.
Charles…Widmore.
