Ben knocked hesitatingly on the large wooden door. He hadn't been sure he even wanted to go there, but he was vulnerable, needy even. He swallowed. His resolve hardened with every knock on the heavy door. Finally, it opened, and the face he had been dreaming about peered angrily from the hallway at him.

"Hello, Ben," said Kate, through pursed lips. Ben was bewildered. Yes, he had left her too quickly the last time they had seen each other, but that was why he was here – to offer an apology. This simmering rage seemed like an overly sensitive reaction.

"Hello, Kate," he returned. They both stood there, facing each other awkwardly, Kate with open hostility, Ben with pure confusion.

"I wanted to come over and apologize," he began, his voice unforgivably shaky. "May I come in?"

Kate jutted her lower jaw out. Ben's look of nonchalance faltered, and he grimaced. He knew all too well what that look meant.

"No, you may not," she spat at him. His eyes widened.

"No, I may not?" he echoed disbelievingly. "Kate, Kate, I know I treated you abominably the last time we saw each other, but I was hoping you could forgive me if I came to you with an apology."

Kate snorted contemptuously.

"You really think that was the first time some douchebag with a dick has cut and run as quick as he could? Please. I'm not as innocent as you think." Ben flushed at her colorful choice of words. He felt like a cad, and, worse, she thought of him as such. He felt cheap and dirty and selfish, and he hated it. He hung his head, barely daring to glance up at her as he asked his next question.

"So why won't you let me in, Kate?"

She shifted her jaw dangerously further out.

"I don't want murderers around my child."

It was Ben's turn to give a contemptuous snort.

"Excuse me?"

"I know what you did to that reporter – Sayid told me," Kate hissed, eyes hard.

"Oh, and I suppose what I did is so very different from what you did, Kate, killing your stepfather, who was possibly your own father, that I deserve to be ostracized. I see," Ben shot back at her. She stepped forward in a quick, threatening movement, but he didn't flinch.

"I killed him because he hurt someone I cared about."

Their eyes locked, both seething with rage and hurt. Suddenly, Ben smiled, wistful and distant.

"You've never seen it, have you, Kate?" he asked, shaking his head sadly. "We're much more alike than you think."

With that, he turned on his heels and marched toward his car. Kate followed his movements warily, scowling. Just as suddenly, she started after him, her hands jerking impulsively at her sides as she barreled at Ben.

"What exactly does that mean?" Kate's question exploded at him in a burst of visible anger. He coldly turned to face her. She growled. "Don't you put that mask back on, goddammit!"

Ben simply raised one eyebrow, silently informing her that her antics got her nowhere and were not appreciated. It gave him a certain sick satisfaction to see her frustration mounting. It crossed his mind, fleetingly, that so it always seemed to be. Giving a strangled cry, Kate raised her fists to deal a power blow. With a deft, lightening-quick movement, Ben grabbed her wrists, spun her around, and pinned her against him. She struggled under his grip but could not wriggle an inch from his vice-like hands. He waited patiently until her breathing laboriously slowed. Then, he leaned imperceptibly in, breathing in the scent of her hair. She shivered, but she could not have said why.

"I think we both know the answer to that, Kate." Suddenly, he dropped her wrists and climbed into his car, and with a blasé expression waved good-bye. She stood there for a minute, like a boxer tensed for the sound of the bell. Then, her son's voice floated to her from the house, and she brushed the tears out of the corners of her eyes as she left Kate behind and returned to her life as mother.