Thanks for the reviews. I finally figured out a way to solve the plot problems I was having, as you can see. Unfortunately it wasn't just the mythology that was giving me grief. Characterisation in this fic has also also extremely difficult since I'm essentially writing two versions of the characters as once... ;)


Chapter 7.

"This is crazy!" Kate insisted. "How can I have a child when I've never even given birth?"

"I don't know, Kate," Jack agreed. "I'm just as confused by this as you are."

"That's not the kind of thing you just forget," she continued. "You don't just forget your whole life."

"I'm not sure that's what this is," he confessed, perching back on the edge of the bed. "I keep having these… flashes… of us, yet I can remember everything that's happened to me in the last thirty-seven years and you weren't a part of it. The more I think about, the more certain I am that you and I never even met until yesterday. We're talking about two sets of memories here. They can't both be real."

"You think someone planted these memories?" she supplied, fixing him with an incredulous look. "Why would they do that?"

That was just it. Why would someone do that to them? And how? He sighed. "It's just a theory," he assured her. "I'm just trying to figure this out." As far-fetched as it seemed, it wasn't quite as far-fetched as past lives and reincarnation and some of the other more outrageous inferences circling his head.

"We don't have time to figure this out," she protested, a note of hysteria creeping into her tone as she added, "Our son is missing!"

Their son. The idea was, quite frankly, absurd when they'd known each other a grand total of less than twenty-four hours. "We don't even know that he is our son," he reminded her gently. "We don't even know that he exists."

"We don't know that he doesn't," she argued stubbornly. "What if he's still out there somewhere? He could be hurt or scared or…?" She trailed off, sinking down beside him, her eyes pleading. "We have to find him, Jack. We have to find out what happened to him."

They'd managed to remember each other and Aaron: surely if he was dead, that would have come back to them too?

"Hey," he murmured when she began to cry in earnest. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder while she sobbed into his shirt, from fear or from loss, he wasn't sure. "It's okay. We're gonna get through this," he told her, even though he had no idea how. Where would they even start looking for a three-year-old boy who may or may not be a part of some bizarre joint hallucination? Chances were that if was real, he wasn't even Australia.

In a gesture of tenderness that was surprising even to himself, he allowed his lips to brush her temple, breathing in the sweet scent of hotel shampoo. "Why don't you go clean yourself up while I order us up some breakfast?" he suggested when she finally stilled. "Then we can talk about what we're gonna do."

"Okay," she agreed with a weak smile, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. When she hesitated, he wondered if he should say something more, but before he could, she darted forward and placed an almost imperceptible kiss on his mouth, making his heart leap and skip a beat. "Thanks."

He watched her turn and disappear into the bathroom before going to pick up the phone. After spending a moment perusing the room service menu, he settled on a standard breakfast for both of them. That way she could choose what she wanted to eat.

She still hadn't emerged by the time he finished making the call; on a whim, he dragged the yellow pages towards him, flipping through until he reached the letter 'H'. He wasn't sure what prompted him to look it up, but underneath the heading 'Hypnotherapy' was a small ad that caught his attention. Deciding that it might be useful, he tore it out and folded it into a neat square, just as Kate rejoined him.

Her eyes were still a little red, but he could see her colour returning now that she'd had the chance to compose herself. He smiled at her and she smiled back, the illusion of intimacy gone, and just like that, they were strangers again.

In that instant, he began to regret having sex with her, even if it had been pretty amazing. He wasn't sure what had come over him. He cleared his throat. "Listen, I just wanna apologise for…" For what? Taking advantage of her?

A pink flush crept into her cheeks. "It's okay," she assured him. "Unless…" She tensed, her eyes darting to the fingers on his left hand. "You're not married, are you?"

The question caught him off guard. Surely that was something he should have thought to discuss with her before taking her to bed? But he hadn't. He'd just assumed that she already knew. "No," he admitted and she relaxed. "My wife left me."

"I'm sorry," she told him sincerely.

For the first time since it happened, he wasn't. He was trying to think of the best way to express this without overwhelming them both when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Since their confrontation that morning, he'd almost managed to forget that she was a fugitive, but he was reminded of it then when she turned and dashed back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"Room service."

He went to answer it, accepting the tray from the bellhop and placing it over on the little table by the window before going to get Kate. "It's safe now," he called, tapping lightly on the wood. "You can come out."

When she did, it was with a sheepish grin. "I'm still a little jumpy, I guess," she explained.

If he was honest with himself, so was he. After all, what he was doing – aiding and abetting her, hiding her from the law – was illegal. He pushed the thought out of his head. "I wasn't sure what you wanted so I got us some of everything," he told her, leading her over to where their breakfast was waiting. "There's coffee, juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, toast…"

"It looks great," she agreed sliding into the chair opposite his.

He stirred his coffee and took a sip, watching thoughtfully as she spread butter onto a slice of toast. Not for the first time, he had the sense that they'd done this before, many, many times. With a jolt of recognition, he realised that the only thing missing from this scene was Aaron. How many mornings had he spent cutting up his eggs before he could get to his own?

As if sensing his thoughts, she glanced up at the empty chair between them, and he was sure that she must feel it too.

"I know the last thing you probably wanna do right now is go back out in public," he began, determined to get to the bottom of it, "but would you come with me to see someone? I think they might be able to explain why this is happening."

"Who?" she asked cautiously.

He took the advert out of his pocket and slid it across the table to her, waiting in silence while she looked it over.

"Recovered Memory Therapy," she read out loud, frowning as she lifted her eyes back to his. "I thought you said these memories aren't real?"

The more time he spent with her, the more it started to feel like it was everything else that was unreal. "That's what I was hoping they'd be able to tell us."

"You really think they'll be able to help us?"

"I honestly don't know, Kate," he confessed. It was a long shot, but anything was worth a try. "But if it turns out that they can't, we'll just have to keep looking until we find someone who can."

"Okay," she said finally.

"Okay what?" he asked, wondering if she would make her more comfortable if they saw someone a little less unorthodox first, like a doctor or a shrink. He'd never put much stock in psychology, preferring conventional medicine to its more wishy washy approaches to healing, but then he'd never encountered a situation that science couldn't adequately explain before.

"Okay, I'll go with you," she agreed. She smiled. "Live together, die alone…"

The words stirred something inside him, although he couldn't place when or where he'd heard them before. "Who said that?" he asked her.

She blinked at him in surprise. "You did," she told him. "You're telling me you don't remember?"

It was good advice, though maybe a little dramatic for their current circumstances. "I wish I did," he admitted with a shrug.

She pushed the paper back towards him. "Do you think we need an appointment?"

While the news report had referred to him as her accomplice, he hadn't been mentioned by name. "I guess it couldn't hurt to call ahead," he agreed. At least then they would know if they were wasting their time.

He scooped up the receiver again and dialled the number.

A British woman answered on the first ring, almost as if she'd been expecting his call.

"What happened?" Kate asked when he hung up, having heard only his side of the conversation.

He was aware of how insane their story sounded; he was afraid of coming across as an escaped mental patient, or worse, a crank caller, so he'd decided not to give too much information over the phone. "She wants to see us right away," he told her.


It was still pouring an hour later when their cab pulled up to the curb of a dingy arcade a couple of blocks from the harbour.

"Are you sure this is it?" Kate asked, peering through the rain lashed window at the sign that hung above a door set into the space between an electronics store and a pawnshop.

The driver recited the address back to them.

"Looks like it," Jack agreed. He hadn't expected something so… depressing.

But the British woman was expecting them, so he paid the driver and they got out, the rain soaking through their clothes, chilling them to the bone.

When they reached the sidewalk, he noticed that Kate was shivering, even through her leather jacket; he peeled off his own wet coat and draped it around her shoulders and she rewarded him with a grateful smile. "I'll go first," he told her, pulling open the door and beginning the ascent up the narrow carpeted staircase.

There was a beaded door at the top; through it he could see an elderly woman with white hair and a stern expression that reminded him of the headmistress at his elementary school.

"Come in," she said, crossing her office to meet them, and Jack recognised her accent from their brief conversation on the phone. "You must be Jack."

She held her hand out to him and he shook it. "And this is my…" Friend? Was that what he and Kate were? Friends? Why then, had he allowed himself to sleep with her? But he hadn't known her long enough for them to be anything else. He gave up on searching for an appropriate label and finished simply, "This is Kate. I hope you don't mind that I brought her. She has some questions too."

Was it just him, or did the old woman look more pleased than surprised? "Not at all," she assured them with a warm smile. "The more the merrier." She gestured for them both to sit down before settling back into her own chair, her hands folded on the desk in front of her. "You can call me Eloise…"


Next chapter: Jack and Kate learn about the island, but how will they react? ;)