WINNIPEG, 1982

The slender woman leaned back against the steel bus sign, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders. Rubbing her hands together and blowing on them through the holes in her patched brown gloves, she shifted her legs in an effort to keep them moving.

"I did my bit," she muttered under her breath as she started down the road. "Now where are you?"

Flakes of snow were falling quickly through the air, and she could barely see down the street where the bus was supposed to be driving. There was so sign that it was even close to arriving, when it was already five minutes late.

Kate couldn't stop her teeth from chattering. She wrapped her hands even tighter around the scrap of paper in her hand – Seven Oaks General Hospital. North Wing. Room 73 – then pulled her arms back into her chest.

A steady stream of cold yellow light began to break through the white-filled sky and Kate looked up, her green eyes heavy with relief as the sound of the bus drew nearer. It pulled up to the stop and the doors slowly opened.

She leapt on quickly, followed by an older woman in a thick coat. Kate handed her tickets to the driver and took slow steps towards the back, her hands and cheeks burning with the sudden influx of heat.

The bus was relatively empty and so she chose a seat near the back, wrapping her arms around her and leaning against the window. It was a long ride from one end of the city to the other, especially in the snow, and she was tired. One cup of coffee in the morning wasn't enough to keep her awake.

She heard swearing next to her and she opened her eyes to see a well-muscled man with shaggy blonde hair stumbling into the pair of seats across from her. His eyes looked red, and he grinned at when he noticed her looking.

"Howdy," he greeted with a coy smile. Kate snorted and closed her eyes again, going back to her thoughts.

Today was her mother's second opinion, her consultation, the sealing of her fate, and Kate knew she had to be there to hold her mother's hand. But she couldn't muster up any sentiment about the whole thing, because Wayne would be there too.

He would be holding her mother's other hand, his eyes red and his breath reeking of alcohol. Hey Katie. A sneer. Eyebrows raised. Did you miss me? We're supposed to be a family, you know.

The words brought back memories of an even darker time. We're supposed to be a family, Katie. Don't look away from me. Don't turn away. Listen to me, goddamit. Katie, look the fuck at me.

She knew what he'd be like if they were alone together in the hospital. Katie, be nice to your old man. Your mother could be dying; she'd want us to be happy together. Give Daddy a kiss.

Someone bumped into her and Kate flinched and tensed, about to strike out when she realized she was still on the bus and that somebody was just sitting next to her.

The man next to her, tall with dark hair and soft brown eyes, seemed to notice that she had flinched. "Sorry," he said, leaning back. "Are you alright?"

Kate nodded and looked back out the window, towards the white Winnipeg landscape. "Yeah, sorry, fine."

He nodded and looked as though he was going to introduce himself, but seemed to think better of it, and they fell back into silence. Kate could just see the reflection of his outline in the window, and she studied it curiously.

He had strong, handsome features, yet his face still looked kind. A part of her longed to turn around and confide in him, but an image of Sam Austen flashed through her mind and she pushed away the notion.

Just because someone looked kind didn't mean they were the right person to confide in. It always just ended up hurting too much.

All of a sudden, the bus lurched to a stop. Kate had to grab onto the back of the seat in front of her to keep from falling over.

The man beside her looked equally concerned, his fate contorting into a frown as he leaned forward. "What's going on?" he called to the front. Kate cast him a sideways glance. So he was a man of action.

"We've lost power," replied the bus driver. The rest of the people on the bus had fallen silent as he had spoken. "The engine cut out."

Kate looked back out the window. "We're stuck on one of the parkways…"

"So if we tried to walk, we might just freeze," affirmed the man beside her darkly. "It's like we're on an island, just floating here and waiting for someone to come…"

Surprised, she twisted in her seat to look at him. An image of an island flashed dimly in her memory; a flare-up of her subconscious. What had Jung theorized? The collective human experience…

Kate was about to reply and question him when she noticed a certain chill sinking in. "He's lost heat, too…"

The dark-eyed man frowned. "It'll get cold in here in a second," he replied. His eyes narrowed as he noticed her shivering and Kate tried desperately to stop.

"Have my jacket," he offered, and before she could say no, he was taking off his thick brown jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders.

Kate accepted it gratefully, too weak and too cold to protest. She stared unseeingly out the window again, but stopped as soon as she noticed he was watching her.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"Nah. I'm made of iron," he told her through chattering teeth. Still, his smile was enough to warm her from head to toe.

Noticing something on his arm, she leaned closer to him. For a moment, being so close took to him took her breath away. But she quickly recovered as she scrutinized the marking she had seen.

"Nice tattoo," she said. He had been left wearing a grey shirt, and his handsome arms were exposed. "What does it mean in English?"

For a moment, he seemed to flinch and the colour drained from his face. But it quickly flooded back and the broken look in his eyes passed as he cracked a grin. "It stands for 'Hardcore Spinal Surgeon', actually."

"Hardcore, huh?" she asked idly, before the meaning of his words hit her and she sat bolt-upright.

"Yeah, that's me…" he trailed off as he noticed her stiff posture and wide eyes. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," she mumbled. "It's just…"

"It's just what?" he prodded, and his soft, insistent voice made her look up and meet his gaze with her own. A tremor ran through her as she realized his hand was on her shoulder.

"You said you were a spinal surgeon and my mom, she needs one and she's having another opinion today but, I don't know, he's not a specialist and if you could like maybe, do something…" she murmured, instinctively drawing closer to him for comfort.

He smiled. "Sure, I can take a look," he replied, leaning down closer to her face.

Their noses were almost brushing. Kate wanted to lean up and press her lips against his, imagining his lips to be soft and sweet. It felt as though her heart had stopped beating for a moment. His hazel eyes bored into hers, conveying more emotions than she had thought possible.

He pulled away. "Here's my business card," he offered her, drawing one out of his pocket.

Jack Shephard, spinal surgeon.

"Jack," she echoed his name as to burn it into her subconscious – but it was as if it was already firmly imprinted there.

"Hey, we're moving!" A gleeful shout made them both turn their heads. The bus had started to pick up again, and the snow had cleared. Soon they were hurtling – well, not crawling – down the road.

"This is my stop," said Kate after five minutes of staring at his card and wondering why he felt so familiar.

Jack smiled. "I'll see you later then. Don't hesitate to give me a call…"

"Kate," she informed him, right before she slid out the doors and exited the bus.

It was only after she entered the hospital that she realized she was still wearing his jacket.