On An Island
Chapter Six
Author's Note: For any Skaters who may be reading this, there's a note for you at the bottom about stealing a certain one of your scenes for this fic's use.
Disclaimer: No way am I trying to promote alcohol in this chapter. My personal opinon of it may never be the same of any character in any of my stories, and so I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't try this at home.
Chapter Seven: Haunted
It was sill early when Jack woke up, the sun hadn't even fully risen yet. A light shade of purple was painted across the horizon, lines of yellowing dancing through it like plaid sheets, wavy, fresh out of the dryer. Everything about the early hour was perfect, like walking into a stadium hours before the big game. One breath and fresh air could ease your lungs, the peaceful surrounding calming any worries or fears in sight. And because of this, Jack was little surprised to find Kate sitting by the ocean's shore, lounging in one of the chairs salvaged from the wreckage, letting her feet hover just about the incoming tide, water washing around it in cool splashes. She was smiling, he observed, her hair pulled back into a sweaty ponytail. A half-drunk bottle off water lay by her side, along with a pair of sneakers.
"Did you go for a run?" Jack asked curisouly as he approach.
Kate jumped a little at his voice, shoulders shaking as though he were just a voice in the wind.
"Yeah," she replied, "you should try it sometime."
Chuckling, Jack silently agreed to consider her proposal.
"I do," Jack said, "run, I mean. Tour de Stade."
"Nice accent," Kate smirked.
Jack shrugged it off with a simper. He settled down into the sand, wishing that he too had a chair to sit on. It wasn't that he hated the beach, but these jeans weren't going to last forever, and the sand became irritating after awhile. He could definetly see sense in Kate's change of heart.
"It's where you run all the levels of a stadium," Jack continued, "up and down."
"Wow," Kate commented, impressed. "I guess I shouldn't challenge you for a race then."
Jack grinned.
"I'm up for that," he said. Glancing towards Kate's bottle of water, Jack suddenly felt hungry. He didn't want to run out of the conversation so soon, but he had come here straight after waking up. Sleep still sat just inside his eye, tempting him to lay backdown and fall into a world of peaceful dreaming. Which wouldn't last long. Nightmares frequently haunted him, if not of the crash then of his father, taunting him like the vision of him he saw the night before. Feeling suddenly supersticious, Jack glanced behind him. Nothing was there except a burnt pile of wreckage that used to be the fusealage. A few flames still flickered, shedding an orange glow against the pale sand; later he decided to set fire to the circle again, just for some hope. "You should go, sometime."
"What?" Kate asked him, puzzled. "On a tour de, whatever?"
"Stade," Jack finished for her. He shrugged. "Unless, of course, you don't think you could finish."
Kate crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. Jack grinned, knowing he hit a nerve. She clearly didn't like to be challenged.
"I know I could finish," Kate protested warningly. She turned away, a mischevious grin picking at her lips. "I just don't want you to feel down when I outrun you."
"Right," Jack snorted, "you outrun me. And how many times have you run this thing?"
"We'll see," Kate said with a smile.
Jack grinned.
"It's a date, then."
The casual tone didn't mean for the comment to bring in such a heavy pause, taking them both into a silence as they considerd that there would never be a chance for that 'date' to happen. Even if they were to get off the island, there would be no hanging around for Kate.
"You want something to eat?" Jack asked a few moments later, swallowing to end the silence.
Kate smiled sadly, staring distantly into the waves rushing below her feet.
"Sure."
(space)
Knealed to the sand, Kate didn't notice Jack as he approached. He slowed his pace, frowning as he stopped to observe what she was doing. A lighter in her hand, Kate was crouched low to a suitcase, oblivous to the world around her. Carefully he approached her, though he disturbed her with his voice anyway:
"Hey."
The call made Kate jump, the lighter autimatically flicking off. Something sliped out of her hand, something small and plastic, like a credit card.
"What're you doing?" He asked, confused. Looking around, Jack placed his hands on his hips, puzzled.
Kate stood up slowly, hiding the object in her hands behind her back.
"Jack-" she began, keeping her face to the ground in a cowarding way.
Once again he had the unintentional feeling of being inferior to her, somehow her presence seeming smaller than before. It was as though she were cowarding, ashamed of whatever it was she had to hide.
Unexpectingly, even to Jack, he reached out, grabbing her arm roughly to reveal the object in her hand: a passport. Jerking away, Kate gasped as she tried to escaped her grip, but Jack only held onto her tighter.
"What're you doing?" He demanded, face contorted into anger. Anger because already, even though he had no answer, Jack knew she was betraying him again. Because when she did betray him, she had that same, small apperance, and that same cowarding look on her face. It wasn't judgment, it was like a compulsive behavior. A tick. "What the hell are you doing with this?"
"I-" Kate attempted, breaking off as she stared deeper into the ground, as if trying to burn a whole into it, planning yet another escape route.
Subconsiouly, Jack gripped her arm even tighter, hardly aware of doing so. Kate winced madly, flinching at the red dots that appeared underneath his fingers.
"If rescue comes-" Kate started immediatly, jumping into a frantic explination, "if the signal fire works...they're gonna take me in, Jack." She looked up to him them, her fearful eyes dancing around his. They were everything of hope and desperation, meeting his in one last attempt to gain his understanding. "They'll take me in, Jack."
He didn't know exactly why she repeated her statement, if only in attempts to steal his heart away with her desperation. But right away she didn't do that, only caused him to stare at her in wonder. She was smart, that was certain. And if she was smarter than he was, at least in this game, she could run over him like a lost puppy on the highway, a very little being in a very big, very hectic, world that he didn't understand.
Slowly, Jack let go of Kate's hand.
"Okay," he said, meet her eyes, now returning his former confusion.
"Okay?" She repeated uncertainly.
Jack nodded, eyeing the marks he'd made on her arm with guilt.
"If rescue comes, use that passport," Jack pointed to the fallen plastic sheet on the ground, "create a new identiy, get a new name. Whatever. I won't tell anyone."
She eyed him suspicously. He couldn't blame her for being unsure, not knowing where her trust lay just yet. They knew so little about each other that it was amazing they were still on a talking level. She'd excepted Jack's offer of a blank slate, but she couldn't really know why he did it. For her? For both of them? And yet, it seemed like all they could do was trust each other, because that was the only positive thing going for them at the moment.
"Seriously?" Kate finally asked.
Jack nodded again.
"Seriously."
Offering her a smile, sympathy escaped him; because he knew Kate was right. They'd take her, no matter what she or he said to convince them otherwise. They'd take her, and everything between them would be dead. For that split moment, Jack couldn't imagine not being on the island, not having Kate there. Any frame of rescue seemed impossible.
"Okay," Kate said, returning his smile quickly before looking to the ground again, hiding her gratefulness at his offer.
"Okay," Jack repeated, smiling a little again as he hoistened his backpack to his shoulder, turning to go, leaving Kate to further her escape route- a real one, this time.
(space)
"Fruit?" Kate asked Jack, tossing him a mango as he walked past her on the beach.
"Is it just me," Jack began, accepting the food, "or is all we do around here sit around and eat?"
Kate smiled.
"Someone's got to," she remarked. "Where're you headed?"
Jack's face widened into a smile of secrecy. Actually, he had come for her.
"I've got something to show you," he replied mischeviously.
Walking on, Jack assumed Kate would follow him out of suspicion, and she did, chasing after him through dunes of sand. Curiosity did get the better of her, as he had planned, and soon Kate began interrogating him, curiosity soon turning into irritability. It was almost amusing.
"Where are we going?" Kate demanded for the third time. "Jack-"
"You're not a very patient person, are you?" Jack mused, a smile still peeking out of his lips.
"Why won't you just tell me?" Kate insisted, fighting to keep up with his quick-pace. Finally she fell into step with him, though her frustration was still visible. "You're not one of those guys who secretly plans romantic dinners, are you?" Jack didn't answer her. He decided to let her keep guessing, though by now he was beginning to fear that she'd be disapointed. Maybe this was a bad idea... "The candles and the moonlight thing? Come on, Jack, that stuff is so cheesy."
When he continued to fall silent, Kate looked worried. Face hardening with seriousness, Kate cleared her throat.
"I mean, if that is it, then that's great!" She said, attempting to redeem herself. Jack just kept quiet, now considering the consequences of his surprise. Before he himself had been surprised, too taken aback to be worried. But now, what was going through his mind was, did they have enough food? Water? Would the sun be too hot for this to work? "I mean, they're not so bad. Free food's free food, right?"
As they grew closer, Jack found that his mind was clearing up. It was the excitment of finding the perfect gift for someone, and then worrying while they were opening it that it wasn't good enough; but then came the smile across their face, the deilght in the present. Or, at least, fake delight. Jack frowned, reconsidering again. He almost stopped to think, but kept going, almost feeling like it was against his will.
"But, I mean, if it's from the heart," Kate babbled on, "that's really sweet, but I think we need to talk about this. It's a big move, you know..."
"Sh!" Jack interrupted, whispering and holding a finger to his lips.
Kate stopped, puzzled.
"But, you know," Kate went on quietly, "if that's not it..."
Suddenly Jack stopped, holding a hand to silence her. They were aproaching a band of trees that sat by the jungle, marking the entrance into the mysterious forest. A single tree stood out amongst the others, making perfect room for Jack to tie to it a panting, sweaty, yellow-white Retriever. The dog looked comfortable enough in the sun, but Jack was still worried about keeping the animal out on the beach, where the temperatures could go well into the nineties on an average day, were one to be directly in the sun. Luckily, he guessed, the season was turning into the fall.
"A dog," Kate finally breathed, pulling a strand of hair behind an ear in emabarrasment.
Jack made an effort to smile.
"Not a romantic dinner," he teased, "but at least when we need food, we won't have to go chasing down a boar now."
He smirked, knowing that'd pinch a nerve.
"Jack!" Kate exclaimed.
And sure enough...
Jack grinned, just to spite her.
"You're not really going to kill it, are you?" Kate demanded, voice pleading with worry.
Knealing down, she scratched the dog behind its ears, all signs showing that she was pleased with the pet. Jack felt a wave of worry leave him. He didn't know why he had been so worked up over this...it was a dog, not an engagment ring or first date.
"No," Jack assured her with pleasure, "he would make a good sandwhich though."
"You're discusting," Kate scrowled, holding the dog close. In a child-like voice Jack never guess Kate posessed, she said to the animal: "I'll protect you from that mean jerk."
"I'm a jerk now?" Jack pouted lightly.
Examining the rope that had the dog was tied to, Kate considered her answer.
"How would you like it if someone tied you to a tree and threatened to make you into a sandwhich?" Kate challenged.
"You got me," Jack offered. "Can we stop with the insults?"
Kate ignored him, continuing to scratch the dog behind the ears as she examined it, as though it brought some kind of comfort to her. That had been one of the reasons Jack considered taking the dog in in the first place: it was like a third party, someone to keep them company besides each other. Someone to go to for comfort, were they to fight. Of course, he imagined that would probably put the mut in the middle of some very sticky arguments.
"What's his name?" Kate asked, interrupting Jack's thoughts.
The question surprised him; he hadn't concidered it. The dog seemed well-trained enough, it followed and obey Jack without protest. But that was what he remained: "The Dog".
"I dunno," Jack shrugged, "Sparky?"
"How original," Kate snorted, sratching the dog's fur thoughtfully. He wondered if maybe Kate had some kind of dog- or any kind of pet, for that matter. She seemed so comfortable with him, so put at ease. "How about Vincent?"
"Vincent?" Jack repeated, blinking.
It seemed so...plain-like. After all, it was a person's name.
"I had a fish named Vincent once," Kate explained, reminincing with a smile.
Jack snorted. Truthfully, he didn't care what they named the dog. It seemed odd, already, to think that it belonged to them. Their dog. And to think that its true owner could be laying in the burnt rubble nearby made him feel sick. Jack swallowed.
"You're naming him after a fish?" He inquired with forced amusment.
"Vincent it is, then," Kate announced with a smile, continuing to scratch the dog- Vincent's- fur with joy.
Smiling a little, Jack looked away out of habit, eyes falling on a single figure standing in the shallow tide that was sweeping the beach, ignoring the waters that rushed beneath him, surely splashing against the black suit he was wearing. But the man didn't seem to be bothered, which, Jack thought, was odd. His father would've had the cause of his newest suit getting ruined taken in for questioning. Jack blinked.
Just like that, his father was gone. Like the night before.
"Jack?" Kate asked, worried.
Snapping back into reality, Jack forced a smile, and replied, more to himself than to her:
"Vincent it is."
(space)
The day seemed to go by quickly, hours passing like the incoming waves and leaving clouds. Settling by the shore, this time taking one of the chairs along, Jack spent ours throwing a tennis ball he found to the dog. It seemed like the highlight of Vincent's week, getting to catch the ball and race it back to him, all the while with Jack absently playing along, letting his feet rest in the tide his father stood just hours ago.
"Hey," Kate greeted. She had a black duffel thrown over her shoulders, the bulk of it appearing to be a burden to her light bodyweight.
"What's this?" He asked curiously, keeping the saliva-coated tennis ball in his hands when Vincent brought it back to him next.
"Not fan batteries," Kate smirked, rolling her eyes as she relieved herself of the bag's weight, setting it down. "This," she went on, "is from the liqur cart."
"I thought we were saving that," Jack reminded, frowning.
Rubbing his chin against Jack's hand, Vincent wrestled the ball out of his palms, letting it fall to the ground. He looked down at it pitifully, and Jack half-heartly picked it up and threw it out down the sand further than before.
"Don't worry," Kate said teasingly, "there's still enough left for whatever huge accident you're planning."
"I'm just saying-" Jack attempted.
"Come on, Jack," Kate said in that light agitated way she had, letting him know that she was annoyed, but still being playful about it. She let the contents of the back roll onto the ground. Mixes of different kinds of alcohol and even a few bottles of beer felt into the sand. It was funny, used to when he thought of drinks and an island, he thought of rum and coconut juice. "It's, what, five, ten each?" She smiled. "It's not like we're gonna drink it all in one go."
Jack eyed the alcohol with distaste. Because of his father's abuse of the drink, Jack tended to stay away from it. Except for special occasions. Somehow, though, now just didn't feel like the time. Ahead darker clouds rolled in, turning the sky colors of soft red and purple, signaling the change into night. He sighed, looking around subconsiouly. Every now and then he'd get the feeling that someone was following him or watching him.
"I don't drink," Jack tried. Kate was already seating another chair next to him. She had her heart set on this, having a drink with him, for some reason. "Health stuff...runs in my family. Risks, you know?"
He stopped immediatly, looking down. Kate offered him a sympathetic smile. Jack caught it out of the corner of his eye.
"Alcoholism runs in my family too," she said quietly, reassuringly. Jack looked up at her, a mixture of interest and even an unexplainable hope dancing in his eyes.
Chosing not to reply, his eyes deverted to the ground, landing on the bag of alcohol ready, waiting, at his feet. At last he sighed.
"Fine," he agreed relucantly, "but only a few-" he waved his finger at her teasingly, "I know my limits."
"I'm sure you do," Kate said, smiling over a plastic cup she was mixing a drink in.
As she finished fixing the drink she relaxed into her seat, like one would on a hot summer's day, nursing a lemonade as they lay in a hammock. But they'd never have either of those here. Jack was surprised to find how fast his mind was moving as he fixed his own drink, everything from the first time his dad came home drunk(which actually rarely happened, though it was obvious when he'd had a drink or two), to his mother warning him about the risks of alcohol, as if he didn't know already. Across from his Kate took her first sip of the drinking, closing her eyes as though it were a taste of heaven. Bringing the cup away from her lips, Kate looked around their camp thoughtfully.
"We deserve this," she said confidently.
Jack nodded.
"We do," he agreed.
He brought the cup to his lips, a smaller one than Kate had(subconsiouly chosen), and took his first sip of the drink as well. Jack winced. Sour and warm, the liquid probably wasn't of its best quality, but already Jack could've sworn he was feeling its affects. Mind easing a little, Jack finally let himself relax into the moment.
"How about a game?" Jack offered, a hint of a mischivous tone playing in his voice.
Kate smiled wickedly.
"Now who's the life of the party?" She teased. Jack wondered, at that moment, if perhaps Kate already had something to drink, even before aproaching him. Maybe she just wanted company. "What's the game?"
Jack studied his glass thoughtfully. He'd actually only been to a few parties in his lifetime, but he remembered one in partiuclar that almost went too far with a game they'd chose to play. It wasn't one built off of naming states or anything like that, but of personal experience and questions. The reason the party almost went too far is because the game had become a little too personal, but the game itself may have been just what he and Kate needed, for the sake of getting to know each other better. As long as they attempted to control how deep the game dove.
"I never," Jack replied proudly. Kate raised an eyebrow, and Jack offered an explination. "It's simple. I ask you if you've ever done something, and if you have, you drink."
Kate snorted.
"That's ridduclous," she remarked.
Jack shrugged, breaking into a small smile.
"Just a way to get to know each other better," he said, "but, if you don't want to know more about me-"
"Okay!" Kate exclaimed, maybe a little too loudly, too desperatly. He'd knew that'd get her...he suspected if there was one thing he'd secretly discovered about her was that she liked to know who she was dealing with. She liked to know how much hope was in this person, letting herself figure out for herself if this person was good or not, worth putting her hope into. Kate never came out directly with this, but it was obvious; in her eyes, in the concern of her voice, her uncertainty. Not that she didn't have a genuine care about her, she did. But she was certainly curious, even if she didn't always show it. Who, in this situation, wouldn't be? "Care to start?"
"Sure," Jack said, sitting up in the seat, "for example, I've never had long hair."
Kate laughed at him.
"Not even in the seventies?" She inquired.
"It was never ithat/i long," Jack insisted. "And so now you drink, because you have long hair."
Jack grinned at her, and Kate rolled her eyes.
"That was pathetic," she snorted, taking a sip of her drink.
"You go, then," Jack retorted.
"Okay..." Kate began thoughtfully, finguring the cup in her hands hungrily. "I've never been to college."
Jack stared at her.
"Come on," there was that teasing voice again, "you're a doctor!"
"Exactly," Jack said, pointing at her, "med school."
"But there had to of been pre-requisinted classes," Kate attempted desperatly.
"But most of it was med school," Jack said again, putting more effort into his argument.
Kate rolled her eyes.
"That makes no sense," she claimed, but took a drink anyway. Looking at him over the tip of her glass, Kate eyed him darkly. "That was low."
"That's the game," Jack said happily. He was surprised to realize that he was enjoying himself. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea afterall. "My turn. I've never stolen a car."
Kate rolled her eyes again, taking yet another sip of her drink. It was time for her to pour another. As she mixed the next cup, Jack watched. Even though he was winning to the game, a tingling feeling in his taste buds yearned to tase the alcohol, for its effects eased his confused, and frankly, traumatized, mind. But he didn't really want to help himself that way. That was his father's way of doing things.
"I've never had a job," Kate announced proudly, lips firm in confidence at her try.
Raising an eyebrow, Jack paused before he took a drink. The cup in his hands suddenly felt like it weighed a ton, mocking him for his hesitance.
"You've never had a job?" Jack repeated, stunned.
"Not a real one," Kate grinned mischeviously, "not a legal one."
He couldn't help but to laugh a little, deciding not to doubt her. She was on the run, he reminded himself, and much younger than he was. If she had been running for awhile, or possibly since childhood, a runaway from the get-go, there was a good possibility that Kate had never had a real- or legal- job. Jack took a long sip of his drink for good measure, appearing to compliment her smart statement, while really fulfilling his own needs. On his defense, his throat was terribly dry, if only from his lack of sleep. Besides the normal nightmares of the crash, failing to save the marshal, and his father, new nightmares of his father had risen in his first attempt to sleep last night, leaving him wide awake and frequently glancing around, fearful. He hated to admit it, but that's how he felt: afraid. But then again, he was seeing images of his dead father, who could blame him?
Nevertheless, ultimatly, that's why he took the drink.
"I've never left someone," Jack said next, proud to find that the truth. Of course, he had never been in many serious relationships- or hardly any kind of relationships, for that matter. His friend was digital cable, or an ever-so-often visit or call from his only friend left from his childhood, and teenage, years. His 'friends' would only be considering co-workers, people who would sometimes offer him an invite to lunch, mostly from pity. Especially during the last two months. But, to his shock and surprise, most despised him for what he did to his father, down to his own mother. But, in relation to his personal declarance in the game, he hadn't left his father. He hadn't pushed him away. He'd only done what was right. Or so he thought. For weeks on out he would sit up at night, wondering if it had all been worth it. In the end, he would decide against himself, apointing himself the goodguy in the situation, and roll over to try and go to sleep.
"I've never been left," Kate responded quickly.
His idea backfired on himself. Slighty shaken by the quick response and its truth, Jack's hands trembled as he lifted the cup to his mouth, taking another long sip, drowning the glass. Kate quickly reached to refill it, doing the deed of mixing another drink for him. He nodded a thanks, mind darkned with ideas of things to say, on a more personal level now. Kate didn't question his response, but she was clearly curious. Or maybe she wasn't surprised at all.
"I've never lost somebody something they loved," Jack began quietly, finding it hard to continue. His voice cracked a little in pain as he went on, tone darkening signfically, as was the sky and world around them. It was officially night now, and soon it would be cool. They'd need to build a fire. "And felt so ridiciously guilty about it, even though they loved that thing more than you."
Long and hard he had thought about the question, not wanting an answer from Kate so much as relieving himself the burden of the guilt he spoke of. Confession was good for the soul, they said, but honestly, Jack had never truly had someone he trust to confess to. All he had was a good friend or two, and he didn't want to lose them to sympathy or pity. He didn't know why he said this to Kate, for she was that one good friend here- if they could be considered friends- and who knew when they'd see another human being again. If all fails, Jack thought miserably, I could always talk to the dog. Maybe that's why Kate had given Vincent a human name; because it would've been so less embarrasing to be baring your soul to someone named 'Vincent' than to someone named 'Sparky'. That was one argument Jack was pleased Kate won.
A long moment passing between them, Jack didn't even look up for Kate's reply. He took the drink for himself, letting himself lose his own game. Feeling Kate's eyes watching him, he knew she was studying him carefully, observing him as he downed half the glass with the single comment, her response becoming long forgotten. The pause lasted longer than Jack had intended, but he didn't know how to pick himself back up. Only then did it occur to him that his 'I never' actually applied to him, and from the look of it, Kate picked up on that. And she decided to follow his lead, freeing him of his silence.
"I've never been hit by someone I cared about," she said quietly, almost in a whisper, voice horribly uneven and eyes never leaving Jack.
But she wasn't staring at him now, it was more like she was staring through him. Jack hardly noticed. He drank anyways. He was losing now, he knew, but he no longer cared. The dark effects of the drink were wearing in, and for the first time in his life, he understood why his father drank. Not his father's personal reason, but the ultimate reason: sometimes it just became too much. But still, as a kid Jack never understood why a simple 'C' on a history test or a burnt chocolate pie would send his father over the limit, or why he'd come home from an obvious night of drinking for no apparent reason whatsoever. For years Jack thought maybe it was him, or something he didn't know about his father's past. But then he decided: it was for nothing. That had to be it. What reason in the world could leave his father wanting to absolutly free himself of his mind, to be controled by something that wasn't himself, something he'd have no control over either. Nonstop, all the time. Jack stared down at his glass, contemplating his next response. He wanted it to be something good, something revealing, yet not too revealing. Something that would make her wonder, make her understand him as much as she wanted to be understood by he.
All awhile, Kate watched him, and out of the corner of his eye Jack was subconsiouly aware. He did, at last, catch a real glimpse of her stare, one so darkened, so determined, that Jack understood immediatly what was happening. She was playing him. Dishing out information about him, just like he knew she did. But this time, she had taken his own game and so easily taken control of it, manipulating it into her own sport and using it against him. She was trying to sort out his darkest secrest, to detect if they could compare at all to her own, if his level of pain could ever match her own. If he could ever really understand her. Because it'd be she who would decide that, in the end. She was taking note of his experience, what caused him to apeared troubled, haunted. The emotions he so careful hid while around her, mostly for her benifit, so she would feel safe, knowing that at least one of them were in the right place of mind, had control. But he also did it for himself, because as long as he didn't completly lose it, there's was always hope of recovery, that it would just pass by, like a threatening storm simply easing by. But, alas, she had found these emotions, discovered them inside him tonight. And, like a broken record, he was as far from the right place of mind as one could get. There was no doubt in his mind, upon this realization, that she could've been lying the whole time. Maybe she had made his own mistake with her last offering, confusing the rules with the drug-like beverage that was settling in her mind.
Maybe the whole reason for his- or their- mistake had been subconsious denial. "I never". They both had pleanty of things, he was sure, that they wished they'd never done or experience. And denying it like this, making it part of the game, gave hope for it seeming that less real. Another backfired plan. It'd never seemed more realer to Jack.
He remembered, somehow, that it was his turn. Only half-aware that he had even opened his mouth, Jack couldn't stop himself for saying the one thing he'd kept down inside him, buried within a brick wall of self-pity and, even sometimes, unacceptance. Because the day he admited it would be the day that he'd given up, the day his entire world had give up on him. He wasn't sure if this was that day; he wasn't sure much of anything. But that still didn't stop him. Opening his mouth, Jack let the reply fall out of his mouth like a ball of confession; he could practically see it collasping into the ground. Blue. Sparkling. That would be the hope in it, finally escaping him. But then eventually it would crash to the ground, fail him. Luckily, in regards to everything it stood for, that would be no real personal blow.
"I've never been loved," Jack whispered, the words swirling out of him in a whirl of confession. The blue ball dropped to the ground, and Jack stared at the sand, where he half-expected to see it laying there. Hell, he was already losing his mind on this island.
Kate stared at him, breath wavering and escaping her unevenly, as much in shock of his statement as he was of the peace that went with it. Yet he still didn't feel completly relieved. He was still expecting the worst to happen, the worst to come out of this. Because what he said was true. Besides never actually really hearing the words said to him, everyone who claimed to have loved him eventually left him, leaving him to clean up what would eventually feel like his own failure: Sarah, his dad. Anyone. Everyone. The sympathy, the pity, it could never match hearing those three words, and not necessarily from a romantic point of view.
Clearly Kate wasn't sure how to respond. That much was for certain. Not pushing her, Jack half-hoped the game was over. He half-hoped she'd walk off, that he'd fall asleep, that he'd realize all his life had been a dream...that what he said didn't have to be true. But part of him hoped the exact oposite. That she'd stay. Consider what he said. And not just so she'd say those words to him. But because she'd be the one person who would stay. All his life he'd have one or two good friends that he was terryfied of losing, and though he felt that same fear here, there was a struggling hope within him wanting to prove himself wrong. Wanting Kate to prove himself wrong.
Yeah, the drink was definetly wearing in now. Jack blinked, closing his eyes hard before reopening them to the game. Whatever Kate had decided, she too had seen that the game should probably wind down now. The party where he'd been taught the game had ended on no level close to this. That had been admiting to friends and friends of friends that you secretly despised a family member, wanted nothing more than to be away from there. This was telling his, deepest, darkest, most hated secret to a near-stranger. It was odd, it had felt like he'd been on the island for more than close to a week, but he still felt like he had a lot to learn about Kate, and vice versa. It wasn't the old, "I feel like I've known you forever" tale. No, it was, maybe I want to know you. I shouldn't, considering the fugitive thing, but I do. And when the rare mood of darkness, such as this one, sank in, taking over every sensible cell in his brain, he knew that was true for her too. It was risky buisness, but they couldn't help but to have an eye sat on the money.
"One more for the road?" Kate offered, traces of heavy sympathy mixing in with foul breath from the drink and the effects it would leave.
Jack nodded. After a confession like that, knowing that he may have to live with knowing she knew that deepest thought forever...he wanted something to help him clear his mind. And yet he hated himself for that.
"I've never been married."
The whispered response came in a way that Jack somehow knew she was definetly lying here. He still took the drink, finishing off the glass with a final downing. Across from him, Kate took the drink as well. He didn't mention that she, like him, wasn't playing by the rules. Again, the denial thing. He let her take the drink, both of them shifting their way into silence. Behind him, Jack heard a twig snapped and jerked his head around. Assuming it was the dog, he was surprised with fear when Vincent was no where insight. Even more frightening was, once again, the imagine of his father watching him, staring at him, iglaring/i at him. Ashamed of him.
Never did it register in his mind that this, especially, could be an effect of the alcohol. Not until later did he wonder if, in a condition like this, his father had a simular experience. Maybe with his own father. Jack knew little about his grandfather, but he had been a theory of his for his father's abuse of alcohol. Jumping to his feet without thought, Jack tore towards the jungle, determined to catch his father's image of this time. Of anything, to prove him wrong. To prove that he himself wouldn't turn into his father, to beg him to look deeper into his son, to see the truth. To love him.
Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews!
Coming up next, on "On An Island":
A lot of "White Rabbit" stuff happens.
Thanks again!
Until next time...
October Sky
