A/N: Whew! It's been a long time since I updated, I'm very sorry for the delay, our computer got a virus (nice Christmas present, right?) and was in the shop for the most part of January, so I never got a chance to work on the next chapter. We finally got everything back, but what the guy did was he restored the entire computer, so I lost all my files and things like that. Nerve-racking, yes. I got stuck with frustration and writers block and almost gave up on this story because of Lost and stupid Sawyer coming back to ruin everything, but then Sawyer acted like a jerk and I got excited so I started writing again. The next chapter should be up within a day or so, I'm too lazy to get it right now, but it should be up soon. BTW, according to the oceanic-air site, Flight 815 left on September 22, and since the show started on this date in 2004, I calculated dates and stuff, and since Kate came back to Jack around January 2006 in this story, and based on the dates and stuff, it should be...February 11th/12th now. So Valentine's Day is coming up, and you can rest assured something special is planned :) Okay, enough from me. Enjoy the story!

KATE

After, when Jack had fallen asleep, Kate examined his features by the light of the moon. He looked younger while he slept, as though while he slept, the heavy weight on his shoulders disappeared. She reached out to touch his cheek; she liked it when he kept his beard trimmed to stubble. It reminded her of Island Jack. Even now, two years later, something about him looking rugged reminded her of the way he was on the island. As funny as it sounded, even to her, something about his stubble comforted her. And of course, she also liked the way it felt against her cheek…

When he turned over, the moon shone on his shirtless back. Kate's eyes caught sight of the long scar on his back. She smiled to herself, remembering the day more than two years ago, when she'd stumbled upon the shirtless stranger kneeling on the beach inspecting a long gash on his back. How he asked her to sew it up for him because he couldn't reach it, and she almost couldn't go through with it, so intense was her fear. How she noted he wasn't afraid at all, and how he taught her about fear and how to control it. And then, later, hiding from that—thing how she'd taken his advice. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. And it was gone.

Her fingers touched the scar lightly. It felt rough, like a war wound. He shifted in his sleep, as if it was still painful after two years. Two years—had it really been that long? She turned her head slightly to look out of the bedroom window. She imagined Claire and baby Aaron. He was two now, and hadn't Jack said that she and Charlie were married, that they were having a baby together soon?

Absently, Kate put her hand on her own bare stomach, wondering vaguely what it would be like to be pregnant. Her biological clock was ticking and her mouth formed a sanguine smile at the thought of it. This certainly wasn't like her—and maybe Jack was right, maybe she was changing, and for the better. Still, she wasn't sure if she was ready yet. She and Jack had only just reunited. Maybe, if we're still in love in two years, she thought, we can get married and do it right. She'd seen him sometimes, watching Aaron back on the island. Claire had asked often if he wanted to hold Aaron, and Jack would have that strange longing look in his eyes, then shake his head and hurry back to the caves, or busy himself with something else.

When she felt Jack's lips brush her shoulder, Kate nearly jumped. She snapped her head quickly to face him. His eyes were open, watching her curiously.

"Cold? Can't sleep?" He asked, his voice thick with fatigue. She nodded; shivering a little, she was glad at least for the thick comforter and the warm sweatpants she'd taken from Jack's dresser. "How can you tell?"

"Shoulder's got goose bumps." His eyes flickered for a moment, and he yawned. "What're you thinking about?"

"Babies," she said flatly. It slipped out, really. She was glad he couldn't see her cheeks blushing crimson in the darkness.

He drifted into sleep. "We'll get some later if you want…"

She felt reassured. Yawning herself, she cuddled against him and fell asleep.

---
After what had happened that night, there was now a new unspoken rule between them. They were as close to dating, without either of them actually mentioning it. Before, she had been biding her time, letting herself heal up before she moved on, started running again. Now, though, all she could think about was Jack, Jack, Jack. He was on her mind constantly, and she couldn't help wanting to be with him all the time. And anything would set them off. Two days later, the day before Valentine's Day, she was trying to bake a cake. She stood, anxiously in front of the oven, holding the oven timer when he came up behind her, put his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. The timer clattered to the floor, she turned, her body pressed against his, and kissed him back. They went on like this for some time and they would have ended up back in the bedroom if Jack hadn't smelled the burning cake and gone off to prevent his house from catching on fire. Kate sighed.

She woke up the next morning to the sun shining bright into the room. Jack was in the shower—she could hear the water making the plink-plink noises from the bed. She looked up at the clock on the bedside table, which read 8:41 and yawned. Her back hurt, and she was still tired. They'd stayed up all night watching movies, falling asleep over each other in the den until Jack had dragged her off to bed at three in the morning. She started to drift back into slumber when she noticed the vase on the bedside table, full of long-stemmed roses, and the pink envelope propped against it. Without intention, her eyes were full of tears. She had never gotten something so nice for Valentine's Day, not even from Tom, who, she had to admit to herself, couldn't see anything but the tomboy in her into it was too late.

She reached for the envelope, gently ripping the edge and pulling out the card. A slip of paper fluttered into her lap, and she left it there until she could read the card:

Kate,

I'm glad you're here with me. You picked the right time to come. I have to work this morning, but I'll make it up to you tonight, we'll go out to eat and then we can come home and I'll see if I get my fireplace working. No promises on that one.

With all my love,
Jack

Kate felt funny inside, a rush of emotions going through her brain all at once. She felt a stab of guilt mixed in; she'd forgotten his card. She hadn't really done much of anything for today. He had done so much for her, and there was a drug store not even a mile up the road, and she hadn't even thought to walk up there. His was charming, albeit short, but she didn't care and she had to get him something too. She set the card back on the bureau and reached under her knee for the little strip of paper, reading:

I know you like riddles, so I made up this one.
It's a rhyming game, full of Valentine's fun.

Kate paused. That didn't sound like much of a rhyme. Well, she thought, at least he's trying, that's more than you can say for a certain other person.

I'll make things easy by starting in the front hall
Look for something round and small,
A bunch of them, shaped like a ball.

"Oh, Jack." She said aloud, groaning at the slight hint of lameness in his abilities of rhyme. There was no use pointing out to him that all balls were round, with the exception of maybe a football. But he was doing his best, and a scavenger hunt sounded fun. She yawned again and pulled on the robe he'd given her and started down the hall. She saw on one of the tables in the hallway, a little basket filled with tiny, round soap cakes, wrapped in fancy paper. She hadn't noticed them before; tearing the paper from one of the soaps, she caught a hint of lavender; another, lilac. She could have stood there, smelling each of the soaps, and there were at least ten more in the basket, but she saw the small strip of paper sticking out of the top, and took it:

This one was easy, but the next won't be so
A delicious pastry will tell you where you ought to go.
Your sight won't help; Always follow your nose!

"What?" She said it aloud, without meaning to. A delicious pastry? Follow your nose? She could only think of the kitchen, and she had burnt the cake last night. She shrugged, and wandered into the kitchen, and as she went, her nose was instantly hit with the smell of baked apples. She felt like she was in heaven. She'd never told him, and she didn't know how he knew that she loved baked apples. Her nose led her to the oven, and she opened the door, but nothing was there. She went back towards the hall, and the smell faded. Strange, she thought. She went towards the other door, the one leading to the dining room, and the apples filled her nose with bliss. An apple pie sat cooling on top of a glass platter on the table. It looked store-bought, but she knew he was horrible at baking, so it was probably all the best. Resting underneath the glass dish, a small slip of paper.

I give up, you're too smart, so this is the last of the three.
The thing you're looking for, tied to the branch of a tree.
This is the hardest, look with all your might.
Be wary: you may have to take flight.
Mind the birds in the clouds, and soon you will find
What you seek: But beware of the chime!
By the way, don't worry at all—
There is no risk that you'll fall!
But keep a sharp eye; what you seek is quite small!

So he was clever after all. She shook her head. "Tied to the branch of a tree." She repeated it to herself over and over. A tree…and what did he mean, "you may have to take flight?" She was confused now. Beware of the chime. There were at least five trees in Jack's yard alone, and none of them would be easily climbable. Two of them were still small, and the others were inaccessible unless you happened to be twelve feet tall. A ladder might help…but she still didn't know which tree, and exactly what she was looking for. And it said that she wouldn't be in any danger of falling, which wasn't true of these trees. She pulled out the chair from the table and stared hard at the note. Minutes passed and she grew more angry and frustrated. From in the den, Jack's grandfather clocked began its music, and then chimed to let her know it was nine o'clock.

She stopped. Beware of the chime…The clock! She raced into the den, skidding to a halt in front of the tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It was an old clock, maple brown, with a new finish to it. Jack had told her it belonged to his great-grandparents—his mother's grandparents—and they brought it with them when they came from Germany.

Carved into the intricate designs on the clock's face twelve different birds, fluttering on white clouds, that represented each number. Now, it was the sparrow and the mockingbird; mockingbird o'clock Jack had told her that he used to say when he was little. Kate's eyes drifted up to the top, where at great maple tree crowned the clock's peak. And there, tied to one of the branches, was a tiny packet. Kate had to drag a chair to the clock to reach it; there was no way she was going to jump up to try and grab it, and risk damaging an expensive antique, especially when it was a family heirloom.

She carefully untied the small package and stepped down from the chair. In black ink on the envelope was two short lines. As soon as she read it, she realised it was no riddle:

Take as long as you want to make up your mind.
I can wait for eternity if I need to (but don't make me.)

What was that supposed to mean? She wondered. She sat on the chair, tore the top of the envelope and shook out the contents. A small ring rolled into her hand. Kate stared.

"Oh God," she said under her breath. "Oh God. Oh Jack." She slumped slightly in the chair, shocked. A noise behind her make her start and she stood up and whirled around. At the doorway, one hand leaning on the frame, dressed in his uniform, watching her with interest, hair still damp from the shower, plastered to his head and the side of his face, the way Kate liked it, his trimmed stubble, soft eyes, kind smile. He was just there, watching her.

She got up; the ring clenched firmly in her left hand, and went to him. Her free hand took one of his, placed the ring in it. He looked at her, puzzled, until she held out her hand for him, and he understood and slipped the ring on her finger. They said nothing; they didn't have to. Their lips met, they kissed. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and tucked her head under his chin. She peered at the ring on her hand behind his back, wondering. It had happened so fast…She wasn't sure what made her say yes so quickly. A part of her wanted to stop, to think about it first, but now it was too late. But it was only a small part. The rest of her was caught up in Jack's arms, not wanting to let go, afraid of what would happen if she did. He pulled back first, muttering about having to go, he'd be late for work. She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and she didn't even know what she was crying for. They parted, like lovers in a film after making a love pledge, and then going off to death. It was different, though. They had made the pledge, but the way Kate saw it, instead of heading for death, they were heading for a new life.