Flashback
Jack leaned forward onto the table and let his head drop into his arms. His head throbbed in pain. He wasn't sure if it was from the rifle butt that they had used to end his mad dash for the exit or from dehydration. Either reason should have triggered warning bells, but he wasn't in a position to do anything about his own discomfort. Instead he had spent his energy trying to convince someone to help the bound man seated across from him. He had argued, chastised, pleaded until his voice had given out.
His face felt hot against his arm. The rustle of paper caught his attention and his eyes slid to his left. The Thai man with an affinity for wearing business suits sat a few steps away reading a newspaper. Today's suit was a light dove grey. Jack watched him turn a page. He seemed to be the only one in the room that spoke English. Behind him a dozen-armed men lingered along the wall. They came and went in shifts. Jack had lost count somewhere around 16. He guessed the number was somewhere around 23.
He didn't bother expending the energy to turn to see the old man seated in the carved chair behind him. He seemed the most intent on the stage that had been set. He didn't sleep, had food and drink brought to him, Jack could feel the man's weighted stare on him.
The suit reading the paper glanced at Jack and shook his head. Folding the paper in thirds he tucked it into his lap and turned to address Jack. "Why do you wait?" Jack stared back at him with heavily lidded eyes. The man shrugged. "You do not help him," he said pointing at the man across from Jack.
Jack turned his head to study the man bound to the chair. His head sagged forward against his chest. The ropes kept him upright against the chair back. His eyes had become sunken, his skin looked chalky, and Jack was doing his best not to think about the consequences of being denied access to a toilet. "He will die of dehydration soon, I think. Is this your decision?"
Jack turned his head and let it rest against his arm. His mouth was dry. It was difficult to form words around his swollen tongue. "What happens when one of us dies?"
The man shrugged, "The balance of one soul will have been paid to the dead. The living will keep the other." Jack forced himself to ask what it meant that the living would keep the other. "We will take the other to a hospital," the suit replied. Jack laughed in disbelief, he couldn't help himself. How was taking one of them to the hospital to be treated by a physician any different than what he had done to heal this "son" that had somehow caused the world of the dead to be one short. The Thai man looked at him in concern. "You are not well, why do you prolong this? Do you not choose who lives and who dies in the operating room? How can this be different?"
Jack opened his mouth to answer when the man across from him convulsed in a dry heave. Jack jumped up on reflex. He reached the man's side before he was physically forced back to his chair. "This man needs help!" Jack rasped, struggling against the hands holding him down. "He needs fluids!" The man in the suit grabbed the gun from the table and shoved it into Jack's hand. "Time to choose!" He demanded.
Jack twisted away from the hands and stared at the weapon. His mechanism to deal with fear kicked in, the timer counting down from 5. His mind raced. He wondered how many bullets were in the gun. How many of these men, standing there allowing this terrible thing to happen, could he shoot before he would be killed? Jack had already proven his aim was true. But what would he gain? A few years in therapy to overcome the persistent nightmares?
Revenge would only hurt more people; he wanted to save life, this life. Jack ground the heels of his palms into his temples. He felt dizzy. The sound of dry heaving made his stomach squirm uncomfortably. Raising his head, the room seemed to spin. His five seconds were up. He needed to choose; the man across from him was dying. How far would he go to save a stranger's life? Hefting the weight of the gun Jack looked at the man dying across from him. According to his father he didn't have what it took, but could he amount to something if he failed while trying rather than failing to try. He shoved the gun muzzle beneath his chin. The whole room went still. The elder stood from his throne. Jack pulled the trigger.
Jack sagged against the cool wall of a supply cabinet trying to catch his breath. Each breath hurt. Through the cracked door he could see the red glow of the exit sign at the end of the hall. The overhead sirens wailed. Everyone in the complex had to know he had escaped. He was so close. A few dozen strides and he would be through the door. Free to get back to the beach to organize a return rescue party. A pair of security had raced past his hiding spot a few moments ago, but now the hallway was empty. Sayid would know how to free Kate and Sawyer, but Jack continued to hesitate.
He pressed his temple against the smooth white paint of the wall. He couldn't say if he was seeking relief from the fevered heat radiating off his skin or the image of Kate and Sawyer's intimate embrace. The right thing to do was to go get help. Jack knew that's what he was supposed to do. This was the chance he had been given, to return to the beach where people needed his skill set. If he could just stop second guessing his options and act.
But he couldn't stop block out the sight of Kate kissing Sawyer. It shouldn't be affecting him this much. He had heard Kate tell Sawyer she loved him. He had mentioned it to Sawyer in a rare moment of confidence before setting out to rescue Walt. Jack wondered if he wasn't trying to escape the others, but escaping the fact that Kate didn't return his feelings. He clenched his eyes shut. The soft scuff noise of a dress shoe against the tile floor forced Jack back to reality. Across from him, hidden in the shadows stood the Thai elder responsible for Jack's tattoos. His dark eyes stared without blinking. He stood straight, without the normal bend or sagging some one of his age would normally have. Jack clutched the wall behind him, this shouldn't be happening. He felt pinned beneath the old man's stare like a display insect. Jack's eye was caught by the dark ink on his shoulder, a label. The Asian characters were part of a poem, the line read, "Eagles high up cleaving the space".
The elder's dark eyes forced Jack back to the moment. He had woken up in his hotel bed; the skin on his shoulders burning and the bed sheets blushed from the weeping ink marks. He tried to remember more, but he couldn't seem to move past feeling the muzzle of the gun shudder as the hammer clicked. A note had been left for him. This gift of life repays our debt. It wasn't enough to stop Jack from dwelling on whether the other man was alive or dead. He wondered out into the heat of the day disoriented. The whole sequence of events lost in shock. Someone, a young girl, touched his shoulder and everything had snapped back into focus. Jack jumped up from a chair he didn't remember sitting in. The girl stared up at him, her eyes huge with awe. Her mother scrambled forward squawking in reprimand until she noticed the fresh tattoos. Turns out eagles cleaving space tattooed to his arm was a judgement on Jack's character, praise from a culture Jack didn't understand.
Jack stared at the apparition standing in the closet beside him. The elder's mouth moved, speaking to Jack, but there was no sound. He didn't understand the poem completely. But the eagles where something honored that moved through the enormity of the sky under their own direction. What it had meant to Jack was a lot of unwanted attention. Whispering behind his back, expectant looks, the occasional touch. He had resorted to keeping the tattoos covered.
When the summon had come that he was needed at home he hadn't given much of a fight.
Jack wiped at the sweat on his brow. Was he seeing things because of the fever? Wrapped in the shadows of the supply closet, the elder watched and waited. Jack moved away from the elder toward the door. Jack stepped into the deserted hallway. He knew he should go get help; he stood close enough for the light of the exit sign to play off his skin. But he had to know. He simply didn't have faith that everything would turn out ok. He had to know that Kate was safe. Know that she was happy even if that was with Sawyer. Jack cursed himself and pushed off the wall in the opposite direction.
"NO!" Henry yelled at the computer monitor. He slammed his fist into the keyboard, "NO, no, no," he yelled beating at the keyboard while the computer beeped in protest. He whipped around to face the technician, "What happened?" He turned to glare at Meg, Bea, and Tom who stood behind him. "What the hell happened!" Henry growled, "He was right there! The exit was right there! Why didn't he go through the door! Damnit!" Henry turned back to the technician. "Find out where he went. I want Shepherd dragged in here in the next ten minutes or people are going to start losing their jobs." Henry turned to glare at Meg, Bea, and Tom, "Go!" he yelled. They hurried out of the room.
Kate ran her fingernail down the crack between the huge mirrored panels. It went smoothly and she quickly moved on to the next divider. At the other end of the room Sawyer worked his way down the other direction. The room had gone dark the moment the sirens had started. The lack of light made identifying the hidden door difficult. Her nail caught on something and she quickly fished the key from where she had hidden it. She fumbled the key against the opening of the lock and it fell to the floor. Dropping to her knees she frantically patted the cement looking for the key. "Any Luck?" Sawyer called from the darkness. "I dropped the key," she confessed. Sawyer cursed and moved towards her voice. "Good going Butterfinger," He griped dropping down beside her. "Did you find the lock?" Kate nodded focused on finding the key. "You better be nodding," he growled, his finders blundering into hers. "How are we going to find Jack?" Kate asked. "Freedom first, freckles," Sawyer growled. Sawyer found the key and turned to the mirror smooth wall. "Got it, which one?"
"Here," Kate called. Sawyer followed her arm to the intersection. The fit was tight, but Sawyer managed to persuade a fit. The panel popped forward emitting a crack of light into the room. Grabbing Kate's hand Sawyer pulled her with him into the hall. He led her to the right at a run.