James has fallen asleep beside me. I wish that I could sleep as soundly, but I can't. I can't believe what I've just done, and with Clementine in the other room. I wonder what James will feel when he wakes up. Will he feel like he betrayed Juliet? I don't necessarily feel like I've betrayed Boone. More like I wish the man beside me was Boone.

If this has taught me anything, I realize now that I do not love James, and I never will. He is my best friend, but nothing more.

And I know now that I can't marry him.

But I can't leave him.

I sit up and do my best to sneak out of the bed without waking him. In my living room, everything still looks the same. James's jacket is strewn across the chair. I walk into the kitchen and the dustbin I sat on the counter is still there. I step on something and reach down. It's a cheerio, one that Clementine dropped. I open the cabinet and pull out the box containing the remaining cherrios and pour myself a bowl, returning to the living room to sit.

On the coffee table is the letter from Hurley. I munch on my cereal as I stare at the letter. I want to go back to the Island. But I don't want to stay. I remember how Hurley had a conversation with Michael's ghost. What if Boone is still on the Island? What if Juliet is too? Or Jack and Charlie? Maybe all of us that are off the Island need to help the ones who may not be able to move on. Those damn whispers. That's what they were.

And I gave Boone his necklace back.

James comes out of the room about an hour later. "Why'd you leave?" he asks me, then notices the letter beside my computer, Google Maps pulled open to the location of a church. One I've only been to once. "The hell are you doin', Brown Eyes?"

I take a deep breath. "Could you sit down?" I ask.

"No, tell me what you're doin'," he demands. "You trying to get back to that damn rock?"

"James, please sit down. I don't think you understand."

He looks at me with frustration before sitting in the chair on the other side of the room, distancing himself. "I am gonna try to get back to the Island, but not for the reasons you think. There was this night, the night we came to Locke's camp two days before we left. Hurley talked to Michael."

James's eyes flash. "Mike's dead. He died on that freighter."

"I know. But if Hurley can talk to him, maybe he could talk to Boone."

He pauses for a minute before talking. "I thought that you would want to stay now. What about Ji Yeon?"

"Boone's not the only person I need to talk to," I say. "Kate's right. I need to know what Sun really wanted."

"What about me?"

And there it is. I knew he wouldn't let me leave without this conversation. "James—,"

"I understand that this is something you need to do, Tia. But the fact that you would just screw me and then take off—,"

"It's not like that," I try to explain, walking over to him. "I'll be back, I promise. And we'll get you shared custody of Clem, together."

"What will I do in the meantime?"

"Tell Cassidy that I'm on an internship in New York. She won't question it. I'm coming back James. I promise."

It takes me forever to find that damn church. I had to retrace the car ride I had with Ben just under a year ago from the pier. When I do find the church, it takes me a minute to muster up the courage I need to do what needs to be done.

I walk inside. Last time I was here there were hundreds of candles lit around the sanctuary. Eloise Hawking stood at the front of the room, but there's no one there now. No candles, no Eloise. It's just a large, dark, cold room.

I walk through the door leading to a staircase. At the bottom of the stairs is the DHARMA logo for the Lamp Post station. Behind it, I can hear the swoosh of the pendulum. If Eloise isn't here, someone is.

I turn the knob and walk into the dimly lit room. The pendulum over the giant map swings, making lines on the globe. Computers still print out tons of numbers. And over at Eloise's desk…

"Richard?" I ask, thoroughly confused.

He jumps up from his chair, startled. "Tia? What the hell are you doing here?"

He looks different than the last time I saw him. It's only been five months, but already his hair has dozens of silver flecks. His eyes are now home to crow's feet and he has a large amount of scruff, not quite a beard. "I need to talk to Hugo," I tell Richard. "Is there a way I can contact him?"