Charlie's House

Bel Air

Saturday, 10:55 AM

"Ten points for promptness," Claire was standing on the front steps as Jack walked up from the driveway. She had one hand on her almost-constantly aching back and a nervous smile that wasn't quite making it to her eyes.

She'd been both looking forward to and dreading their lunch plans, but she realized now it was mostly because she'd been very on edge at the lawyer's office. It hadn't helped that he'd been in full-grownup mode: In weekend jeans and casual button down shirt he looked a lot less intimidating and maybe even a little anxious, too.

"It's a really annoying habit of mine," Jack said, tucking his keys away, "Overly punctual. Yeah, you think that's great today, but wait until the fiftieth time we meet up and I'm already waiting for you, looking at my watch. I get a lot of eye rolls."

She laughed and there was an awkward couple of seconds while they each tried to decide how to greet the other. Jack stepped in and then back and Claire jumped forward, gave him a much bigger than anticipated hug. She smiled when she felt a surprised and happy exhalation from him.

"How about we go in and I'll meet your friends?" Jack nodded toward the door behind her. Claire kept her smile but he noticed her biting her lip, looking down.

It seemed to Claire that the better Charlie felt, the more he and Liam fought. Claire had grown up an only child with a mom and an aunt, no one else around and the sound of two grown men fighting as loudly and angrily as they had today had sent her outside to the pool, shaking.

"It hasn't been a good morning in the Pace household," Claire finally said in a deep and overly serious tone of voice, trying to keep things light, her forehead wrinkling in a way that looked instantly familiar to Jack. "Maybe on the way back?"

He looked from the door to her and the concern on his face made her nerves jump. She knew herself well enough to know what her reaction was about, but it didn't stop the little fission of annoyance. How dare he worry about her?

"Sure," Jack started then both back toward his SUV. "No rush."

"Where are we going again?" Claire asked once they were buckled in and on the way.

"Huntington Beach," he said, "Great restaurant on the Pacific Coast Highway, about an hour south. Well, the view is great. The food… I hope it's still good. Haven't been there in three, no, four years. Damn. Is that possible?"

"What do you do for fun, on weekends?" Claire asked.

"Sleep in," Jack said, a half grin, half grimace on his face that said he knew how bad this was going to sound, "And I work a little less than other days…"

"Work: That's Monday through Friday…" she said.

"Surgery is Monday through Friday. Nights and weekends are for charts and reports, reading up on the new journal articles, prepping for cases…"

"Are you kidding me?" Claire blurted, then her hand went to her mouth. "Sorry. Damn, do you not have any life of your own at all?"

There was a pause while Jack drove, started to say something and stopped, one hand leaving the wheel to brush over his head.

"It's the life I was raised into," he said, finally. "I'm not sure I'd know what to do with anything else. Actually, I do know because I tried and… it went very badly. Yet another thing I've managed to blame on the family business."

"He came to see me," Claire broke in. "Five years ago. My mom was in a crash and he heard about it somehow, showed up out of nowhere. He wanted me to take her off life support. I was so pissed at him then, but she's still in a coma. The reason I was upset the other day … it's because I was wishing I'd had the chance to see him once more and tell him he was right and that I'm sorry I told him to go away and leave me the hell alone."

Claire paused for a shaky breath, looked over to Jack and saw him still processing her words, picturing the conversation, the expression he knew must have been on his father's face at that moment.

"Sorry. Too much at once…" she said.

"Yeah," he breathed it. "Wow, neither one of us gave him a break, did we?"

"No," Claire dragged the word out, and the way her accent turned the simple 'o' in the word into an 'a' and two 'w's and an r broke the mood, made him smile. "But he probably deserved every bit of it."

"You know what…" Jack turned on the radio, shook his head. "Let's not talk about any of our parents the rest of the day, okay? There's time for that. I want to hear about you."

"Sure," Claire started flipping through the XMS satellite stations, didn't bother to ask permission and he watched her, amused. "Like what?"

"Start by telling me about these rock stars, and why you're staying with them and not with my mom or me like we offered…"

"Aw crap," Claire looked out the far window, grinning. "I fell right into that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Jack said.

Route 66
Arizona

12:00pm

"Okay, repeat it back to me," Sawyer was sprawled out in the driver's seat, hands loose on the wheel, aiming them toward Texas. He'd just given Kate her first instructional session on Grifting 101.

"We stop for gas. I distract the clerk and you tell him he only gave you change for a twenty when you gave him a hundred dollar bill. Generally they're gonna have at least one of them in the till, so the trick is getting them so distracted they don't bother to count. Seriously is the eighty bucks worth the risk?"

"Of course not," Sawyer huffed. "Wanna see what you've got for acting skills. Plus there's no risk – if he catches on, I say, 'sorry, my mistake' and I flash a hundred from my wallet."

"You need to know if I'm worth your time, basically," Kate grinned over at him, her legs folded in front of her on the passenger's seat.

"Well, I wouldn't put that hard a point on it," Sawyer said, "But yeah, pretty much."

"Have you thought about investing your way out of your current job?" Kate asked and she got silence in return. "I mean, you're reaching out to your contacts to set up a big scam or three. If you pull in a couple of million, wouldn't you think it might be worth…. diversifying?"

"You mean for five percent interest in a bank account?" Sawyer looked like he couldn't decide whether to be amused or ticked off at her presumptuousness.

"Well, no, of course not- but maybe put some in real estate, then take the money from that and recruit some people to invest in some things with you." She saw him looking at her like her head was on sideways and she plowed ahead. "I'm not suggesting you go all legit at one time, but you might work your way to a business model that won't land you in prison."

"This is exactly why I do not do this. Help a girl out and she gets all kinds of helpful for no reason at all," He spit the words out, the angriest she'd heard him since the bar where they'd met and it took all the nonchalance she had in her to work up a smirk.

"Don't get all wound up, Sawyer," she said. "It was a thought."

"Well," his hands turned on the wheel and the car slowed down. "Hold that thought. Here's your first screen test- gas station dead ahead."

On the Island

Desmond realized he would make more ground on his inventory of the island if he ran instead of walking, and so that's what he does every morning. He's run east today, and is standing folded over, catching his breath, his eyes shot wide open at what's in front of him: Row after row of neat, orange-yellow houses, people walking between them, chatting, laughing, barbequing, hanging out at picnic tables chatting.

It's only a few days since Kelvin's death, and a whole civilization within running distance of the hatch is almost too much to take.

Figuring out what to do with it would have to wait, though. He did the math and realized he barely had time to run back to the Swan hatch to enter the numbers. He turned, wondering how he could shave a few minutes off the trip when he heard it: the fast click, snick, and click of a rifle loading.

Desmond raised his hands, turned slowly toward the sound and jumped at the sight of her. She wasn't one of them, one of the people walking contentedly through the enclave he'd spotted. She was skinny, bruised, scratched from a thousand walks through the jungle. They wore uniforms, she wore tattered, drooping clothes that had seen too many washings. She looked worn, wiry and perfectly capable of shooting him dead if she wanted to.

"Where is Alex?" The woman asked, and Desmond shook his head hard.

"Ahh… I'm sorry, I dunno," He gestured behind them. "If you're thinking I'm one-a them, I'm not, I assure you…"

"You would say that, wouldn't you?" she wasn't exactly aiming the rifle at him, but she was making vague gestures like that might happen soon.

"Listen," Desmond started slowly away from her, lifted his hands in the air. "I have to get back to the hatch, enter the numbers, or we're all dead."

"Wrong answer," she said, raised her arm to take aim. Desmond knew running wasn't an option and so he dove at her first movement, knocking her off her feet. The gun hit the ground as they both fell and he came up with it, emptying it of its shells.

"Why didn't you shoot me?" she asked it from the ground, leaning up on her elbows. He'd have sworn she sounded almost disappointed.

"Because I need help," Desmond blurted it out, the honest misery in his voice obvious to anyone's ears. "I need a partner to help me push the damned button. Thought I'd try to find someone to trick into it, but it's hard to play coy when all you have is 108 minutes at a time and a damned small recruiting pool…"

"Button?" she asked.

"Come with me, please," Desmond turned. "I'll show you. And I promise: The things that are in that hatch which you obviously don't have to your name right now- it'll be worth your while."

He took off then, because whether she came with him or not he was out of time. Still, he was deeply relieved to hear footsteps behind him, picking up speed, running smoothly and matching his pace all the way back.

When they got to the Swan, he waited a beat and waved for her to follow him as he threw open the side door and barreled down the stairs. He was down the hall, through the kitchen and in the computer room before she'd even made it down the steps. Desmond hit the numbers, hit 'enter' and watched, listened as the clock flipped back. Then he turned to see her behind him, awestruck, and he was glad they'd made it before the alarms could go off and spook her even more.

"This place," her voice, already husky to his ear before, was deeper now in her disbelief. "It's a research station. Scientists built this. What were they studying?"

"I have some information about that, and an educated guess or two," Desmond said, "And I'll share them if you'll stay, help me, not shoot me or strangle me in my sleep," he still had the gun in his hands and he tossed it to his right as she locked eyes with him, nodding. "Great. This computer I'll explain in about a hundred minutes. Out here," he walked back to the kitchen, "We get food drops every two weeks…"

"Food?" The doubtful, anxious sound in her voice was almost heart breaking.

"Yes," Desmond grinned, "No more fish, papaya… good old-fashioned American over-processed boxed and canned food. Tons of calories. It'll do ya good…"

She followed him as he walked back further, pointed out the bunks, the bookshelves and her eyes got bigger with every step until….

"And this," he pointed to the bathroom, jumped a little when she tore past him, almost shrieking. "Is the bathroom."

She slammed the door and half a second later he heard the shower slam on full blast, heard her give a shout they probably noticed back at the yellow-orange bungalows.

"Okay, great, well, enjoy…" Desmond said. "I'll go make us some coffee…"

"Coffee?" She shouted that, too and Desmond chuckled to himself.

"Better shut up, you're going to give her a heart attack before she can be any help to you."

He heard the door open ever so slightly, saw her face, her hair already full of shampoo, peeking out.

"My name is Danielle. Danielle Rousseau," she reached a hand out and he went back, shook it.

"Desmond Hume. Nice to meet you Danielle…" he turned to the kitchen. "Milk and sugar in the coffee?"

"Oh my God no, black, please. As strong as you can make it."

"Coming up… one French press, no milk, no sugar, not much water..."

Route 66

Near Flagstaff

12:10pm

Kate's first attempt at separating someone from their money was a success. She and Sawyer walked out of the gas station separately, didn't talk until they got in the car and pulled away.

"So," she was trying not to gloat. "How'd I do?"

"You did well, kid," he clearly didn't want to give her too much credit but couldn't hide his smile. "Eighty bucks might not be much to write home about, but it'll buy us lunch and dinner, won't it?"

"Don't forget you owe me sixteen off the top before you start buying meals with the rest," she pointed out.

"I'll start a tab…" he said, only half kidding.

They both went silent as they heard a quick 'whoop whoop' sound behind them on the road, and Sawyer tilted the rear-view mirror, cursing softly under his breath.

"Party lights. Why is a local cop following us? It ain't because of eighty bucks, that's for sure."

He turned his head, saw Kate rigid in her seat, ashen, barely able to breathe.

"I saw him in the gas station," her voice was a whisper. "I thought he looked at me funny. Oh damn…oh no…."

"Don't panic," Sawyer had been easing them to the side of the road since the cop signaled, and he grabbed her wrist now, hard enough to hurt a little, to get her attention. "All you've got is your cool, so keep it, okay? You don't know what he wants 'til he tells us…"

Sawyer pressed the window release, squeezing Kate's hand hard now, gave the officer a nod as he walked up.

"I got a tail light out or something?" He asked it in the least confrontational voice possible, and watching Sawyer run the conversation calmed Kate enough to keep her from losing it as she saw the uniform, the badge in the window.

"No, there's no problem sir – didn't mean to alarm you, but the lady forgot her cell phone and a wallet in the store. You almost left a few hundred bucks on the counter."

He handed them through the window and Sawyer thanked him profusely.

"Any given day one or the other of us would leave our brains behind if they weren't strapped in good," he said and the cop laughed, waved, walked back to his car. "Thanks again."

Sawyer flipped the window back up fast.

"I hear you about to lose it over there," he muttered, waiting, waving for the officer to go first. "Hold on… don't blow it now…"

Then the cop car was gone and so was Kate, her head on her knees, sobbing. She felt Sawyer's hand running over her back, felt other vehicles passing, making their car shake as he kept rubbing, silent.

"This ain't about one cop or the guy who was chasing you, is it?" he asked eventually and she shook her head without lifting it.

"I've screwed up my life so bad…." She heard him laugh so hard it was nearly a shout.

"Girl, there is no way in hell you've screwed your life up as badly as I have mine," he said, stopped when she sat up, tears drying on her face, a hard smile challenging him.

"Want to bet?" she said and she saw surprise on his face.

"Think you'll feel better if we put a few hundred more miles between us and California today?" he asked and she nodded. "Great. Let's do that. And when we stop tonight… Kate, I think we have to talk."

Pacific Coast Highway

2:00 PM

"I had no idea how beautiful it is here," Claire watched the water out the far window as they drove back north, blissed out from two hours sitting at a table perched over the ocean. "I mean Sydney Harbor is amazing, but this…it just goes on forever."

They had talked and laughed and chilled out so much at lunch that she felt almost buzzed.

"I have to remind myself not to take it for granted," Jack said. "Do you think you'll stay? After the baby is born?"

"I haven't had time to think about it," Claire shrugged, her eyes still far away. "It's only a few days since I found out I can't go home right now even if I want to."

"What about an OB-GYN? Did yours go away with the non-existent adoptive couple?" Claire nodded. "Well, we have to fix that Monday. Come see me at the hospital- you want a good doc, believe me, you don't want to come rolling up to the ER to have this baby without one…"

"Thank you," Claire cut him off, her voice genuinely appreciative but also a warning.

Jack stopped, not sure what to say.

"Listen," Claire's hands were on her back, her belly again, more aware than ever of her situation. "If I sound cold or unappreciative sometimes… it's … I have these abandonment issues the size of a house, and I'm afraid…."

She stopped, hearing Jack laughing under his breath.

"What's so funny?"

"Welcome to the club, Claire," he said, "Our dad had kids half a world apart and we ended up with the same issues. Nature, you think, or nurture?"

"Aaaahh!" Claire shouted, and with all the baby talk Jack panicked for second until he saw her reach forward, cranking up the radio. "Train in Vain!"

"Are you serious?" he yelled over the music. "Aren't you a dozen years too young for The Clash? Or more?"

"Oh my God, if I were driving we'd be going a hundred miles an hour. C'mon, get this thing going…"

"No way in hell," he looked at the speedometer. "I'm already eight miles over the limit and you're extremely pregnant …"

"Fuddy," she yelled, dancing to the music, "…Duddy."

Jack laughed, eased the SUV past the only car in front of them and took off, hitting the gas, watching Claire's reaction as it went from roar of approval to a slightly terrified whoop. He eased off the gas and she gave him a happy punch in the arm.

"What did we get up to there?"

"Oh, 94ish," he said, watched her face fall as they heard the siren kick in behind them.

"You've got to be kidding me?" she asked, laughing hysterically as Jack pulled over and they prepared to enjoy one of the most scenic places in the world to get a ticket.

"Um… mind popping open the glove compartment?" Jack asked. "Registration's in there…"

Claire did, hand over her mouth, still laughing.

"So sorry…"

"You don't look it," he bit his lip as he reached for the paperwork, looking away, trying not to smile.

"I'll totally pay the fine…"

"I might just let you," he waved his wallet at her, pulled out his license.

"I'm sorry, I know this seems highly illogical but I have to tell you, this is the most fun I've had in months," she gasped, clearly on the edge of a laughing jag.

"You're very good at this 'little sister' thing," Jack rolled down the window. "You're going to get me in all kinds of trouble, aren't you?"

"Probably," Claire shrugged, biting back another bout of the giggles. "I'm afraid probably so."