Happy New Year guys.

Fortunately, I don't have what you would call an active social life, so instead of going out and getting drunk last night, I finished two new chapters for you.

In chapter 11, you'll finally get the confrontation between Jack and Sawyer you've all been waiting for (especially you NYR88!). Although, hopefully, you'll see that even though he's handling it wrongly, Sawyer really does love Kate. That's why it kills him to see her pining over Jack when he's standing right in front of her, ready to make a commitment. And ultimately, that's why he'll have to let her go. Because the story is written from Jack's P.O.V, though, we only get to see the side he sees, which is the rampaging Neanderthal.

Read, review, make whatever comments your hearts desire (so long as they're not mean, which I have to admit, I've been pretty fortunate about). I'm particularly interested to know what you think of my hooks. I try to give the last line(s) of each chapter resonance, so let me know if you think I'm achieving that. Oh, and I've enabled anonymous reviews. Thank you for suggesting that mikachoo. And yes, the police officer is supposed to be Ana.

Chapter 10. Thank You

It was nearly morning by the time they both fell asleep. Jack woke again just before ten, sitting up to find Kate curled on her side in the bed, her hair falling over the bandage on her cheek, breathing deeply. She looked so peaceful, so angelic, that he would have been content to sit beside her, watching her sleep for a while longer, but she had to start work soon, and he still had to take her home to get changed.

So much for not sleeping well in strange beds, he thought, wondering if, by some miracle, his presence made a difference. He liked to think that she felt safe with him, and maybe she did, if she was willing to let her guard down in front of him after everything that had happened to her.

He was just trying to figure out the best way to wake her up without scaring her, when she opened her eyes, looking confused at first, coming face to face with him. But then she smiled, remembering where she was. "Hi."

"Hi," he said, returning her grin.

She sat up, glancing at the clock, her whole demeanour changing from sleepy and relaxed, to wide-awake and on edge, when she saw what time it was. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" She jumped out of bed, rushing to the bathroom to retrieve her clothes.

"I only just woke up myself," Jack called out to her, pulling a pair of jeans on over his boxer shorts. "It wasn't my idea to play truth or dare at two o'clock in the morning."

She came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, as he was changing his shirt. "That's because you're an old man. You always were, even when we were kids." Her expression didn't change, but he couldn't help noticing the way her eyes travelled over his biceps, lingering on the muscles in his chest for longer than would normally be considered polite.

She snapped out of it as he pulled a clean shirt over his head, saying bashfully, "I don't have my car."

He smiled to himself, realising that she'd walked halfway across town in the rain to find him, in the middle of the night. If that wasn't a sign that she still trusted him, he didn't know what was. He decided not to make a big deal of it, though, at the risk of embarrassing, or offending her. "That's okay," he told her, tucking his wallet into his back pocket, and picking his keys up off the nightstand. "I'll drive you. If we hurry, we can still make it to the diner on time."

He didn't mention that he wanted to be there in the case of another run in with James, but by the way she nodded, following him silently to the car, he could tell that she knew this, and that she was grateful for his support.

"He won't be there," she said as she buckled herself into the passenger seat. "He works in construction, so he's usually gone when I get up."

She was probably right, but Jack didn't want to take that chance, so he followed her into the house, taking the opportunity to see how she was living now.

Her new place wasn't too different to the one she'd lived in with her mother and Wayne; it was small and cheap, but cleaner, free of the stink of whiskey that had hung in the air even when her father wasn't home.

While she went into the bedroom, Jack waited in the kitchen, studying the handful of photographs Kate had pinned to the fridge with tacky dime store magnets. There was one of her mother, Diane, and a few of her and James with people he figured were friends, but the one that interested him the most was from what must have been their senior prom, almost fifteen years ago now. She was wearing a green dress that brought out the colour in her eyes, her arms around James's neck as he stared into down into them. She wasn't looking at him, though, her gaze fixed on something a little to his left.

Jack couldn't help thinking that it summed up the little he knew about their relationship, or wondering what it would have been like to share that night with her, the way James had. He couldn't even remember the name of the girl he'd taken to his own prom in L.A. He hadn't seen her since high school; they hadn't even been dating.

He was still staring at it when Kate re-entered the kitchen, dressed for work now, and carrying a cardboard box. "I spent months saving for that dress," she said sadly. "I wish you could have seen it." She put the box on the table in front of him. "These are yours, or at least, they should be."

Jack looked at her questioningly, opening the lid at her behest. Inside were the letters she'd written to him, addressed, but never sent. "Thank you, Kate," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. She wasn't lying when she said she hadn't forgotten him; he was pretty sure that there were more here than in the bundle she'd showed him last night.

"You're welcome," she whispered, looking away before they both got too emotional.

Following her lead, he sealed up the box, carrying it out to the car. She was almost half an hour late by then, but she didn't really seem to care.