Life Interrupted
Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten: Failsafe
It was like all he knew was pain. It wasn't necessarily familiar, but at that moment, all he knew was pain. He fell to the floor, weary eyes fighting to glare up at the man who had punched him. That man was Tom- or at least that's what they called him.
"Jack!"
Henry Gale knelt down beside him. His expression was truly of concern, from what Jack could see- his vision was already blury. His mind felt groggy, his limbs felt numb. His head hurt from where it had hit the wall and his mouth...he couldn't even comprehend screaming. Screaming wasn't a possibility right now. Instead his body did all the screaming for him, shouting out in pain. A stinging, cold pain.
Henry looked up to Tom.
"Get him to the doctor!" He ordered. His hand supported Jack's head in efforts to keep him from falling, but Jack didn't think to feel grateful. He couldn't feel much of anything at the moment, except for pain.
"He is a doctor," Tom shot back, messaging a hand like his jammed finger should be the priority of injuries in an emergancy room. "He can take care of himself."
Already Henry was lifting him up, and the further foward his feet were pushed, the further Jack felt himself fall into darkness. He didn't and didn't want to at the same time. It would be the sweet relief that was probably essential for his body, at the moment; forced sleep and silence of the mind. But he didn't want to be an excuse for a test subject...if that's what they were looking for.
Of course, he wasn't really thinking these thoughts at the moment. He was only thinking of them through his dream- nightmare- as he watched himself struggle through misery. These must thoughts must have been in mind then, he thought at first, but then he realized- he was in complete shock then. He wanted to wake up, but at the same time he knew he had to keep watching if he wanted his memory back. So he watched, not phsyically, but as though he were simply a third eye in the room, as the past form of himself fell into unconsciousness. He would know nothing more of that scene.
----
Next he saw himself laying on a grey-tinted floor. This time he drifted between being the third eye and being himself. He was the third eye watching himself lie on the floor, helpless; and then he was himself as his eyes swelled with tears, and as he desperately wanted nothing more than the relief of a breakdown. But as quick as it came he was the eye again, and he realized someone else one in the room. It was a girl, a young woman, cowarded against the far wall. Knees drawn to her chest she hugged herself as blonde hair fell past her eyes. She was crying.
----
He knew no more and the scene switched. Now he was sitting up. He was in a chair of some sort, but he couldn't see what kind. He was himself again, seeing through the eye of someone terrified, and someone trying to hide that terror.
"I need you to remember, Jack."
It was Henry's voice again; and then the man appeared in front of him. In his dream, Jack realized his hands weren't chained or tied to the chair. He was free to make whatever escape effort he wanted, and he didn't know why it had taken him so long to realize this. He threw a foot forward, and his shoe landed in the middle of Henry's chest. Henry stumbled back, but regained strength just as Jack scrambled out of the chair- of which kind he still could not tell.
But in moments he was shoved to the floor by a girl. In his dream, the part of him who suddenly appeared as the third eye again hoped that, in some crazy way, this girl could be Kate. But it wasn't, and the girl pinned him to the ground with a foot as she effortlessly tied his hands. For some reason of which his third eye could not see, he did not fight back.
----
That's what he woke up to. The lights were off; someone had already readied the hatch for the night. It was quiet too. If he were a writer this would have been Heaven. But he wasn't a writer; he was just a person trying to regain memory. He had puzzles to piece together and a life to learn about. Though the quiet hatch was a place to think, Jack now only wished to be able to fall back asleep. He had no fear now- he realized he still remembered his previous memory. And now he had the prequel.
It was some time before he finally got up. Giving up on falling asleep, Jack decided that his mind was playing tricks on him. There would only be certain times when his memory would come back, and he would never know when those times would be. Taking in this realization, Jack stood up. He had learned the hard way a few days ago to be conscious enough when he awoke to avoid hitting his head on the bunk above him. He wandered who had slept there before him- Desmond was alone when they found him. But he had never asked.
As far as he knew, it had been hours before someone had checked on Juliet. Walking away from the bunkbeds, Jack headed that way, finding it highly coincidently that at the same time he was remembering things it was his turn to check on Juliet. He was still hiding his new memories from Kate, but he knew he'd feel guilty for telling someone else before her. He'd given her his trust and promised not to lie to her. Sure, she had kept their brief reunion a secret, but he didn't feel as low as to hide from her for the sake of revenge.
----
A bottle of water was in one hand and a bowl of cereal in the other. Juliet was awake when he entered, but she didn't say anything until he sat the food down.
"It's quiet," she commented, "no one's been by."
For a moment a wave of dejavu hit him as he remembered Henry Gale as a captive. After a while, he'd become observant about what went on around the hatch and the people who stayed there. Of course, this was one piece of information that could be misinterpretated from being locked up in a room.
"It's late," he explained, "everyone's asleep."
She smirked.
"Not you."
Jack chuckled at the comment and shook his head.
"Not me," he agreed.
His laughter soon faded. Juliet eyed the cereal but made no move to eat it. Instead she glanced back up to him. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and shuddered as he remembered seeing her in his dream, crying(he assumed) at the site of seeing him sprawled about on the floor, helplessly laying there and waiting for the tears to come. Jack swallowed.
"Do you remember-" he stopped; of course she'd remember. She wasn't the one with the missing memory...and he couldn't help but to feel jealous about that. Why him and not her? Not that he'd wish this on anyone. "Do you know anything about some kind of doctor's office? Here, on the island?"
He had been staring at the floor as he worked on his question, but he looked up to her now. She stared back at him, as though wondering if she should tell him. At last she did.
"They took you there everyday," she whispered.
His mind swirld as he considered her answer. He stared at her, his mouth had fallen open with realization. There was no pain in his jaw as there had been in the dream.
"And not you?" He asked. She shook her head and chose to continue the story.
"I'd only go there sometimes," she explained, "a few times a week. I think you ate there too. When they brought me food they never brought you any, and I would ask if you were hungry. You'd always say no."
Neither of them mentioned that there were pleanty of other reasons he could have not been hungry. Jack just stayed quiet, taking this information in.
"Why?" She asked.
He looked to her, holding his breath, and thought of all the possibile lies out of this.
"No reason," he said at last. He offered her a small smile and walked towards the door.
"Are you remembering things?" She asked just before his hand could reach the door.
He hardly let himself hesitate before replying:
"No."
And he walked out. Closed the door. And leaned against it. Hand still rested on the doorhandle, Jack closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. And then he did the worst thing he could of done then- he made a promise he wouldn't tell any one else.
----
"Thanks," Michael said as Sawyer handed him a bottle of water.
Sawyer didn't show any sign of gratefulness for the thought. His face remained as serious, as furious, as ever.
"I'm only doing this because your kid's here," Sawyer told him.
Michael glanced over to Walt, who was still sleeping. A warm fire and a spare blanket protected him from the cool night's air; but Sawyer wasn't ready to offer him any more kindness than that.
"If it were different I would have put a bullet through you right then and there," he added. His cold tone didn't change. It was the only two senteces he had said to his old...friend. If he could even call Michael a friend back then.
"Look man, I understand-"
"You killed two of us," Sawyer shot, the flames of anger in his eyes contrasting the comfort of the fire nearby.
"I know," Michael said, slightly rushed to assure he'd get his word out. Sawyer let him talked, mostly in curiosity as to what possible excuse Michale had. "But I had to do what I could to get my kid back!"
Sawyer didn't answer him. There were other ways they could have gotten Walt.
"I'm sorry about Ana and Libby-" Sawyer's eyes diverted quickly to him, glaring at the sound of the shortened name of Ana-Lucia. Like she and Michael had been friends. He didn't blame Michael if he hated Ana-Lucia- she had held then captive in an underground pit- but he'd murdered her in order to let Henry Gale escape. He'd murdered Libby, who had obviously felt guilty about the captivity.
But the most horrific part of it all was that the Others had stayed true to their word. Michael had gotten Walt back, and he had gotten a chance for rescue. So why the hell was he here now?
"What the hell do you want?" Sawyer declared, echoing is thoughts.
Michael once again glanced towards Walt, as though checking to see if he were listening. Then he looked around the camp- and must have noticed Kate sleeping nearby.
"Is that Kate?" Michael asked, looking behind Sawyer to Kate's sleeping form.
"Yeah," Sawyer replied dryly.
"Congrats, man," Michael snorted. Sawyer wasn't amused.
"Don't get too excited," Sawyer said, "good 'ole Jack's still got a place in her heart." He didn't let Michael ask anymore questions. "What the hell do you want?"
First glancing between Kate and Walt, Michael leaned closer towards Sawyer and brought his voice down to a whisper.
"I found a failsafe."
Sawyer stared a him.
"A what?"
"A failsafe," Michael said. He began to get excited as he spoke. "You know, like-"
"I know what a failsafe is!" Sawyer hissed.
After a few weeks of silence about the incident, Locke and Desmond confessed to the whole button ordeal. Rather out of guilty conscience regarding Jack or everyone in general, they could then at least sleep better at night knowing there were worse things on the castaway's minds by then. Of course, Sawyer had known what a failsafe was before then.
"It's on the other side of the island," Michael went, waving his hands needlessly as he talked, "Walt and I found it-'
"Get to the point," Sawyer shot.
Michael stared at him, as though offended. Sawyer stared back, still not amused, eyes still cold with anger. Maybe Michael didn't realize just how angry the camp was at him. He was in for a surprise, then.
"I think it shuts it down," Michael explained.
"Shuts what down?" Sawyer asked. He didn't exactly see what Michael was so excited about. All the last failsafe did was knock out the hatch computer and leave an irritating vacant buzz in everyone's ear. Sure, getting rid of the computer meant no more button-pushing, but God only knew what it did to the air around them.
"Dharma!" Michael exclaimed. "The whole island, it-"
"Would you be quiet?" Sawyer snapped, glancing around at not only Kate but towards the direction of everyone else as well. He knew some people who wouldn't be as willingly to, well, not kill Michael. "What the hell are you saying?"
"We've got to pull it."
A dark silence followed. Michael's excitment lingered in the air as a reminder of his plan. It didn't make sense. Michael was wanting to destroy the people who had set him free from the island. Then again, those same people had kept him there. Those same people had kidnapped them, and Claire before then. They'd left Charlie hanging for dead and had kept Jack for nine months. The plan was almost...genius. But there were a few plot holes.
"Why do you want my help?" Sawyer inquired. Question number one.
"You don't want revenge?" Michael responded in surprise. "You don't want to destroy those people?"
"Yeah, I do," Sawyer admitted forcefully, "but why the hell couldn't you have done this by yourself? Who knows, it might have earned you some points around here."
Michael bit his lip, like he was a child ashamed of their wrong-doing. He glanced again at Walt.
"Whatever happens out there..." Michael shook his head, and even through the darkness Sawyer noticed his eyes beginning to water. "And whatever happens afterwards...I don't know if I can take it." He struggled to hold back tears, choking on his words. "I need help. I need to make sure my boy's safe. I'll pull the failsafe, I've just..." He stopped struggling and looked Sawyer in the eye. "I've got to do this man, I've got to this for my son."
He found himself actually considering this. What if he did it? What if he shut down the island? Hell if that wouldn't win Kate's heart, what would? But the idea was still crazy...at least on Michael's reasoning.
"What your son needs is for you to be there for him," Sawyer pointed out, "not for you to be off risking your life on some insane revenge plot!" Michael didn't answer him; he looked furious. "Let me pull the failsafe."
"No!" Michael hissed. "I'm going to do it, I just need your help!"
Before Sawyer could protest once again, Walt shifted in his sleep from nearby. Both of their heads snapped in his direction, but Walt did not wake. The interruption still scared their conversation away.
"I'll pull the failsafe," Sawyer declared. Sighing, he reached behind him for some water to put the fire out with. "Just sleep on the idea."
Michael's face illuminated in hope.
"You'll let me stay?"
"Yeah," Sawyer sighed again. "Just stay in the tent. If you being back don't scare everyone you're damn beard will."
Even Michael laughed at this.
"Thanks man," he said, "I appreciate this, really."
"Whatever," Sawyer muttered.
As he lay down he watched the fire dim back to its original pile of wood, only now it was rusted away. He considered the position of risk he was putting himself in, both with helping Michael and agreeing with the failsafe idea. He really thought about it. But if Dharma was gone, would anyone care if Michael was back?
What he really feared though, was the truth: pulling the failsafe didn't necessarily mean that the Others would be gone. And the one thing to fear was most likely Michael's biggest concern, the reason he'd come all the way to this side of the island instead of just pulling the failsafe when he found it: how would they react?
----
It was called the Green Room because of the hand-drawn tree on the far wall. She had drawn it. Well, with much help from Pickett. She had been six, and wasn't very good artistically. Or with writing. They drew it on the spur of the moment while Alexander sat behind them, not watching them closely, but deep in thought. He always was that way.
"But why can't the tree be orange?" Alex protested.
Pickett laughed.
"Because trees are green."
He never did get frustrated with her useless questions or confusion. She supposed it was why she liked him the best.
"But I want it to be orange!" Alex pouted. She remembered taking a liking to the color every since she was told she looked pretty in this one orange blouse she had as a kid.
"Maybe when you're older you can have an island of your own where the trees are orange," Pickett grinned at the thought, "ain't that right, Zerek."
She turned towards Alexander, who snapped out of his thoughts long enough to reply:
"Sure."
Alex smiled, but soon her face fell. Except for when it came to wanting to color trees orange or wishing the grass could be pink, Alex was quick about realizing reality.
"Where are the other islands?" She asked, looking up to Pickett. He only glanced towards Alexander, looking worried. But Alexander simply stood up, scooting the chair away as he did.
"They're not around here," he replied. He then leaned in towards Pickett and whispered: "You're not coloring inside the lines."
With a laugh Alexander left the room. Pickett looked puzzled by this realization, but Alex only grinned and continued to color in the tree, still wishing it could be orange.
She looked around the room fearfully as she was ushered inside. Michael Pickett was in there, as well as the doctor. Otherwise the room was empty. The Green Room's name also stood true in the sense that it was a like a waiting room: there was a small kitchen against a far wall, some tables and chairs, and an old television that had never worked. As a kid she wondered if the rest of them could see something inside that weird-looking screen that she couldn't. This was the room they would form their plans in. This was the room where Alexander would sit and think for hours, and he wouldn't answer to anyone until he came up with the solution to his newest problem. The tree still decorated the far wall, including the traces of evidence that Michael wasn't the best artist around. There actually was a man named Mr. Pearson who was a fantastic artist, but he didn't have nearly enough of a sense of humor to spend his time decorating walls.
Now there was a chair in the middle of the room. The lights were dim here too, like they were trying to hide their presense. She wondered what excuse Alexander gave to keep the others away.
"Have a seat," Alexander declared, waving a hand towards the center of the room.
"I'm fine," she said. Sitting would make herself inferior to them. And she was not inferior to them. She was one of them, though she had funny ways of showing and admitting this.
"I don't think that was an offer," Dr. Campbell defended from across the room. She glared at him, her eyes angry with the hypocrital doctor who really didn't seem to know what the true meaning of saving someone was. Saving someone did not mean keeping them locked up in a cell.
Nevertheless she did sit, only after glancing towards Michael, who nodded in agreement. She stared at him as she walked to the center of the room to sit down, everyone's eyes following her. Once seated she looked to each of them, and they all knew the question she was going to ask. They more than likely heard it from all of their prisoners every day:
"Why am I here?"
Now she looked directly at Alexander. The one she knew was responsible for this.
"A week ago we sent Juliet out to bring Jack back," Alexander began. He started to pace the room. "She hasn't come back."
Sometimes she found it hard to believe that anyone could be so stubborn, so oblivious of reality. But she didn't interrupt. She wanted to know what was going on without him getting angry at her for being disrespectful or impatient. Even though she had every right to be both disrespectful and impatient.
"And if she doesn't come back in two days," he continued and stopped walking, "we're going to send you after him."
Her eyes widened and she looked at Michael. But Alexander hardly gave her time to ask questions.
"We're going to send you out," he repeated, "and if you're successful then you're free."
"'Free'?" She inquired. 'Free' could mean so many things here.
"You'll be free," Alexander said. He smiled. "You know the rules here. You do this for me, and you don't have to stay here anymore."
"What does that mean?" She turned to Michael, searching his eyes desperately for an answer.
"It means we can leave," Michael replied. He was keeping calm now, but she remembered his excitment from eariler.
"Leave?" She said, a hint of fear escaping through the one word she had never even considered. Leave? But where would she go? Where was there to go?
"Think about it," Alexander said.
But Alex hardly heard him. Her mind was swirling with this opportunity being presented to her, so much so that she forgot the original task at hand.
"Is he coming with me?" She said, looking from Michael and Alexander.
The two men glanced towards each other. Alexander even looked annoyed, as though this was something they had faught over many times.
"Yes," Michael said. He diverted his eyes towards her. "Yes, I'm coming with you."
Alexander smiled grimly.
"Like I said," he said as he walked over and took Alex by the arm, "think hard." He lifted her out of the seat but let go once she was standing.
"I'm going back to that room," she said, coldly making her observations clear.
Alexander glances to Michael, who was glaring at him, hatred trailing a line from himself to them.
"No," Alexander said.
The doctor opened the door and Alexander stepped out, Dr. Campbell following. She and Michael remained, staring at each other.
"We're leaving?" She whispered, the thought still ringing in disbelief to her ears. Subconsciously, they each glanced over to the tree on the wall, the one they had drawn together.
"We'll be fine," Michael assured. He walked towards her, putting a supportive arm around her as he led her out the door, "I promise."
But suddenly Alex was feeling sick. As they walked out she glanced behind him, taking in every detail of the room, like she was afraid it was the last time she'd see it.
And that's when she realized: she was afraid it'd be the last time she'd see it.
----
He was contemplating going back to sleep; part of him was desperate for the next chapter of his story, while the other feared it. There was something different about him. Why didn't they come back for Kate and Sawyer? They seemed satisfied with having Jack as their only captive- from the castaways, at least. Even with Claire they never came back. He was there for nine months. There was some doctor he went to see every day. Juliet hardly ever did. Kate never mentioned him.
What was so different about him?
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Jack asked himself the question as he done again and again that morning. Staring at the now-empty bottle of water in his hands, sitting alone in the kitchen of the hatch, Jack wondered what set him apart from the rest of the world. There were other great doctors out there. Surely that wasn't it. And besides, if the Others were that desperate for a doctor, couldn't they just get one from the outside world? Unless having one of the island was just a grateful convience. But for nine months? He supposed it was possible, but...he rubbed his eyes again. As he brought his hand away from his face, Jack caught glimpse of some of the scars on his arms. A jacket was near by, were someone to come in- he still didn't want everyone worrying about him- but now the scars stood out on his arms like cracks in a wall. If they wanted him to help, why hurt him? But he knew the answer to that right away...if he had refused...Jack shuddered. And swallowed. His throat was dry.
He stood up and walked over to the sink. Jack turned the water on and frowned. The water pressure was low...too low. He waited a few moments and turned the water off when there was no changed. Sighing, he walked back over to the table and picked up the jacket. He'd have to go to the caves.
On the way out he picked up an extra bottle for Juliet.
"Heading out?" Locke asked. He was reading a book on the couch.
"Water pressure's low," Jack explained, pulling on the jacket.
"It's hot out," Locke warned him.
"I'm cold," Jack defended quickly. Locke raised an eyebrow, but he didn't ask.
He exited the hatch and sighed with relief when he was able to step out into the jungle without another interruption. Bliding sunlight welcomed him, beaming down through the trees. Jack looked up to the sky, squinting as the bright sunrays met his eyes. Green and blue dots sprinkled his vision when he quickly diverted his eyes to the ground, and Jack immediately continued walking forward, almost running, as though fleeing from the sun. This was what he had become. Some kind of creature that prayed on the dark and silence.
----
The caves were even worse than the jungle. He felt like a freshmen on the first day of high school. People swamred the halls, staring at him, daring him to interefere with their lives...their coolness. They rushed passed them, running on a familiar schedule he'd yet to get used to. And even though he was mixed in with people he had known for some time, it seemed like he couldn't find anyone he knew. It was suffocating; hell, it was almost embarrasing.
But he tried not to dwell on it. Tearing his eyes away from the life around him, Jack turned back to the waterfall. Knealing down, he let the water bottles fill up, hoping no one would try and talk to him.
"Hey, Jack."
Without realizing it he cringed at Claire's perky voice. Truthfully despite his wish to be alone, it wasn't because she spoke to him but because he knew what she would ask about.
"Hey, Claire," Jack replied, recovering as he stood.
When he turned around he realized Claire wasn't alone. A little boy he didn't even recognize stood beside her. And he was really standing, though clutching bravely to Claire's hand.
"This is Aaron?" Jack said, smiling in astonishment at the boy's growth.
Claire grinned.
"Yes."
"He's probably terrified of me," Jack said with a laugh; but the little boy only grinned as he held on tightly to his mothers hand. While the grip was of caution and fear, Jack could have sworn were to anyone try and harm Claire at that moment, Aaron's grip on her hand would have protected her. He offered the boy a smile. Aaron smiled back.
"Sawyer doesn't scare him," Claire pointed out, "I think he'll be okay."
Jack's smile lingered a moment before fading away, and a sudden akwardness of the confrontation sank in. He waited, letting her decided when to ask. Now was when he decided if he wanted to answer.
"Have you remembered anything else?" Claire finally asked.
Jack looked around him, eyeing everyone in the caves and seeing their lives.
"No," Jack lied, and confirmed calmly, "no, I haven't,"
It wasn't fair that he was lying to these people who had gone through so much without him. But he had gone through so much without them as well. He was seeing that now, and he didn't even know the whole story yet.
Claire studied him, obviously suspicious. But she didn't question him.
"Okay," she said with a smile. And she obviously was not okay with it. She swallowed; Jack knew that if she was being truthful in keeping her promise of not telling Kate, than this was torturing her conscience. Now he was lying to her. "But if you do need me, just come find me. Okay?"
Fighting to keep a calm, collect, face, Jack nodded. She smiled again.
"See you around, then," she said. She looked uncertain as she turned, walking away with Aaron's protective grip still keeping herself together.
He waited until she was safely out of sight, lost in the crowds of the caves, and breathed a sigh of relief.
----
Jack winced as the armory door creaked open. It was still early, and it seemed like no matter how much he slept he was never rested. At this point, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Just sit around and remember things?
"Hi," Juliet greeeted softly, accepting the water he gave her. Jack only nodded. After taking a swallow of the water, she looked up to him and commented: "You look sick."
"Thanks," Jack snorted.
She offered him a smile. Leaning back against one of the cabinets, Jack attempted to let himself relaxed. He wondered, as he would every time he entered the armory, what he should tell her. But that only made him feel more uncomfortable as he thought about the dreams: she had cried as he lay there, assumingly...sick? Exhausted? Hurt? Jack swallowed. That was why he should be talking to her.
"You really don't remember?" Juliet spoke up.
Jack shook his head.
"No."
She scotted back towards the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. She looked afraid. She had been hoping this wasn't true.
"Nothing?" She asked, voice breaking in disbelief.
Taking in a deep breath, Jack shook his head. He didn't know exactly what he should be telling her...instead he realized he had another problem. She wasn't the enemy. If he wanted to trust that these dreams truly were memories, then he knew that she wasn't the enemy. How was it fair, then, that he was keeping her locked up in here? He had no right to feel sorry or hate the Others when he was doing exactly what they did. He realized, then, that he'd have to tell. But at the same time it wasn't fair that that had to happen when he didn't want it to- or wasn't ready for it to.
"They know they changed you."
Jack looked up to Juliet.
"Changed me?" He inquired. But every answer Juliet would give would come to make sense.
"Your personality," she explained, "how you look at people. They know they're winning."
"'Winning'?" Jack said with a dry laugh and shook his head, "how the hell do you know they're winning if you don't even know what they wanted?"
"It's obvious," Juliet said, looking at him with a fixed determination, "even when you escaped they knew they'd still have power over you."
Jack laughed again, finding it almost amusing that this women he hardly remembered could find herself in position to judge him.
"They don't have power over me," Jack said.
This time Juliet laughed; a low, amused chuckle escaping her like a cruel shrill of triumph.
"Then why am I here?" She challeneged.
"We were always-"
"No," Juliet proclaimed. Her eyes twinkled knowingly. "You're still afraid of them."
"Of course I-" Jack stopped, realizing he was yelling. Calming himself down, Jack went on: "yeah, I'm afraid. They kept me for nine months. My memory's gone. I have no idea what happened to me!"
"Then find out."
"I don't even know where they are!" Jack snapped.
But Juliet only smiled.
"I do."
Jack looked to her, and he realized what this was about.
"They kept us for nine months," she said, grinning with anticipation, "and me for more. We're on the same side."
She paused to let him take this in and look at everything from a different point of view. If she was telling him the truth and if the memories really were memories, then they were in the perfect position to fight back. Maybe the other castaways had some kind of lead that they assumed could know longer work, but Juliet could help them with that. She could remember what he couldn't- most of it- and he...he could find out every answer he ever wanted about the island. If this worked.
But as Jack looked around the empty shelves of the armory that didn't even belong to them, his dreams were crushed. This wasn't their island. There was no way Juliet could know more about it than the Others did. They had every advantage the castaways could only dream about having. Surely they were low on weapons by now. And as plausible as it would be and as much motivation they had to fight against the Others, the truth was that a good percentage of the castaway population was probably terrified of them.
"Look," Jack began, "even if we could do this, there are too many risks. We don't have the weapons. We don't have the knowledge-"
"You have me," Juliet pointed out, grinning. "This is your chance. As long as They're out there, your people aren't safe."
He knew this was true. But he wasn't going to let another incident like what happened with Henry happen again.
"Like I said," Jack spoke up, "it's not as easy as you think."
He turned to leave. She would only try again to change his mind, and again he would have to turn the most plausible solution down.
"When I'm I gonna get out of here?"
The question wasn't filled with anticipation and excitement like her other speeches. Her voice dropped, her tone softened. When he turned she looked frightened again; worried.
"I don't know," he sighed honestly.
"We're on the same side," Juliet urged, "please...I swear I'm not the enemy."
Looking away, Jack hesitated. He would have liked to believe her. It would do anything but hurt them to know they had an ally. But lately he was finding trust harder and more difficult to deal with. He wasn't going to let history repeat himself.
"I'll talk to Locke and Sayid," Jack promised. Eventually he would have to...but he knew exactly what they'd say. The only way they'd know if she's telling the truth would be for Jack to remember it.
"Since when is leadership a group effort?" Juliet challenged.
'Group effort' was a funny way of putting it. From what he remembered, neither himself, Locke, nor Sayid could ever agree on a single issue. And so far, he hadn't done anything to attempt to fall back into a leader position. He supposed they only felt sorry for him; they felt obligated to include him.
Nevertheless, he knew the answer:
"Since They came along."
He left without another word. For all he knew, she already knew that answer.
Locke was on the couch when he entered the hatch. He wasn't reading, and Jack got the irritated impression that he had been waiting for him.
"Don't you need to talk to me?" Locke asked, mocking a clearly overhead conversation.
Jack sighed. It was like some higher force was demanding that everything should happen this fast pace. He gets his first memory, he's forced with the debate of telling someone. He has a captive that could be innocent and might have the memory to prove it. Then again, all those dreams could simply be dreams. Now he had the opportunity for war.
"Forget it," he muttered, walking into the bedroom.
"You've got to have some opinion," Locke called back to him as Jack sat down on the bed. "Feel free to talk about it.'
"I said forget it," Jack called back. He closed his eyes, attempting to take in the relief of relaxation. Juliet would have heard every word of that. What was stopping her from telling anyone everything? Jack groaned in frustration. As much as he tried to make things easier he was only making things worse.
----
Someone held his shoulder for support until he was in the room. He tried to walk but only was able to stumble to the far wall, where he gradually lowered himself to the floor. The girl was watching him- the one the doctor called Juliet. Once he was safely on the floor, Jack's hand flew instinctively to his sore jaw. He didn't know what his new tooth looked like, all he'd done was stay in recovery for a day, once or twice being drugged to sleep and encourage to eat soft foods. Yet he felt drained.
"Are you okay?" A worried Juliet asked fearfully. He didn't answer- he wasn't sure he could. He wince as he tried to move his jaw; it felt as though the pain would never go away. "What did they do?"
He wasn't listening. Two more days had passed and he was still here. They'd still given him no word about Kate and Sawyer. He didn't know where they were, if they were okay, or even if they were alive. Jack shuddered at the thought. And when Jack had mentioned Kate to the doctor...he'd frowned like something was wrong.
From across the room Juliet shivered, though careful to not budge from her perminate position, seated against the wall with her knees drawn to her chest. Her face was pale, streaked with hidden tears. Though the one particular shiver was audible, she rarely stopped shaking. Her voice was always unsteady; there was always an unmistakable fear in her eyes. Out of instinct once again, Jack bit his lip and grimaced at the pain. He thought again about Juliet and what he knew about her- which was nothing. He didn't know where she came from or what she knew...his mind suddenly raced in thought. Maybe it was time to introduce himself.
"Have you seen someone?" Jack began quietly, carefully as he attempted to ignore the pain that came with every word, "a woman? With long brown hair..." he felt his eyes beginning to swell with tears as he fought for something more descriptive, "...freckles...or a guy...long hair, southern accent?" He stopped to catch his breath, but Juliet was already shaking her head.
"I haven't seen anyone." A small whimper escaped her. He could hope for all the good news he wanted, but even as part of him expected this answer, he still felt like he'd be sick. The answer gave him some kind of horrifying forshadowing that gave him proof that something was wrong.
----
"Open your eyes."
The commanding, yet calm, voice sparked some power within his mind to obey and Jack groaned as his eyelids fluttered open. His head was pounding. He hadn't been knocked out, but just being led to wherever the hell this was blindfolded, gagged, and with the burlap sack over his head was enough to make him nausiated.
"Good," Henry said. Jack still hadn't heard his real name. "Just another minute and we'll be ready to go."
"The system's ready," someone told Henry from the side.
Jack glanced around, his heart racing in panic. Yet when he looked around, there looked to be nothing to be afraid of. Aside from Henry and whomever the voice was(it was young and belonged to a female), the room was empty. Not only that, but nothing but a simple chair sat in the room. Only grey walls stared back at him.
"Where is this place?" Jack asked wearily, his voice rasp with exhaustion.
"You don't need to worry about that," Henry said, as though this should reassure him.
Learning that he wouldn't get an answer, Jack looked around again to try and find one. All he could see was some kind of station to the side. There was a woman there, seated in front of some kind of computer.
"What are you doing to me?" Jack's weak voice demanded.
"All done," Henry announced, ignoring him. When Henry stepped away his head suddenly felt lighter. He attempted to keep his eye on Henry as he walked towards the computer station. Jack watched as Henry and the young woman- who, now that Jack thought about it, couldn't be older than a teenager. His eyebrows furrowed; but what was meant as a simple notation of confusion sent waves of pain through his head. He tried to move but something pinched his face as he did. Something was hooked up to him.
"What are you doing to me?" Jack said again. He could both feel and see his vision swerving in and out of his range of sight. His heart raced; he breathed in a rapid panic. "I'm not tied up," he announced as Jack noticed his arms were free of any binds. He curled his knuckles in hope, but any one movement only led to worse symptoms. "What's happening to me?"
"Just calm down, Jack." Now Henry's voice sounded like it was coming from a microphone- inside his head.
Jack's eyes only continued its dance of worry and fear. Soon Henry appeared in front of him, frowning. A cold hand landed on Jack's forehead, and Henry announced a moment later:
"He has a fever."
"Of course he does," the woman said.
Henry shook his head before knealing down to Jack's level.
"What the hell are you doing to me?" Jack demanded again. It was all he could do to keep his eyes focused on Henry.
"I need you to do this for me, Jack," Henry explained, "that's why you're not tied up. That wouldn't help you relax, would it?"
"You think I'm going to help you just because I'm relaxed?" Jack shot, a crazed chuckle escaping him. His words were unsteady. Jack was certain that was going to be the only comeback he'd be able to get out.
"No," Henry admitted, "I know that I could torture you just like Sayid did and you wouldn't have a problem with me, just like how I was."
Jack proved himself wrong.
"I'm not like you," he spat. "And if you were any normal human being you wouldn't have the stupidity to torture someone you want help from."
Almost smiling in pride, Jack welcomed a break from having to defend himself.
"I'd prove you wrong," Henry said, smiling to himself. He looked up from where he had been staring at the ground and met Jack's eyes. "But like I said, that wouldn't help you."
With one hand holding onto one of the arms of the chair Jack was in, Henry stood up.
"And you're health's going to need all the help it can get," he went on, "thank God for Dr. Campbell. He's the best in his field, you know."
"And what field's that?" Jack challenged. He'd have to stop talking soon: his chest hurt and his head was still pounding. Maybe he should mention that to this so-called brilliant doctor.
Henry grinned.
"Neurology."
----
And he thought the next scene was exactly the same as the first...him, seated against the wall, looking drained; and Juliet huddled against the far wall, shaking in looking frightened. Only this time, he had a black eye instead of a sore and bruised jaw...
----
"I don't get it. When you're given a boat to escape an island, you don't go back to the damn island!" Sawyer snapped.
Michael glanced subconsciously towards Walt, who was asleep by his father's side.
"We were going to escape," Michael began, speaking in a low hiss as he turned back to Sawyer, "but when we got out there, all I could think about was how I was going to get over this...how my son was going to get over this. Do you have any idea what they did to him?"
Sawyer stared at him, wondering even to himself if he was going to be able to give this guy another chance- even despite desperate attempts at sympathy.
"No," Sawyer replied.
"Neither do I." Michael's eyes were wide and angry now, and he paused to let this sink in. "And then I started thinking...how am I going to get back at them?"
Sawyer shook his head.
"You've gotta be kiddin' me."
"Kidding you?" Michael exclaimed. "You think this is a joke?" He stopped himself short of his yelling, glancing once again towards his son before lowering his voice. "I've got to do this, for my son."
"You think Walt would want you to become some...criminal...for him?" Sawyer hissed.
"I'm already a murderer."
A cold glare met his eyes, offended that someone would even suggest he wasn't serious. Michael assumed Sawyer was convinced.
"The failsafe turns off everything," Michael began, "it-"
"What failsafe?"
Sawyer's hear lept as Kate stepped into the tent, without an introduction other than her confusion. She stopped when she saw Michael. Then her eyes fell to Walt. Then to Sawyer.
"What the hell's going on?" She demanded quietly.
"Just get in here," Sawyer said, glancing nervously to the opening through the flap of the tent. Still looking confused, Kate stepped in. She didn't offer any more of sign of recognition to Michael.
"What the hell's going on?" She said again to Sawyer.
"Michael's back," Sawyer replied.
Kate glanced towards Michael.
"No kidding."
Sawyer sighed.
"He needs our help," he explained, throwing in the 'our' without a thought, "but don't worry about it. I'll handle it."
"Help with what?" Kate inquired, glancing between Sawyer and Michael.
After a pause of silence, it was finally Michael who answered:
"It doesn't concern you," he replied coldly.
"Doesn't concern me?" Kate repeated, eyes narrow with anger.
"You wanna yell a little louder, Freckles?" Sawyer snapped. "I said I've got it."
"If it's going to risk your life-"
"No," Sawyer interrupted bitterly, "Michael came back here to recruit me in his army to save the world of bunnies." No one laughed at the joke. He turned back to Michael, attempting to ignore Kate. "What do you need me to do?"
Kate stared at him incredulously, obviously dying to stop him from doing whatever the hell it was he was signing up to do. Still he waited for Michael's answer.
"I just need you to watch my son," Michael explained.
Now Sawyer had reason to be angry.
"That's it?" He shot, his voice fighting to not yell. "You put yourself through hell to get that kid back, and now you're dropping him off with me?"
"I can't take him back out there!" Michael exclaimed. "He needs to be protected...but after I do this..." trailing off, Michael looked over towards his son, a desperate pleading hope in his eyes, "we'll be safe."
Kate hadn't said anything, but now she looked interested. No one had brought up an explanation for the failsafe- exactly what 'everything' was, but there was something about Michael's determination that made 'safe' seem like a real possibility. It suddenly hit them that it was possible now- everyone was here again. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe it was time to fight back...for it all to be over. He didn't glance to Kate for approval or even support. He already had decided on his opinion.
"Okay."
----
The light from the film glowed in the darkness of the room. Jack sat in a familiar seat, making almost an identical mirror of the first time he saw this film. The only thing missing was Locke and his child-like excitement about these people who supposedly ran this island. The man had been fascinated by it. Like that had been his answer. The answer Boone died for, the answer they'd all ended up risking their lives for. Jack still couldn't see the brilliance of it.
"Hey," came Kate's soft voice from the door way. She entered the room, her eyes already watching the film. "Fascinating, huh?"
"Just the word I was thinking of," Jack mumbled. He didn't see Kate half-smile in reply. "Do you think this is it?" He said, the statement sounding sudden. "That I was taken for experiments?" He watched, transfixed by the moving pictures on the film: the person being monored by some kind of psycologist, the students doing jumping jacks outside. At one point, was he one of those people? "That I was just a lab rat and some assignment number?"
He remembered the feeling of being strapped down in his dream- knowing that something was attatched to him. Some kind of machine, though he didn't know what. Maybe he didn't even know what it was then.
"It fits the picture," Jack added. He thought about the scars on his arms, the marks that made perfect sense with his theory. Thinking of other solutions drew equally as disturbing answers. Tests would fit right in to what seemed to be the nature of the island- one giant experiment. He only wished someone would come clean about whatever happened in the hatch to assure his reasoning. Suddenly he glanced towards Kate, noticing that she, too, was now watching the film as though in a trance. "You okay?" He knew he had to consider that she was realizing the possible truth to his theory.
"Yeah," she whispered, the reply escaping her robotically. He watched her for a moment before finally going back to the film. As he did, Kate bit her lip, and immediately Jack knew: she was hiding something. Nevertheless, he didn't question her. He wanted to see if she'd tell him. "You look tired."
Or maybe her off-topic comment would give the hint.
"All I've done is sleep," Jack admitted, partially amused. He let out a laugh. "I'm tired of sleep."
He was lying as well...he had no right to be angry with her. The dreams/nightmares/memories he was having were as exhausting and confusing as they were relieving. He never knew what would happen to him- just like himself in the dreams/nightmares/memories. Jack could feel his own panic, his own fear. It was an experience beyond imagination.
"That's a nice change," Kate said with a sad smile. Jack nodded, though he didn't really agree. But just the thought of sleep reminded him of his restless sleep, and without thinking Jack closed his eyes, casually letting his head fall back against the couch.
"Temperature of 102..."
----
"Close your eyes and remember..."
----
Again he was sitting in the room, the same drained appearance, the same terrified Juliet against the far wall.
----
"Temperature of 103..."
----
"I think they're gone."
It was Jack's own voice that time. He was in the room again, only now Juliet was by his side, looking at him with a reaction of fear and sympathy. His expression was almost the same- fear and self-pity.
----
"Temperature of 104..."
----
"Zander-"
----
"I'll leave you to your movie then."
Jack's head snapped up, and the memories fluttered away. The voice was Kate's this time and from the present- or at least he could assume so. She was already leaving, and only the movie was their to keep him company now. It's voices filled his mind and scenes haunted his thoughts. It was no wonder there wasn't a summary on the back cover of the box.
Kate looked behind her has she snuck into the pantry. Hurrying, while still frequently glancing towards the exit, Kate opened her backback and began stuffing it with food. It was rare when she'd simply do something on orders- no questions asked. All Sawyer had said was that to trust him, she'd want Michael to do this. Whatever 'this' was.
A curse escaped her as some packaged food fell to the floor instead of to her bag. She beant down to pick the bag of potato chips up, and the break in her fast-pace planning forced her to stop and think...possibly even reconsider. But Sawyer's voice was still stuck in her head, repeated to herself over and over again to trust him.
"Dammit, Sawyer," she muttered under her breath, "you better be right."
Author's Notes:
Thanks for the reviews!
Until next time...
October Sky