Thanks for the reivews. :)


Chapter Three: The First Meeting

Isn't anyone trying to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home?
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are but I
I'm with you
~Avril Lavigne, I'm With You

Kate Austen first met Jack Shephard when she was four years old.

The cloud of black smoke billows behind her, chasing her through the field of dark green. In the back of her mind she knows this is a dream, one she's been having an awful lot these days, but she doesn't wake up.

The scene has become so familiar that she is already expecting what will happen next. But expecting something and actually experiencing it are two different things, which she discovers as she falls off the cliff.

Her scream tears from her throat, lost in the roar of the waterfall beside her. She hits the lake with a splash, sinking beneath its depths. But she can't escape the monster for long. All too soon her air supply runs out – why that happens even in a dream, she doesn't know – and she is swimming for the surface.

She notices the difference abruptly once her head emerges from the water. Though she takes great gulps of fresh air, letting it fill her lungs, her attention is focused on the forest at the side of her vision.

Something is moving in the cover of the trees. It isn't the monster, that will flow down the face of the cliff in a few moments. She wonders what else could be there; in the many times she's had this dream, she has always been alone. Only she and the mysterious smoke monster have existed.

Curious to find something new she glides out of the water – more graceful than in real life; she's actually had only one swim lesson so far – and climbs onto the far bank. Before she can get the chance to explore, she hears the metallic clinking noise that announces the arrival of the monster.

She begins running, not because she is afraid, but because it's what is expected of her here. Her feet carry her through the trees, deeper into the heart of the jungle. She brushes away stray branches and leaves; despite her best efforts her hair is soon a tangled mess of twigs. But she has no concern for her appearance right now. Her attention is entirely focused on the faint light in front of her. This too is something she has not seen in her dream before.

She heads for it, her eagerness making her lose her focus enough to trip on a tree root. Sprawling face-first in the dirt, she winces when she hears a cracking sound from one of her legs. She cries out in pain, struggling to get up before the monster gets too close, her efforts in vain when her injured leg gives out beneath her.

Suddenly a hand is reaching out to her in the darkness, pulling her to her feet and, strangely enough, erasing most of her pain. She feels the rough, calloused palm against hers and manages to find the strength to move, albeit a little slowly.

"Come on," the owner of the hand calls. She is startled to hear the voice of a young boy; his hands feel like those of a much older man. The darkness pulls away enough for her to take in his appearance.

Short, chestnut-coloured hair frames his face, highlighting the brown in his deep hazel eyes. He moves with a grace unheard of for someone his age – maybe just a year older than her, she thinks.

"We have to move," he says again, urging her forwards. She grasps his hand tighter, holding on for dear life, thankful she is no longer alone in this strange place. She tries to ask him questions – who is he, where did he come from? – as they run, but his sole focus is to keep moving.

She gives in, simply grateful for another human presence as she and the boy push each other faster, trying to escape their impending doom, together


The smell of smoke drifting into the bedroom slowly aroused her from unconsciousness. She wanted to lie still and hold onto what remained of her dream – so much nicer than the ones she usually had – but the smell was too strong. Coughing, she grudgingly rolled out of bed and pried open the stiff, dusty window. She stared out at the crowded street below her, reveling in the scent of the fresh breeze as it drove away the smokiness, her mind still occupied with her latest nightmare.

Maybe she kept dreaming about a pillar of smoke because she smelt it so much during her waking hours. Was it possible that her subconscious managed to manifest her disgust for the odour in her dreams?

"Kate, are you up?" her mom called from the kitchen, interrupting her internal debate.

Taking one last look at the scene in front of her – thankful that, while she and her family didn't live in the best neighborhood, at least their apartment had a decent view – she slowly made her way into the kitchen.

"Mommy why are you smoking in here?" she asked, sprinting around the corner and skidding to a stop along the tiled floor. Diane was sitting at the table, cigarette in one hand, newspaper in the other. She hadn't opened any windows, making the smoky scent even stronger in here. Almost gagging, Kate rushed to open the glass door that led onto a small balcony.

"What are you doing?" Diane asked, watching her daughter curiously.

"Getting rid of the smell," Kate explained, as if this should be obvious. "Daddy hates it."

Her mother sighed, taking a long drag on her cigarette before putting it out.

"So what do you want for breakfast today, Katie? You have to eat fast so we can go to the grocery store."

The little girl hopped up to the table eagerly. "Frosted Flakes please," she answered.

"Are you sure you don't want Cheerios?" Diane wondered. She'd heard that most young children liked routine for their breakfast cereal. "That's what you had yesterday."

Kate shook her head vehemently. "Nah. It's borin' having the same thing every day. I wanna be different. Keep it fresh."

Diane laughed at her grave expression. "I think you've been listening to your father too much," she said, still chuckling as she placed Kate's favourite red bowl in front of her. It never failed to amaze her the things her daughter could come up with.

"So why Frosted Flakes?" she asked. "I know we don't have a lot of cereals to choose from, but why not Froot Loops?"

This time it was Kate's turn to laugh, then abruptly she turned serious again. "'Cause Frosted Flakes are gr-r-reat, Mommy. And today's gonna be a gr-r-reat day. I just know it."

"Oh yeah?" Despite trying to match Kate's solemn tone, Diane's voice managed to hold a bit of amusement in it, deep underneath the surface. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm gonna meet a new friend today," she said brightly, remembering the boy in the jungle. "I know 'cause I dreamed it last night. And Daddy always says that dreams are how we tell the future."

"Of course," Diane agreed fervently. "So where are you going to meet this friend?"

Kate frowned, puzzling over the question as though her life depended on it. "I dunno," she finally admitted, causing her mother to smile brightly.

"Well I guess you'll just have to wait and see. Maybe we'll meet your friend on our way to the store. But we can't go until you finish eating, so hurry up and let's go."

The little girl nodded, grinning hugely and shoveling her food in her mouth, excited to begin the day's adventure.


When Jack awoke that morning he lay still, yesterday's events completely forgotten. Only when he felt something tickling his nose did he slide his eyes open, his forehead wrinkling in confusion as he stared up at a dark gray sky.

Scratching his nose absently he jumped when his fingers connected with something alive; a bug. That was when he realized that the comfy sheets he thought he was lying on were nothing more than blades of grass.

At first he didn't understand. What was he doing outside? Why wasn't he in his bed? And then it slowly came back to him: walking in the door last night only to be forced out minutes later by his father. This morning he woke up homeless. The thought brought back his previous feelings of panic from last night.

Instead of rejoicing at finally being free, the way he had yesterday morning – a freedom that he understood now to be entirely false; back then he'd still had a place to call home – Jack had walked until his feet ached and he threatened to collapse from exhaustion. Then, too tired to move another step, he'd sat down on the soft grass beside a park bench, staring with wide-eyes at the bright lights of the night around him. So exhausted that he felt like he was about to collapse at any second, he'd refused to fall asleep, afraid what would happen when he closed his eyes.

So he had sat, unmoving and out of site from passersby, until the first rays of sun began peeking over the horizon. Only then had he allowed himself to relax and, feeling more at ease in the daytime, close his eyes, drifting into a deep and dreamless sleep.

And now – he didn't know how much later, but he didn't feel rested at all so he couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours – the sun had disappeared behind the almost-black clouds of a promising storm.

He wondered what he would do if it started to rain. Where would he go?

Maybe his father had calmed down a bit after last night and would be willing to let him come home. Jack highly doubted it; the fierce light in his father's eyes didn't look like it would go away after one night. And even if his father was more forgiving now, Jack wasn't sure he even wanted to go home. If Christian would so easily throw him out on the street, how did Jack know he wasn't going to do it again for some other stupid reason?

No, he would do better to stay out here rather than go back home. After all, not even his mother looked like she would miss him that much. The way she'd let Christian bully Jack around last night brought angry tears to his eyes now. He brushed them away, refusing to feel betrayed by a woman who clearly didn't care about him at all.

He'd just have to make it by on his own.

Remembering that he still had some supplies left in his backpack from his attempted run-away yesterday, Jack quickly pulled it out from underneath his head – it had been his makeshift pillow last night – and took inventory. He had an extra pair of shorts and a shirt, one more stale granola bar, the picture of his grandpa, and the decanter.

It wasn't much, but it would have to do. His stomach grumbled loudly but he refused to eat the granola bar yet; he'd wait until his hunger grew worse. This time when his stomach rumbled it wasn't from hunger, but from fear. For the first time he realized just how desperate his situation was. He had almost no food and no way of getting more.

He had no money – wasn't that the reason he'd ran away in the first place – and at first he shied away from the idea of stealing; ever since he'd been old enough to walk his parents had drilled it into him how it was wrong to take things that didn't belong to him.

But hadn't they taken his home away from him? And hadn't they stolen his right to have a happy, normal childhood? Did that mean stealing wasn't so bad? They weren't being punished for what they did to him, so maybe he wouldn't be either. And it wasn't like he would take things just for the fun of it. His actions were only for survival. That had to count for something, right?

He was about to find out.


Standing in front of the tiny supermarket – cushioned between a discount jewelry shop and a fortune telling establishment, just around the block from where he'd fallen asleep last night – Jack hefted his backpack into a more comfortable position on his shoulders, pushed open the swinging glass doors, and stepped inside.

Staring at the rows and rows of food, stacked on shelves as tall as the ceiling, his stomach rumbled, the sound seeming to echo across the white-washed walls and down the aisles. He fought to control the blush rising in his cheeks, trying to quite his discontented body.

He'd given in and eaten the granola bar, grimacing at the stale taste with every bite, but it had done nothing to ease his pains of hunger. In fact, he was beginning to think his small snack had made them worse.

He began wandering aimlessly, walking up and down the aisles, staring at all the different food products, trying to build up the nerve to take something. It was simple, he'd decided; all he had to do was slip something small in his backpack and walk out. The biggest problem he had to face was remaining calm and not act guilty.

But he was guilty. He was already feeling it. The thought of taking even one thing without paying for it was twisting his stomach into knots even worse than the hunger. That was why he was only going to take one thing; something that he could make last for a while so he wouldn't have to resort to stealing again any time soon.

He hoped he'd have a place to call home again before then, but he wasn't overly optimistic.

Now he just had to choose something. He was debating the pros and cons of crackers versus a small box of cereal when the doors opened again, sending in a rush of cold air. Jack shivered, rubbing his hands along his arms for warmth. He wished he'd thought to pack a jacket.

The storm was continuing to brew outside, he could see the clouds drawing closer out the window. Jack wondered how long he could stay in here without being too conspicuous; he wasn't prepared to battle the rain right now.

He watched idly as a girl who couldn't be much younger than himself pulled her mother along eagerly, heading down the dessert isle. He glanced down, jealousy making his heart beat faster; that girl didn't know how lucky she was.

Jack went back to strolling around the store, finally settling on a package of pretzels, which he shoved into his pack, looking around furtively. A quick glance out the window showed the weather was rapidly worsening, but he knew he couldn't stay in here any longer. The best he could hope for would be to find some sort of shelter before the rain hit.

Walking quickly towards the doors, his steps speeding up as his nervousness increased, Jack almost made it to out before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, whipping around to see the store clerk glaring at him, his arms crossed over his chest.

Not even pausing to think, Jack bolted for the exit, flinching as the clerk's hand shot out to grab his backpack. The man ripped it open, his eyes flashing with anger as the pretzel bag fell out, along with all of the pack's other contents. Jack dropped to the ground, snatching the decanter before it could hit the tiled floor and smash into a million pieces.

"Were you going to pay for this?" the employee asked, shaking the snack food bag vigorously.

Jack couldn't move, he was frozen in fear and shame. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the young girl watching him intently; he looked away, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"I said were you planning to buy this, or were you just going to walk out of here with it you dirty, rotten thieft?" the man asked again. Without waiting for an answer, he hauled Jack to his feet, dragging him to the cash register.

"I guess I'm just going to have to call your parents then, if you won't talk to me. What's their number?" Again Jack had no answer. There was no way he was about to involve his parents in this; they were already ashamed of him, he didn't need to make things worse.

"I could always involve the police..." the clerk said, trailing off threateningly. Jack found himself unfreezing at his words. He had no idea what to do if the police came here. Would they arrest him? He couldn't take that chance.

Wrenching himself free of the man's grip, Jack raced to the door, stooping to pick up his things and shove them into his pack before dashing outside. He refused to stop despite the store's attendant cursing at him, his words following Jack down the street.

Turning a corner, he raced down an alley, pausing behind a dumpster to catch his breath. He shivered violently, feeling the first raindrops hit his skin. Too afraid to look for a better place to hide, Jack curled up against the green metal, his back resting against a brick building behind him.

His heart was still racing and he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He'd been caught; that much, at least, had sunk in. But what would he have done if the police had showed up? He couldn't keep running away forever. And he couldn't hide away forever either. Being as young as he was, he was likely to get noticed wandering around the streets all the time.

He needed a more permanent solution...

The sound of someone breathing heavily caught his attention, silencing his thoughts. He automatically recoiled against the wall, as though trying to disappear inside it. Jack frowned at himself for being so cowardly. If it was time for him to face the music, then what good would hiding do? He would walk forward with his head held high, the way he had last night; he would be intimidated no longer.

Peering around the side of the dumpster, ready to walk out at any moment, but not wanting to give away his presence for the wrong person – he could never be too careful, after all – he was surprised at the sight that greeted him. It was the girl from the store, the brunette one who was watching him being caught for shoplifting at the front of the store. What was she doing here? She must have chased after him, he assumed, judging by the way she was panting. She was fast to have caught up with him this quickly.

"I can see you," she said, giggling softly. "Why don't you come out? I'm not gonna bite."

Jack clenched his fists. Now he was even being teased by a little girl? He wasn't about to take that lying down.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, walking towards her, trying to intimidate her. "Why did you follow me?"

"What's your name?" she said in return, ignoring his question and standing her ground despite his close proximity. He had to admit, he was a little impressed by her bravery.

"What's yours?" Jack countered, not about to give in to her tactics.

"I'm Kate," she replied cheerfully. "And I followed you 'cause I've met you before. In a dream."


A/N: No, this fic isn't going to involve the Island in any way, I just couldn't stop myself from giving Old Smokey an appearance. The land of dreams is a strange place, after all. ;)