On An Island

Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Culprit

Bang Bang Bang

The gunshots rang through the air like wildfire, bouncing off the waves and rolling back in with the tide. Immediately Jack jumped up, startled but alert at the unfamiliar sound. Gunshots were something only heard on television to Jack, coming in between old static from the occasional Gunsmoke rerun at three in the morning; but he remember hearing that gunshots sounded like firecrackers..and they did. For some reason he felt like yelling, but choked at the taste of smoke when he opened his mouth to do so. Through the parting cloud Jack could make out a shadow of a figure standing nearby, gun drawn out in front of them. The echo of his feet hitting the sand reminded him of old western standoffs, and the moonlight perfectly led his way to the culprit, who was standing shocked before the body on the ground.

"Kate?" Jack asked carefully, disbelief choking through as he wondered if he was dreaming. Subconsciously he raised his hands in protection as he approached her.

Stepping beside her, Jack turned towards her, almost not wanting to. The gun was shaking dangerously in Kate's hand, and as his eyes met hers, he could see her moonlit face was pale, her hair sweaty and unkept, as if she'd been stressing. She was trembling as she looked at him, but yet she still seemed to have control over herself. So much confusion came from their connection that it became too much for Jack. He certainly felt confused..just earlier he was admiring Kate for her ability to stay calm and be able to deal with this trauma, but now he was wondering where that motivation came from. Feeling hurt as well, Jack became angry in the realization that he had been betrayed. Kate didn't attempt to break their eye contact or fight back as Jack forced the gun away from her hand, knuckles red from its hold on the gun. As his hand brushed against hers, Jack felt some kind of electric shock go through his body, sending a cold shiver down his spine. It made him stop for a second before he, piece by piece, took apart the gun, trying his best to remain calm. But Kate just kept staring at him, eyes deep in remorse, begging for forgiveness. Forgiveness. The thought made Jack angry, disgusted. That's when he thought to look at the victim on the ground. Slowly he turned his head, Kate's eyes still watching as he forced himself to look at the body in the sand. On the ground, with three bullet holes in his chest, was the shrapnel guy; dead, with no name.

"What the hell did you do?"

The demand escaped Jack without second thought, and he dropped to the ground, letting the gun parts fall beside him. On impulse Jack checked for a heart beat, but with the amount of blood spilt on the ground, it was obvious his condition: dead.

"What were you thinking?" Jack exclaimed, desperately trying to think of something he could still do to save the man, no matter how outrageous it seemed. He looked up at her, unable to look at the body any longer, not wanting to face it. The man was dead. There was nothing he could do. "I was going to save him!"

"No you weren't!" Kate cried out, shouting over the cool air.

Her whole body was trembling now.

"Yes I was!" Jack protested, jumping to his feet to face Kate. "I was going to save him, and he was going to live."

"No you weren't!" Kate shouted again, her voice shaking. "He was dying, Jack!"

"At least until we can get him to a hospital!" Jack yelled. "He would've been fine!"

"A hospital?" Kate breathed. She let out a laugh, running a hand over her ponytail. "Does it look like we're going to be in a hospital anytime soon, Jack? You couldn't save him." She met his eyes helplessly, making Jack think that she actually meant what she said next: "I'm sorry."

Jack shook his head. He wouldn't accept it. This couldn't of been his fault, not this time. Not when Kate was standing right here, a gun in her head. Though if someone were to walk into the scene at that moment, the gun would be closest to him, and it would be his fingerprints on the body..Jack shook his head again. Now that was an outrageous thought.

"You murdered him," Jack accused coldly.

Kate's expression softened immediately, changing gracefully into hurt. The comment clearly had an effect on her, and Jack almost regretted saying it as the shock in Kate's eyes was gone, replaced by stunned sadness.

"You don't know me," Kate whispered, her voice wavering worse than ever.

Staring at her, Jack fought the moment to analize her words, her emotion. Earlier Jack was sure she was beginning for forgiveness, but now it was more of an understanding, like Jack was supposed to get something. But all Jack got was that she killed an innocent man.

"You killed him, Kate," Jack said, less forcefully this time, "what did he ever do to you?"

Kate shook her head, biting her lower lip in attempts to hold back tears.

"You don't know me," Kate repeated, and turned and walked away before Jack could see her watering eyes.

(space)

Night past slowly, but not steadily. Jack stayed on the beach while Kate resumed to be missing once again. Knees pulled up to his chest, Jack found himself unable to sleep a wink as he kept a watchful eye on the shore, as if he had been dubbed protector of the island. Shrapnel guy's dead body lay behind him, and as time past it began to feel like a personal duty to sit there, as if he owed it to the man. As if he deserved to be forced to wallow in his own guilt. If only rescue had come..why hadn't rescue came?

When morning finally arrived, despite his exhaustion, Jack dug a shovel out of some of the wreckage. Only for a moment did he question why a shovel would be on a plane; by the time he reached the body the puzzlement was long forgotten. Alone he dragged the body a little ways off the beach, carrying it to a solitary space of curved land, grass perfectly moist for digging. It was almost eerie. Sitting down the body, Jack stuck the head of the shovel into the ground, but found himself unable to dig the first hole. He was frozen, staring at the ground in helplessness. It shouldn't be this man, Jack thought in horrific realization, it should be my father. Sweat was already dripping down his forehead, and Jack wiped his face with an arm as his eyes began to sting. Jack forced himself together, and with every ounce of energy he could pull together, began digging.

As he dug Jack tried not to think about Kate and her whereabouts. He tried to tell himself that she had murdered someone, she didn't deserve sympathy. But even if that's what the rule said, Kate's haunting eyes came to mind, and the desperateness in them. Jack began digging faster despite his promise to pace himself. When he met her Jack was so sure that there was something different about Kate, but then again he never decided what that was.

"Jack?"

He looked up. Kate was standing there, dried tears gathered on her face. She wasn't wearing eyeliner, Jack observed, or any type of makeup for that matter. Was it because she didn't care, or did she not have the time? Jack nearly laughed, realizing that just a few moments ago he was trying to figure out why this woman was a murderer.

"What are you doing?" Kate asked in a demanding voice, watching Jack as he forced the shovel deeper and deeper into the ground. His arms and back were aching, but Jack made himself ignore it. He had to finish the graves.

"I'm burying him," Jack replied, more forcefully than he meant.

Kate stared at him.

"Why?" She finally asked, like the answer offended her.

Jack looked up.

"Because I have to," Jack responded truthfully.

The man might not of been his father, but he was just another life Jack couldn't save. What happened to the days when people flew in from around the globe to praise him for his miracles?

"Why bury him and not the others?" Kate inquired, crossing her arms in confusion. "Don't they deserve a proper funeral?"

Jack sighed. Honestly he hadn't considered this, and felt guilty at the realization.

"Yeah," Jack nodded, "they do. But there's a lot of them. I figured we'd let rescue handle it."

"You seem so sure of yourself," Kate began.

She seemed back to her old self, admiring and indulgent. It was relieving. Suddenly Jack stopped in realization of what he was doing. Part of him, Jack observed, was wanting to forgive Kate..maybe even making excuses for her. The situation was too traumatic. Maybe she wasn't herself. Maybe she was sleepwalking. Maybe I was dreaming. But it all felt so real. The betrayal was so real.

"Maybe I have reason to be," Jack said lightly, laughing to himself.

Kate didn't respond. Instead she watched him, following his every move as he stuck the shovel in the ground, dug a hole, and repeated the process.

"Need some help?" She offered quietly.

Because of her soft voice Jack couldn't decide if she was sincere or guilty. Either way he was finding it very stressful to be in Kate's presence right now. Until he could find some understanding of her actions, Jack didn't know how long he'd be able to hold himself together, how long it would be until he lashed out.

"I've got it," Jack said, glancing towards her and holding his gaze for a split second before staring once again down into the almost-complete grave. The concept was actually becoming ridiculous, digging this hole just to refill it in short time; putting a life to a peaceful rest while in reality burying it, like you were hiding it away.

"I'm-" Kate began suddenly, cutting into Jack's thoughts before he was ready.

"Don't."

When he looked up, it was obvious she was hurt- once again- by his denial to her forgiveness. Why was she doing this? It was driving Jack insane..it was like she regretted the murder for him. Kate's eyes came close to watering again as she looked down and walked away again, opposite the direction of their camp. Jack looked after her, torturing his mind to understand her. At last Jack had to shake his head and go back to his work, too frustrated to make himself think.

An hour later Jack had the grave ready, and hesitantly dropped the shovel to begin the burial. He'd been so keen to bury the man that he forgot to search his pockets and clothing for any valuables, anything worth burying along with him or saving for family. Dropping to his knees, Jack felt alone now more than ever. Deep down he was hoping that Kate would come back, that she hadn't run off for good. Doing this alone, even just surviving here, was asking a lot from Jack's current state of mind. Jack let out a long, dramatic sigh, knowing no one was watching. When his sigh disappeared, Jack knew it was time to do this.

Unlatching the tarp Jack used for a body bag, he examined the man's wound one last time. Blood clotted at the old shrapnel wound, and a scar highlighted the cut on his head. Jack held his breath as he checked the man's jacket pockets. The first thing he found was a badge.

"So you were a marshal?" Jack asked the dead man. Smiling grimly, Jack sat the badge back down on the jacket. "Well thanks for your services. Sorry I don't have a flag or anything.."

Jack stopped short as his hands fell on a piece of paper. Slowly Jack pulled it out and was just about to take a peak at it when there was a crunch near by. Nearly jumping out of his skin Jack looked around, and sighed in relief when he saw nothing. He looked down at the piece of paper before placing it in his own pocket. Suddenly he wanted to hurry the process up.

When Jack was finished with the burial process and the last shovel of dirt was replaced, he began heading back to camp. Or what one would call camp. There was still a good deal of food left in the cart they pulled out of the wreckage, and Jack's rumbling stomach reminding him that he wasn't eating nearly as much as he used to- which wasn't much to begin with. Being deprived of coffee was also taking it's toll, but at least the loss of sleep wasn't a problem. It was something he was used to.

With the responsibility of taking care of the marshal- Edward Mars was the name Jack found on his drivers license- Jack hadn't given himself much time to think about much otherwise. As he walked through the jungle Jack grabbed a leaf from a tree and tore it piece by piece as each thought came to him. Would someone be there for him at work? What about the food in the fridge? The bills? Then the more serious thoughts hit him in a frightening florescent light. Did someone tell his mom about his father? How did she react? Jack began to become choked with guilt, knowing that she'd have to go through that alone.

Suddenly a light reflected in his eyes, causing him to shut his eyes quickly in surprise. Relieving himself from a momentary headache, Jack opened his eyes and looked down to see what caused the glisten. He frowned as he bent down and dug up the silver object, pulling it out of the ground with anxious anticipation; and Jack gasped softly as he saw what it was: handcuffs.

(space)

A soft sunlight welcomed him back to the beach, and Jack found himself sighing as he looked around the camp. Every time he walked away, some part of his mind became convinced that what he left, what was back there, wasn't true. It'd be like a dream, where you could only move forward. Anything behind you was false. It was all a trick. But then he'd return, see the smoke that still hung in the air, see the bodies, smell the blood, and he knew. He remembered.

His eyes scanned the beach in wonder of what was going to happen next. What was he supposed to do? Go after Kate, perhaps? But from what it looked like, he wouldn't have to. He was free from his worries when he saw that Kate had indeed returned to camp, and was sitting on the shore, letting the waves crash against her, no matter how roughly they were coming. She didn't hear him approached, or at least acted like she didn't. Jack froze when he reached her, realizing he had no clue what he wanted to say. Should he yell? Or should he go easy on her? Was that fair? Like Kate said, he didn't know her..

"I found these in the jungle," Jack began slowly to break the ice, "I was wondering if you've seen them before."

Dangling the handcuffs beside Kate, Jack watched her closely for a reaction, almost studying her. Just as he decided to back off a little, he noticed Kate tense.

"I'll take that as a no," Jack said quickly, bringing the handcuffs back and stuffing them in his back pocket. A new tension rose in the air, and Kate's appearance changed from distant to quite alert as she stiffened a little. Jack thought that at any wrong movement, Kate could've taken him down right then and there.

"What were you going to do?" Kate asked lightly after a few moments of silence. "Handcuff me to the wreckage?"

"Only if you want me to," Jack replied in efforts to keep up with Kate's comic relief.

He offered Kate a small smile which wasn't returned.

"I saw some smoke," Kate whispered following a short pause.

Jack knelt down next to her, interested.

"What?" He inquired.

"Just past the jungle," Kate said, her voice becoming slightly distant as she explained, "I thought you might like to know."

He considered what she was saying.

"Are you suggesting something? He asked, raising a hand.

Kate turned to him, offering him a glimpse into her facial emotions, showing off her sad eyes, still full of previous hurt and what could be guilt.

""I was thinking of the cockpit," Kate explained, "it's not here on the beach."

Jack looked around the beach curiously but, of course, she was right. He had said so himself the day before. The day before..he couldn't believe time was always being gathered.

"No," Jack agreed, "it's not."

Thinking about this, Jack realized what Kate was suggesting. The cockpit would include radio equipment, assuming it was all still intact, and most importantly, a transceiver. If they could get a signal and if it were still working properly, there was a chance they could send out an S.O.S. But that was a lot of 'ifs'.

"Well, we crashed through the jungle," Jack pointed out, "at least part of the way. It shouldn't be that far out."

"If you're thinking of going," Kate said quietly, "so am I."

A knot of nerves formed in Jack's stomach. He didn't know which would be harder, spending time in the jungle with Kate, knowing that she murdered someone, or spending time in the jungle with Kate.

"I'll go," Jack argued, attempting to take the easy way out.

"You're not going alone," Kate protested, "your back-"

Though he was flattered she was still concerned about him despite their strained communication, Jack felt the need to support his argument.

"My back's fine," Jack insisted, "what about rescue?" Kate snorted at the word. Jack closed his eyes, determined not to lose patience. "What are we going to do? Leave a note that says 'hey, went to the cockpit. Sorry we missed you.'?"

"Works for me," Kate smirked.

Jack sighed. Now he was just fighting a losing battle. Maybe he still had time to guilt her out of leaving before going. It wasn't that he wanted to leave her alone, but the truth was that were rescue to come while they went, they would be overlooked. And he certainly didn't want Kate going out there on his own. Just like Kate couldn't help to worry about his wound, he couldn't help but to worry about her safety. Whatever choice they made they'd be taking a risk. Looking down, Jack noticed the slightly dressy sandals Kate had been wearing since the crash.

"Well if you're going," Jack sighed, "You'll need some better shoes."

(space)

While he waited for Kate to get ready Jack got together a pack for himself, his fingers shaking a little as he unzipped a dead man's backpack. Inside was a traveler's guide to the States, a copy of The Odyssey, a thick notebook. From the items and a pair of reading glasses in the front pocket, Jack could make a fair guess that the man had been a professor. Placing the objects carefully next to the man's body, Jack refilled the bag with essentials for the jungle trek: water, first aid supplies, hand towels. Somehow he thought that if he brought supplies just in case of survivors, there'd be survivors. As he fished through the rest of the pockets in search for more memorabilia, he hit the jackpot: a compass. Thinking it might come in handy, Jack stuffed it in the pocket of the pair of jeans he reluctantly changed into, feeling guilty for borrowing clothes from the deceased passengers. His fingers rubbed against the sharp edge of paper, and Jack reached into his pocket, remembering the paper he retrieved from the marshal's pockets. Setting the compass down Jack slowly opened the paper, and when he saw what was on the inside, Jack was more convinced than ever this had to be a dream; no matter what he remembered. For a long second his mind stopped, and his eyes became glued to the picture that was printed on the page: a mug-shot. A mug-shot of Kate.

"You ready?"

With a jolt Jack had to concentrate hard on not exclaiming in surprise. Kate waited behind him, her own new backpack over slung over her shoulders, arm crossed. She was clearly anxious to get going. Despite almost getting caught at his discovery, it made Jack feel a little better seeing that Kate had changed clothes as well, or at least shoes. Jack quickly stuffed the paper back into his pocket, hoping Kate didn't see.

"Yeah," Jack said, a little too late.

Kate raised an eyebrow but didn't ask questions as Jack zipped up the backpack and through it over his shoulders.

"Let's go."