THE BIGGEST LIE
(part seven: wanted everything to stop that bad)
by:AliLamba
rated: This one's still M…though really, could have gotten this far avoiding them?
thanks: Tiffie, again...you make the sun shine :D
notes: Wow, okay, this fic might be getting away from me. I thought that I would be half-way through by this chapter, and, well, I probably am, but I should really stop writing all these misc. bits that I want to throw in later, or explore all these other off-shoots that I could've also seen happening. But you know what? I really only started writing this because I wanted something Jate that I really enjoyed, thoroughly enjoyed, and this has been that for me. It's a way for me to read that ripped off story and not feel too dirty about it, because I've adapted the ideas that I liked. Anyway. These intro-things are getting too long.

p.s. Hanna! You don't have an email listed, so this is how I'm going to reach you. "Extramarital" means literally 'outside of marriage' so strangely, the title of mistress is correct. It is weird, how the word is so popularly used only for an 'other woman' though :)

p.p.s. Bah, you guys, I technically get until Friday :) But Rice, dang you, you'll get me to post it tonight. That, and I'm just so freakin' hung up on the spoilers for next week. Go and read the other fic I posted, though! It's strip poker. How can you go wrong, for serious.

Clean version here: alilamba-writes (dot) livejournal (dot) com (forward slash) 5637 (dot) htmlf


Kate had idly wondered if they would be taking a private jet to Senegal, but she was somewhat pleased to learn that they would be flying as commercially as anyone else. Well, that was after the small private jet into London, yes, but after there, amenities were only first-class.

Not that Kate had ever experienced such luxury on a plane before.

While she had settled in to one of the leather armchairs for the first leg a bit awkwardly, not bothering to hide the inspecting sweeps her gaze made around the main cabin, Jack couldn't have been more at ease: he took the seat across from her, buckled his seat belt, and pulled out his laptop almost immediately. A quiet steward made herself known from behind Kate's shoulder (Cindy, her nametag read), and Kate ordered a mineral water when the woman pressed her for an order. She felt anxious enough in the confined space with Jack to want to add vodka, but it was still, of course, barely eight thirty in the morning.

Kate fiddled with the controls on the armrest for a moment, putting on headphones and skipping the channels. They were mostly modern instrumental compositions, she found, but one button on the control panel accidentally yielded a video screen, and with a shock of amusement, Kate noticed a few of the games she had been playing with Claire a few days before. Trying to please…?

Kate looked up furtively, meaning to only glance in Jack's direction, but she found him staring at her with an laughing sort of smile. It made her feel suddenly defensive.

"What?"

Jack shook his head, still grinning. But he didn't look away, and Kate found herself suddenly shifting uncomfortably.

"Jack, please don't tell me you want to join the mile high club."

His eyebrows quirked in amusement, and it was a moment before he spoke. "Do you?"

"No," she emphasized with a glare.

Jack's grin turned a bit devilish, but he merely contented himself to a closed smile before disappearing behind his laptop again.

Cindy came back a few minutes after take-off with an assortment of pastries, and Kate chose a bagel with a pack of cream cheese. She took the time to separate the two halves delicately, spreading the thick condiment and eating her breakfast slowly, not thinking of anything in particular. The boredom was slowly sucking at her, though, and after dusting the last of the crumbs off her lap, and fiddling with the entertainment system once more, she couldn't really keep herself from rapping her nails rhythmically along the leather armrest.

Jack looked up at her, and when she noticed him looking, her grin turned sheepish.

"So…" she started, fishing for some sort of amusement, "Um, why Senegal?"

Closing his laptop and putting it aside, Jack adjusted himself in his seat so he could look at her fully.

"It's a Doctors Without Borders thing, to be honest."

Kate's expression turned skeptical. "Really," she drawled.

"So you've heard of it?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd be so…so…" she sighed, looking out the window, "philanthropic, I guess. You don't strike me as the selfless type."

There was a heavy pause that made Kate turn back towards Jack. She might have expected to irritate him, but his look was bordering on lascivious. "I didn't know you were so displeased," he murmured, his innuendo obvious.

Kate had to swallow, to wet her drying throat. "No," she cleared her throat, turning away again, trying to fight the warmth that threatened her cheeks, "No, that's not what I meant."

But she still heard the unbuckling of his seat belt, and it made her nearly jump and stare at him. Jack didn't pause as he leaned quickly over her seat, anchoring himself with arms on either side of her slender waist.

"No?" he breathed, the puff of air hot and close enough to feel. Her gaze unconsciously darted towards his lips, as she wet her own. She had to gulp again, hard, though the brusqueness of the action allowed her the momentum to turn her head away.

"I think that should be obvious," she whispered, her voice strained.

Jack lingered over her, waited to feel the anticipation radiate from her, her wet swallow, and then applied a chaste kiss to her cheek and sat back down.

She was expecting him to look superior, but he merely looked…blank.

"We'll be there for about four days," he offered. "It's really just a check-up visit for me, so, two cities and then we'll go home."

The normal breathing pattern was coming back to her, and Kate was unconsciously thankful that he hadn't tried to go further.

"You were there before?"

Jack pulled a tray-table across his lap and sat his computer upon it. While he waited for whatever it was he was working on to load, he glanced at her.

"For about four months, yes."

Kate absorbed this information slowly, and it irritated her to do so. She didn't like thinking of Jack as a humanitarian, but she was glad to realize that this new data didn't affect her distaste for him and his family. Mostly because she could imagine the P.R. person who put him up to it.

The stewardess approached again with an assortment of glossy magazines. They ranged in subject from fiscal to home decoration, yoga to extreme biking, and Kate just accepted the basket.

It turned out the second leg of their flight had been kept waiting for them, though they were off the ground again within minutes. The first-class cabin was mostly empty, save for an older looking couple and a few business types. It was a nine hour flight, and it looked like Jack intended to work through it, so Kate eventually took to chatting up the older couple. She learned that Rose and Bernard were going on safari, and that despite what Rose might protest, Bernard was anxious to shoot something. They all made each other laugh, and Kate found herself thoroughly enjoying herself in their warm and open company.

"So," Rose quieted at one point, after casting a chaste glance towards Jack. "You're here with your…"

Kate blanked for a moment, before turning half in her seat and recognizing Jack's sleeping face. When had he…? She bit her lip, feeling a thread of unknown guilt, but turned away from him with a fixed, dismissive expression on her face.

"Oh, that's Jack. He's, um…" she paused, trying to find the right word when there was none. "Um, he's just a friend, you could say."

The explanation was almost too ambiguous, but neither Rose nor Bernard questioned her. Well, Rose's glance was a bit probing, yes, as if she understood completely, but Bernard merely nodded, smiling obliviously, before launching into another description of some of their planned activities for the next two weeks. They wouldn't be crossing paths again, it turned out, but it was still pleasant to have a half-way normal and innocuous conversation, for once.

An hour passed, and then Bernard started to fiddle with a portable DVD player, wanting to show off the new technology to his wife. With an amused but indulgent shared expression, Rose turned to help Bernard find the on/off switch, and Kate turned back in her seat. She looked at Jack. He was still sleeping; eyes closed and mouth parted slightly. It was strange to see him so vulnerable, and Kate didn't like it. Closing her eyes to block him out, it wasn't until she was jostled that she realized she had fallen asleep.

Her head had fallen against Jack's shoulder, and when she blinked her eyes open, she saw him smiling at her—that sort of warm, disarming smile she hadn't seen since that first day, at the polo match.

Kate bristled, nearly jumping off his shoulder as she worked to readjust her clothing.

"What?" she questioned, her voice perhaps a tad harsher than she had intended.

If a shadow passed across his face, it didn't stay for long. But there was a definite adjustment in tone, as Jack coughed into his hand, and then picked up a plate she hadn't noticed was there before.

"Dinner," he offered, reaching over her to retract her tray table, and dropping the meal on it with a napkin and set of crude but metallic silverware.

Kate stared hard at the plate, the filet of salmon in some sort of butter sauce, a plum relish for the radish and endive salad, and the warm, sesame dinner roll. It looked good, and Kate found herself suddenly hungry. She and Jack ate in silence, both casually ignoring the in-flight movie.

The plane started its descent less than an hour afterwards, and with a thick stab of foreboding, Kate looked out the window, and saw dark, ominous rainclouds crowding the late-afternoon sky. The turbulence on the way down was rough, though the landing smooth, and while the plane taxied to the gate, Kate found her gaze locked on the window. The rain that had looked bad enough from the air was now proving to look almost painful, heavy sheets dousing the runway in a clear inch of water.

She didn't say anything to Jack as they unloaded the overhead compartments, and she bade a quick good bye and good luck to Rose and Bernard. A driver was waiting for them beyond customs, and he led Jack and Kate and the people carrying their luggage to a heavy-looking four by four. There was maybe a foot gap between the cover of the airport awning and the haven of the car's interior, but Kate still found herself drenched with rain after jumping through it. Jack slipped in after her, and ran hands through his short hair to shake off the droplets.

"Why the hell is it so bad out there?" she couldn't help but ask, praying that it would abate soon though it looked so much like it wouldn't. Jack gave her a quick look over.

"It's uh," he paused, laughing a little, "It's monsoon season, Kate."

Kate blanched, and her voice expressed her incredulousness. "You took me…to Africa…during monsoon season."

Jack really did laugh now, though Kate was having a hard time finding the humor in it.

"I didn't pack for monsoon season!"

This seemed to make Jack only chuckle harder, and after a quick moment, she was grinning as well. Of course, she could have realized, what with the other side of the equator. But she honestly was unprepared—all her clothing had been appropriate for warm, breezy weather, not miserably cold, wet monsoons.

The plane had landed in Dakar, and the car drove them into it, through the stop-and-go of the inner city to the dead center. Kate stared outside the window, at the rain splattering everything, scattering the few people who had dared to travel through it. She felt Jack's presence come up behind her, his breath on her neck as he followed her stare.

Kate felt her eyelids flutter, as the street scene melted into abstraction. Jack's hand touched her thigh—barely graced the skin above her knee, though warm liquid bled instantly throughout her core. He heard her breath hitch, must've, because his head dipped lower, until his chin was touching her skin, the sharp stubble scratching along the sensitive surface. Out of the corner of her eye, Kate could see Jack's gaze still focused on the window.

But Jack's hand only slid higher over her thigh, until he came to the hem of her skirt and teased it up, over his fingers. She could feel every callous, leaving hot streaks against her inner thighs, up, farther, until she was unconsciously opening her knees to grant him better access. When… her mind asked, when had she become so…so… His fingers found her panties, and thought flew from her mind with a low, potent moan. If it weren't for the crash of thunder, the furious swipes of the window wipers, and the soft hums of whatever music the driver was playing…she would have forfeited the pleasure, but instead… Jack's fingers stroked her, intimately, and she could feel his breath speeding, becoming audible as he tried to control it through his nose.

And she knew, it had been a long flight for him.

It was nighttime, or near to it, when they pulled up to the hotel. Kate's skin was humming, a low, throbbing sort of desire deep within her pelvis. She thought Jack could feel it too, if there was anything to be gleaned from the tightness of his jaw, the way his steps were hurried as they walked through the lobby. Jack's hand lingered at the small of her back as he drove her towards the front desk, the maintained touch dizzying her senses to the extent that she barely recognized how posh her surroundings were.

"Dr. Shephard!" a clipped voice called from across the room, and both Jack and Kate slowed to a stop. From the limited amount of body contact, she could feel him stiffen. A tall stranger was bounding towards them, his skin the color of pure black coffee.

Jack's hand slid around her waist and lingered at the curve of her hip as the man came within hearing range, the subtlest movements of his fingers massaging the fabric of her blouse.

After giving a quick, cold look to Kate, the stranger engaged Jack immediately in conversation, and it became quickly apparent that they knew each other. Their conversation was medical, and Kate couldn't really help but to drift off, somewhat… The heat was still pulsing from the spot beneath Jack's fingers, and recognizing its affect straightened her spine.

My God, she thought to herself, Have I really become so vulgar?

"Actually, Dr. Shephard," the man started, with another covert glance to Kate that she ignored. "Actually, your patients…have been waiting…"

"I was under the impression they were stable."

The stranger's brow twitched, another tiny flick of his eyes. "Still, Dr. Shephard. We have been waiting for you for some time."

The fingers teasing Kate's side stiffened, the length of each tightening against her flesh. Kate felt her core give an aching throb, and her breath was shaky on the exhale.

"Very well. Let me see to my room, first."

"Dr. Shephard, if it's not too much trouble, I would like to impose upon you now."

Now, Jack turned to Kate. There was a thickness to his jaw that betrayed his displeasure, and Kate could merely return his stare. Her breath was starting to catch in her nostrils, and her stomach flipped.

But Jack merely nodded, and not to her.


Barely pausing on the threshold to examine the exorbitant surroundings, Kate propelled herself to a door and threw it open.

Closet.

She went to the next. Safe. Then kitchen. Then anteroom. The phone, she recognized, so she picked it up, furious.

"Front desk, madam."

"Where the hell is the bathroom?"

"Do you need assistance, madam?"

"What?" Kate paused, then shook her head. "No! No, I just don't know where it is."

"A moment please, madam."

Kate breathed deep; tried to get the air to her brain. There was a ring of the doorbell. Kate looked towards the distraction, then pulled the phone away from her face, and dropped it on its cradle.

"This is ridiculous," she couldn't help muttering, as the slight woman from the hallway took her through doorways, until one opened to sparkling white tiles, and a deep, big tub. Kate thought she smelled bad at the sight of it.

"Would the madam enjoy a bath?"

Suddenly bashful, Kate bit her lip. She spared a pleading glance toward the steward.

"Could you?"


Kate doused herself in the warm, fragrant soapy water twenty minutes later. The stale sweat that came with sleeping in an airplane washed off her, as did the steady pulse of desire in her veins.

She was…she was getting too dependent on him—that much was clear. Kate had honestly wanted him in those moments in the car and in the lobby, and it would be a lie to claim that she hadn't spent time replaying their sexual encounters in her head. It was dangerous, this relation, to actually enjoy being so intimate with him. Not mentally, she admonished quickly, but…but the physical pleasure of it all. The pure, undiluted satisfaction that Jack seemed to exhort from her every—single—time…well, it brought more than one shade of pink to her cheeks just to dwell on it.


The bath water cooled eventually, but by then, Kate had worked herself into a more furious frustration than before. The implication was different, of course—where before it was merely sexual, now it was its opposite, the pure spite at Jack and his familial rearing for making her feel so manipulated. Well, she reasoned to herself, they hadn't been prepared to deal with me. If she was honest with herself, she knew exactly how the evening could go. Jack could walk in at whatever hour pleased him, and with barely a touch, could coerce her into bed.

Not tonight, she vowed. Her plan was simple: the classic passive aggressive girlfriend tactic of being sleep before the significant other came home. Simple, yet effective. Well…she hoped. Jack wasn't typically in the practice of letting something as trivial as slumber get in the way of something he wanted…that much had been made almost painfully clear. A healthy flush started to make its way down her body, making Kate notice that she'd stopped walking about the bedroom.

Rolling it off her shoulders, Kate rifled through her luggage to find the most offensive sleepwear she could find, but was displeased to find nothing that would cover herself so completely. Reluctantly, she unzipped Jack's pack, pulling out a big pair of sweatpants and a thick, zippered sweatshirt. Everything was a bit too big on her, yes, but she held them on dutifully, slipping under each of the covers and turning every light off. She sweated a little (with the blankets, there were a lot of layers, even in monsoon season), but distracted herself by concocting vicious, terrible plans of how she could turn this situation against him. They became more and more ridiculous as the hours stretched on…surely Jack would be home…soon…

It shouldn't have startled her so much, to heard the heavy click of an unlocked door, the tiny creak as it swung open. Jack's footfalls against the floor were quiet, even with the muffling carpet beneath them.

Kate kept her eyes screwed shut, as she tried to control her breathing. For some reason, breathing always becomes harder when you're actually thinking about it, and Kate's experience was no exception. Her heart started to hammer against her throat, as she unconsciously strained her ears for his slightest movements. Jack…Jack was coming towards her. Through the dark, the definite sounds of his movements were heading in her direction. Kate held her breath for fear that it would betray her, as she heard fabric slip against itself as Jack crouched by the nightstand. For what seemed like a long time, he sat there, the heat of his gaze warming her cheeks, her pulse, and her breath. She felt like screaming.

But neither of them said anything. Instead, Jack moved away, louder now as he shed his clothes about the room. There was something that felt almost like relief when the mattress yielded to his weight, the sheets tightened against her chest as Jack tugged them towards him. There was a stiffness to his actions, that much was clear. Whether it was his slow exhale, or the way he fidgeted, trying to get comfortable… It was enough, and Kate celebrated a victory in her mind.

Take that, she wanted to taunt. I don't need you at all!

Kate was expecting to find sleep easily on the heels of such a win, but instead…each one of Jack's movement drew her attention, as did the varying tempo of his breathing. Remorse managed to eke itself into her conscience, and sadly…she found she wasn't surprised to find it there. Their backs to each other, Kate opened her eyes in the darkness, and had to bite her lip when the remorse shifted into a strange sort of disappointment. What, she berated her emotions quickly, trying to claim them before they could be fully explored. The night stretched on, and with each passing hour, Kate felt the impulse to turn towards him mounting. By the time the darkness had faded to grey, the shades of morning peeking their way past the heavy curtains, Kate was forcibly fighting them.

But…the sense of sunlight somehow grounded her; something in the sense that the night was over, and that she had survived, allowed her heart to slow down, and almost settle. Like a consolation prize for having abstained, sleep somehow claimed her for what felt like all of fifteen minutes.

And then Jack was rocking her shoulder brusquely to wake her up. When she jerked into consciousness, he withdrew just as quickly.

"Get up, we're late."

Kate groaned unintentionally, deep in her throat, as she rubbed at her tired eyes.

"What time is it?" she murmured.

Jack was already in the bathroom, and she heard the shot of water as he turned on the shower. Kate sighed. Fine. Rolling towards his side of the bed, she saw the clock beam its bright blue numbers: 6:18.

Kate didn't have time to bemoan her sleepless night, as a discrete and pleasant ring came through the bedroom door. Aching joints held her weight as she maneuvered into the anteroom, where a steward was already making his way inside with a fresh tray of breakfast, and…

"Coffee," Kate said involuntarily, as she smelled it.


It turned out that Jack hadn't just woken her out of spite. Someone came to pick them up at 6:45, so they could make the long, bumpy drive into the heart of Senegal. If she hadn't been so tired and cranky, Kate would have enjoyed watching the scenery and periods of heavy rain outside the windows of the Jeep, but instead, her mind was mostly focused on the man sitting beside her. Jack was radiating frustration, his voice coming out in clipped, one-word statements. Kate was very carefully telling herself she didn't care.

They weren't alone, however. The man they were traveling with was the same from the lobby before, and he took up most of the conversation, describing to Jack in more medical terms what had happened to his patients while he was away.

When they pulled into a rainy Linguère some time before nine a.m., Kate's mood seemed to match Jack's. Every time she had thought the stranger's voice would lull her into drowsiness, a rock, or a tree, or a gazelle would jump into their path, forcing their car to swerve. More than once, she had slammed into Jack, and her sorely exhausted muscles were starting to protest. The stranger abandoned them quickly after they made it under a thatched sort of awning, leaving Jack and Kate alone.

"Is there something you want to talk about, Kate?" he yelled over the rain. She riled at the sudden accusation in his voice.

"What, about how I have no free will? Yeah, let's talk about that, Jack. Let's talk about that."

The glare she gave him invited no response, though she questioned whether he would have challenged her anyway. He merely glowered, grabbing his backpack off the ground and heading inside the hovel they were standing in front of. Scowling as well, Kate followed him in.

It was a one-room sort of building, walls unpainted and windowless. A few dozen beds were set up, with people of varying states of medical care propped within them. Kate felt most of the anger she harbored dissipate almost immediately, as she watched Jack maneuver between the beds, checking on his patients. It was a side of him she hadn't been exposed to yet, and it was…well, it was interesting to see him suddenly so dedicated. He took temperatures and pulses himself, checking eyes for reaction to light, making notes where appropriate. Kate hadn't realized her ears had been filled with a dull, muting hum until she saw Jack look directly at her, though the glance was brief.

"What?" Kate muttered, unintelligently. Jack shook his head.

"Nothing." He turned back to the person he was examining, who was eagerly trying to convey something to him in thick, garbled speak. "Where does it hurt?" Jack was saying, loudly, trying to draw out the words. When the response was more incomprehensible words, Jack sighed, his gaze traveling again towards the door. He pointed to his own chest. "Here?" he asked, "Does it hurt here?"

A grin poked itself through Kate's mouth. Ah. He was looking for a translator. Kate dropped her own backpack against one of the tables, and sat at the chair behind it. She could help him, of course, maybe do something useful, but Kate preferred being obstinate when it came to Jack.

"I, I can't help you." Jack was enunciating, "We have to wait. For the, for the trans-lay-tore. N-no…no parlay, Francay."

Kate almost snorted into the book she had picked up and wasn't reading. A heavy sigh came from Jack's direction.

"You know, Kate, that's really not helping."

Kate glanced at him over the top of her book, and then shrugged nonchalantly. Jack turned back to his patient, pointing to the watch on his wrist. "We'll have to wait, until I can understand…yes?"


Twenty minutes later, the 'lost in translation' aspect was starting to get to her. Jack too. Well, if anything could be gathered by the way Jack was checking the doorway every few moments, then pacing back between his twenty-odd patients, each of which seemed to have something to tell him that could only be conveyed through complex French colloquialisms. Kate's foot was starting to bounce against the dirt floor, frustration filling her pores.

"Non," Jack was saying, again, "I'm…I'm des-o-lay, yes? We have to w-wait."

"S'il vous plait, s'il vous plait…" a young woman was moaning, cradling her stomach. Jack had got that much, but he was having trouble with the exact pain, with exactly where it was coming from. The woman was trying to explain, what it was like…but Jack could only shake his head, trying to assuage her without knowing what he was assuaging. "S'il vous plait…"

Kate couldn't sit still any longer.

"She says it's like a snake!" she interrupted, Kate's hand flying to her temple. "It's like a snake, coiling…coiling through her intestines."

Jack had jerked his head in her direction when she stood, but now his expression dismayed his skepticism. "How do you know?"

Shooting him a demeaning glare, Kate started towards the woman.

"Combien de temps le fait blesser?" she asked when she was within hearing range. "Comme le serpent."

The young woman didn't seem to be phased, merely moaning again that it had been two days.

Kate nodded, and didn't turn towards Jack as she started to translate. "She says it's been two days."

"How…?" Jack was saying, and with a flick of her eyes Kate saw him shake off his bemused expression. "Uh, can…can you ask her what she ate?"

"Avez-vous mangé quelque chose étrange? Nouveau? Putréfié?"

The young woman shook her head, and Kate mimicked it. "No, she says no."


The translator showed up about an hour after Kate revealed herself, but by then, Jack's follow ups were mostly done. He arranged for a surgery the next day, dictated some changes in medication, but then, with an almost unnoticed glance to Kate, asked the translator about lunch.

The woman smiled, an uneven, unused expression that highlighted the wrinkles in her face.

"It should be served soon," she evaded, but Jack only nodded, a pointed look between Kate and the door signaling that they should leave.

"Thanks, Danielle."

They had barely made it outside, before Jack was invading her personal space.

"So you want to tell me why you speak French?"

Kate stiffened. "Why?" she repeated.

"Yes why. At this point, I'm not sure anything would surprise me. So what is it, some French prison? A diplomat of some sort? Oh no, let me guess: an artist. True love."

Her pale, green eyes narrowed in a glare. "I don't deserve that from you, Jack."

Jack scoffed, hands on his hips as he looked around for a way out. People were mingling throughout the small village, keeping out of the rain. A few trucks marked the main attraction, distributing supplies. "You know, Kate," he started, saying her name like she was being unreasonable, "There's no reason you have to be so hostile about all this."

Kate balked, her hands tightening into unconscious little fists. "There's no reason? Jack, you have me prisoner!" She expected that to sting him, but he just swung back towards her, contemptuous.

"You came to me, Kate!"

That hit her gut hard, and Kate's eyes obstinately shone as she glared at him. But Jack was making the few steps towards her, until she could hear his labored breathing, and feel the heat radiating from him cut through the humidity. "And remember, you made the terms. Whatever I want you to be."

Kate had to look away, as something hard and cold lodged in her throat. That wasn't fair. N…none of this was fair. "Why won't you let me go?" she whispered, and for a moment, she wasn't sure if Jack heard her. But the stiffness bled through the air between them, forcing Kate's attention. There was a glint to his eyes that she had never seen before, and it did worse than frighten her—it filled her mouth with infuriated bile. Jack's stare was hard and blank.

"Fine, then that's it, right? You're determined to hate me, and I'm determined to keep you here."

"You're disgusting."

There was a low, menacing silence.

"Oh, I'm disgusting. You're the one who likes it Kate, who likes to be chased, pinned down, and excuse the vulgarity—but ravished."

"I hate you!"

"I know. I know you really want to think that, Kate."

"I do. Let me go."

A sick sort of grin graced his mouth. She wasn't scared—there was no violence to him now—but it still shook her to the core, and the act of swallowing was painful.

"I could run." Her threat was glaringly empty, and Jack's laugh echoed the sentiment.

"Yeah, sure, Kate, you do that. You go run into the jungle right now."

She wanted, so desperately, to do so. To just run. The impulses forced themselves up her spine, accompanied quickly by angry tears. There she was, poor Kate, forced to stand still. By a man. By this man who she hated.

"Why do you—" she started, then turned away to fight her emotions. "Why am I still here?"

He didn't do anything right away, and for a moment, Kate didn't think he would say anything at all. But then slowly, Jack shrugged, with a carelessness that suggested there was merely something on his shoulder he wanted to dislodge.


They managed to avoid each other for the rest of the day. Not an easy feat, considering that the village was home to only a few hundred people. But it wasn't until much later that night, when the darkness was broken only by firelight, that Kate approached him.

The cold fury that had swept her veins took much longer to settle than she'd expected, but the crashing loneliness that came after was more than Kate could prepare for. It was more than anything she'd experienced in England—this was…this was no one speaking her native language, and curiously amazed stares that followed her everywhere. A few children conversed with her in French, but this mostly proved Kate's limitations with the language, rather than strengthen her understanding. When they offered to include her in a friendly game of soccer, she found herself turning them down gently before she had even recognized whether she actually wanted to play.

Would…would maintaining this wall between them really make their arrangement any easier? The quick answer was no, though it took so much longer for her to realize this, as any connotation felt like a defeat.

So you're down, Katie. She was standing out of the recesses of the firelight, staring at Jack's profile flicker with the flames. That doesn't mean…that he won't… Kate shook her head, turning towards the ground, as she tried to furiously work out her thoughts. The day had been a miserable tirade, and it still didn't make sense to her—why Jack still had her with him.

But then, staring at the dirt…it came to her.

In the beginning, she'd been so wrapped up in Desmond that she hadn't been able to see straight. And it must have been that! Her cold rebuttal, her abject refusal to fall prey to Jack's charms, instead almost cloying for his second cousin's affections… A cool sort of relief washed down her spine, accompanied by a soft 'oh' of understanding. So she was a kind of game to him, then! Her denying him had turned him on, instilled some sick infatuation to determine why she would snub his ego so offensively. The thought brought a stray smile to her lips, and her shoulders were settled when she looked back towards the fire, and Jack.

She almost…she almost felt sorry for him. He was so confused about her, that now he was stuck with a girl who still hated him. Before she knew what she was doing, Kate had started walking towards him.

"Hey," she said softly, when he turned sharply towards her. Kate was careful to keep warmth out of her tone, but tried to instill a sort of gentleness, as she took the seat besides him facing the flames. Jack didn't say anything, but stared at her hard while she sat. For a long time, silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the soft crackle of dry grass and wood aflame. Finally…

"I'm not a monster, Kate."

Air swept inside her lungs on a sharp inhale, but she didn't turn away from the fire. "I know," she admitted quietly. Jack nodded, but neither made a move towards the other, and they both turned back to watch the fire burn into embers.

Slowly, she became aware of it—they were sitting close enough, where she could actually sense his blood quickening. A slow tilt in her direction had her abdomen churning, every touch of breath drew her attention.

Jack stood eventually. A stiff hand was offered to her, and Kate didn't need to look towards him to know what sort of expression marked his gaze. Without taking it, Kate stood, making sure she was standing still before connecting their gazes. Hers was defiantly aware, thinly protecting the vulnerable desire she felt. Jack stepped towards her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed their bodies close enough together so she could feel how much he wanted her.

The memory became real in an instant, as Kate felt her blood heat under her skin, the warmth in her core feeling electric. She leaned into him as the muscles in her neck relaxed, the soft exhale coming out on a moan.

Kate wasn't sure how they made it back to their hut, but she gave in: once, powerfully, until sleep almost as blissful claimed them both.


end notes:Gah, I'm sorry about this. Most of you guys mentioned that you would prefer this fic to get smuttier, and I heard you…but this chapter was getting waytoo long as it was. Your prayers, I promise, will be answered in the next part. And uh, it's really freakin' good. And...multiple? XD Oh! Someone also mentioned that my sex scenes are a little hard to understand. If anyone has any suggestions on cleaning them up, I'll offer drabble smut (xxCrazyxChickxx, don't think I've forgotten yours. Trust me, it's coming!) And as always, if you have the time…reviews really do make my day :)