100 degrees read the thermometer. Meg sighed unhappily. What a day for Jack to start running a fever. Meg turned and found herself eye to eye with him. Damn those intense Shephard eyes. Meg thanked god that they were hazel not blue. It was the only restraint keeping her from reaching out to smooth away the worry lines. She wondered what color her grandson's eyes were. Was he being care for at this moment? The thought worried her and the emotion must have showed. Metal cuffs rattled as Jack leaned forward. "Why are you doing this?" Jack asked in a low whisper.
It was the first time he had actually addressed her personally. She had dreamed about meeting him, about what she would say to introduce herself to Christian's son. In her imagination he had taken to her immediately, the supportive mother he had never had growing up. Her chest hurt knowing this first moment of intimacy was staged. The guards hadn't mistakenly wandered out of earshot. She was alone with him by Henry Gale's design and she could practically feel the cold gaze of a hidden camera. She had to force her scripted lines out from around the lump in her throat. "Not all of us have a choice in this," she answered him.
"You're a doctor. You are supposed to help people. You took an oath…"
Meg nodded. She dreaded the inevitable progression of this conversation. The point where he would ask for her help, because gaining his trust and giving him a false opportunity to escape was exactly what Henry wanted her to do. She could see that glimmer of hope in his eyes. Meg fumbled the line of needles on her tray. She had to change the direction of the conversation. She glanced around, her desperation catching on the inked skin of his shoulder. "Um, you don't seem so typical doctor yourself," she rushed indicating his tattoo. Jack fell silent, he didn't look. He didn't need to see. Meg expectantly waited a spell before realizing her question had killed the conversation. It wasn't the kind of reaction she had expected. Wasn't a tattoo all about inviting attention?
Meg frowned, Henry was going to be furious. She needed to get back on script. With an honest sigh of defeat Meg tried to start up the conversation again. "You took that oath too, Jack." She Sterilized the inner skin of his arm and frowned at all the needle marks that had collected since he had been with them. "You should be more worried about the people you left out there on the beach than Kate or Sawyer." Meg found a vein and injected a hormone booster. "Think of all the medical emergencies they face every moment they are out there? Think of Boone, Shannon and Liz. How many more of them could be dead or dying because you are here waiting for a chance to help Sawyer and Kate escape?" Meg looked back into Jack's eyes and hated Henry for the guilt she was causing Jack. "This place has a very extensive medical facility, and contrary to your suspicions we haven't had any patients die here. They die out there, on the island where they have no hope of getting medical attention. So if you want to appeal to my morals, to my oath as a doctor, think carefully about you are going to ask."
Kate woke slowly. She could hear Sawyer humming to himself, which meant he was close and she was probably back in the holding room. Kate rolled onto her side. "Well, well," Sawyer greeted with a smile, "How would Miss Starr like some breakfast in bed?" He sauntered over and put a bowl and spoon on the floor beside her. "Must be your lucky day freckles, it's still warm." He cocked his brow at her. Kate struggled up and poked at the contents of the bowl. It was some sort of cooked grain she didn't recognize. "Where's Jack?" She asked. Sawyer shrugged and looked away. "He'll show, maybe even get here before his bowl o goodies gets too cold to eat."
Kate nodded and took a bite. She glanced back at Sawyer. In a whisper she asked, "So, we on today?" Sawyer gave her an intimate smile and leaned closer, "Eager? You sound pretty sure of yourself." Kate smiled and took another bit of the bland food. Sawyer smiled back at her.
Looks like little miss sticky fingers had been a success, he thought to himself. He watched her in admiration. It turned him on wondering where on her body she might be hiding the key. He couldn't wait to press his luck by looking for it. His heated thoughts drew him back to his discussion with Jack before they had left with Michael. And for the millionth time he wondered if Kate really had said that she loved him.
The overhead lights flickered. Kate glanced up and frowned. Show time Sawyer mumbled. He gave Kate a mischievous side look. "Think it's time you showed me what you're hiding, Mrs. Scarlet," Sawyer purred. Kate gave him a sarcastic glare, "Right, keep dreaming." Sawyer shook his head and slowly stalked her, "Nope, it's definitely time." "Now?" Kate asked suddenly looking uncertain. "C'mon freckles, you can put on a better show than that," Sawyer coaxed.
Jack was counting floor tiles. Large institutional tiles in white flecked with golds and browns. Each tile connected seamlessly to the next marked by a thin dark line. His escort dragged him down the hallway steering him left or right with a shove. He wasn't normally so compulsive. But counting the tiles was helping him keep alert. He had woken up feeling foggy and lethargic. Probably running a fever he diagnosed.
He was at 45 when a hand on his arm pulled him to a halt. Jack blinked and realized Henry Gale had joined the group at some point. Henry stared directly at Jack ignoring their entourage. He waited expectantly for Jack's attention. Slowly, Jack's hooded gaze met Henry's. The edge of Henry's mouth curved up in anticipation. Henry swung open the only door in this section of the hallway. The dark room swallowed the white of the hallway. Jack resisted the shove from behind.
"C'mon Jack, we know why you resist. You think Kate needs you to be strong. But it's time to stop seeing what we want and start seeing what is true." Jack stared at the darkness. He was a firm believer in evidential facts. Believe something when there was proof of evidence. That was how you kept control even when your only source of information was untrustworthy like Henry Gale. But something about the darkness… something about Henry's intense scrutiny made Jack hesitate. Truth didn't always make things feel better and Jack had a feeling that Henry was counting on just that.
Jack stumbled into a heavy office chair cloaked by the darkness. The room was like walking into a dark theater. Jack leaned against the chair back waiting for his eyes to adjust. The silence hummed from a large bank of computer equipment. There were a few monitors casting a blue glow on a technician's face. But it was the wide paneling across the left wall that held Jack's attention. It was the room the others held them captive in. Jack had assumed the mirrored walls concealed some sort of surveillance, but what he saw was Kate and Sawyer life size, behind glass. Like some sort of bizzare cross between an aquarium and a… ah… It suddenly occurred to him what Kate and Sawyer were doing. Both had tossed their shirts aside, Sawyer's fingers crept beneath the light pink clasp on the back of Kate's bra. Jack quickly looked away. His skin flushed hot, the pounding of his pulse was deafening.
Flashback
Nigel glanced nervously down both directions of the track running between flimsy shanty walls. There were no lights this far off the main roads. He stumbled, but Jack caught him before he took a dive in to the squelching muck at their feet. "Are you lost?" Jack asked with a sigh.
Nigel shook his head, "Nah, just had a few too many drinks at the bar's all. Never would have guessed the Safari served such stiff drinks." Jack shook his head and waited for Nigel to choose a direction.
Why had he let Nigel talk him into this? He should be in his hotel room pretending to sleep, not wading through the slums looking for one of Nigel's women. Nigel hadn't been very specific about what medical attention she needed. More likely the girl was hooked on something Nigel had given her, which really made Nigel the problem more than the symptoms she was experiencing. Jack rolled his shoulders trying to work some of the stiffness out of his back. Unfortunately, a girl in need of medical attention ranked upwards on a physician's list of reasons to put off sleep. And despite Jack's best intentions, he had jumped at the opportunity to avoid the nightmares for a night. There was something very definitely wrong with him that he preferred the idea of stumbling around in the dark, while mud that stank of raw sewage seeped in through his boot lacings, following a drunk through a maze of corrugated steel and thatch. Nigel finally moved to the right and Jack followed.
After having to back track a couple of dead ends, Jack could feel the chill of the mud as far up as his knees. He was convinced Nigel was lost and finding a way back to civilization before morning was about as unlikely as Nigel finding the girl. The night had finally had a cooling effect on the warm tropical air. Jack guessed it had to be close to three in the morning. Nigel had long ago lost enthusiasm for the hunt. Jack guessed he was beginning to feel the effects of a hangover when he stopped them in front of a small opening curtained in solid black. Jack only noticed the color because it was unusual to see in a tropical culture like Thailand.
Nigel groaned, "Finally!" They felt their way through a dark hallway into a dimly lit room. A group of men sat around a table playing an oddly silent game of Majong. At the sight of Nigel and Jack one of them stood and disappeared into a dark doorway.
Jack shifted uncomfortably. The men seated at the table ignored their game to stare with hostile eyes at Jack and Nigel. The room was too dark to make out much detail. The men at the table wore dark clothing that blended into the shadow lines of the table and chairs. Jack found himself squinting, trying to make out any dark shape that might hint at a gun. Nigel shifted away from Jack and scratched half-heartedly at the track marks on the inside of his elbow. "Easy now," Nigel muttered to himself. Three Tai men came down the hallway behind Jack and Nigel. One of them stood out in a navy european suit and tie. Jack stepped closer to Nigel. "What is this?" He asked. Nigel shrugged.
Jack fought to keep his breathing normal. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He felt light and skitish as adrenaline hit his system. Jack turned but the three men that had just arrived were blocking the way they had come in. Something was very wrong. The sound of others arriving made him turn back to the room.
A procession of men, led by a richly dressed elder entered the room. An ornately carved chair was produced from the shadows for the man to hold court from. Jack stepped back against the rusty rippled metal of a wall. His eyes darted around the room frantic for a way to slip out. Jack watched Nigel approach and the elder flick his wrist in signal. A brief case was produced that Nigel swung onto the Majong table to open. The room was now nearly full to capacity. Jack wasn't having any difficulty making out the automatic weapons. Jack could feel himself begin to shake. He wanted nothing more than to wake up drenched in sweat, tangled in bed sheets to the soft hum of the air conditioner in his small hotel room.
Jack inched to his right catching a glimpse of small drug bags as Nigel snapped the brief case closed. Nigel nodded to the man seated and strode back towards the doorway they had entered through. Jack moved to follow. He could lay into Nigel about putting him in this situation later. Rail at him for even getting him involved with drugs. But all of that could come later, right now he just wanted out. It was a cowardly act, Jack knew that if he were still himself he would confront Nigel immediately, despite the situation. He was too afraid.
One of the Tai men stepped in behind Nigel to level a gun at Jack. Jack stopped dead. "Nigel?" Nigel stopped, his hand resting on the black curtain. He refused to turn and look. "Sorry Jack," he whispered before slipping past the curtain.
There was a scuffle at the far side of the room. Twisting and kicking a man was dragged forward to a chair at the table. He squirmed desperately disregarding the armed men posted around the room. Jack watched as it took three men to bind him to the chair. The man in the suit stepped beside Jack. "Doctor," He said in clipped english, holding his hand forward indicating Jack should step forward.
Jack blinked. He felt flush with panic. It was getting increasingly hard to catch his breath. The man waited patiently. The whole room watched. Jack swallowed and forced himself forward. The man in the suit matched him, staying close by his side as they approached the table. The elder raised his hand and Jack faltered to a halt. The elder stood and bent his head slightly to Jack. Jack turned at a light touch on his sleeve. The man in the suit bowed slowly, both showing Jack what to do while matching his movements. The elder began to speak and the man beside Jack interpreted.
"You are better not to know names. Instead, know that this is one of the great family. The ancestors are much admired. This family owes you a debt of life. It is not the nature of the great grand fathers to owe debts."
The interpreter stepped away and two armed men stepped forward to shove Jack into the seat across from the bound man. The man across from him yelled something unintelligible and spit on the table between them. Jack wasn't fluent in these men's language but the man's yells raised goose bumps up the back of his neck. His vowel sounds slurred and his voice lacked distinct consonants. With a chill the thought occurred to Jack that he was missing his tongue.
The interpreter's voice continued, "The ancestor's say it is bad luck for a soul to be taken from the world of the dead, yet one cannot alter fate either. This question has caused much anguish. To sooth the ancestors we must pay our debt to the world of the dead."
At this a pistol was placed on the table in front of Jack.
"The great grandfather offers this life in exchange for yours to pay this debt."
Jack jumped to his feet, "What!" The automatic rifles in the room snapped towards him.
"You owe the dead a soul. That balance must be restored. But in gratitude for saving a favored son, we offer this life to be sent in your place."
Jack turned to the interpreter, "You want to kill this man?"
The interpreter shook his head, "For the balance of all things, you must make the choice." Jack was shoved back into the chair. He stared at the dull black gun.
