Life Interrupted
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen: Graveyard Shift
Thud. Thud. That was the sound of the shovel hitting the frozen ground, like a hand banging against a door. A bad-guy determined to break through as a victim hides or the opposite: someone desperately reaching out to someone inside a locked room. The jungle earth was no place to be buried, no place to be attempting to break through. Again came thoughts of the unimaginable construction of the six hatches of the island. There were too many trees, too much darkness. They'd never find the grave again. He felt guilty, he felt sick, as he thought of how they'd found the place, knowing no one would know what they did. Hoping they wouldn't. They were afraid when they weren't the ones about to be placed in the ground, buried in a grave lost amongst trees on an island that they themselves built. Without their friends or loved ones. Without a single thought given to their past. The least Jack could do was to offer his guilt. There was so much they didn't understand about the island, and wasn't it possible that this man had been shot dead for no reason whatsover? Kate's single, doubtless, reflex and his careless mistake had cost the life of this man. Death was so final, and if there was any ounce of uncertainty, any chance that this man deserved a second chance or even a moment's time of consideration, it should be taken.
He had to stop. Grasping the shovel with one shaking hand, Jack raised the other to his forehead. Sweat pierced his skin like dozens of tiny particles of rain as held his fingers against his forehead, like he was trying to block out an irritating headache. But the thoughts remained and not far from him Kate continued to dig the grave, the pounding of the shovel against the earth sounding as though it was still coming from his own actions.
"We've got to keep digging," Kate told him. There was hardly a trace of sympathy, no sign that she had given the slightest thought as to why Jack had stopped. Face straight and hard with determination, Kate did what she had ordered him to do and kept digging. Dirt flew behind her in waves of unsympathetic ruin. Soon that same pile of earth building behind them would cover the body of the man they had just murdered. He couldn't understand any of it. He couldn't fathom how they could be standing here now, and after so many days of that stinging silence between them, that they could be burying the body of a dead, murdered, man. And Kate didn't even want to talk. Of all the times, after so many times he had ignored her hints of conversation she had become a mute. The only words she had offered him had been to keep digging, an order to complete the grave.
"You say that like you've buried someone you've murdered before," Jack accused, his voice uncharacteristically cold. Or at least he'd liked to think so. She didn't answer him. Her determination was seemed so effortless, as her shovel struck the ground consistently, throwing away handfuls of earth. Yet he had enough awareness in the world left in him to recognize her emotion and to spot as words that came from his mouth seem to have disturbed her. That was what it felt like, that there was no one else in the world accept for him. It wasn't selfish but a surreal emotion. He couldn't understand how, elsewhere, families were living normal lives with the people they loved. So their presence dissolved from his mind. Now he lived in his own world, where right now the only event taking place was standing here, at the beginnings of a grave, and in that time he allowed for Kate to enter this planet he was trapped in.
She never answered him. She ignored him, as he had done to her so many time. Karma was so cruel. He wished he could take it all back now, and busied himself by going back and retelling his story as though he and Kate had never fought. As though he had actually listened to her when she tried to explain herself. How much of what had happened would have never exists? Perhaps fate wouldn't have seen them as two people with no reason to be together, and they would have never been separated during those nine months. They would not be here, right now, because he would have never been singled out as a victim to the Others and they would have never wanted to come back looking for him. They had never gone back to look for Kate. But as the constant whip of Kate's shovel echoed closer and closer to his conscious mind he was reminded that this was his reality; and really, he didn't want an answer. He didn't want to know if Kate had ever killed someone before. He wanted all of it to go away, to become aware of the world again. He wanted this stream of unfair and cruel events to stop. He wanted to be apart of the world, for there to be some kind of hope.
Thud. Thud.
But there wasn't. He grabbed his head as though he wished to rip it off, to disfigure himself and not have a mind, to not think. But he was just hoping for a break, for the world to pause and for all of this ridiculous cruelty to end. With a cry of frustration he threw himself backwards, stumbling until he was stopped by a tree, because there were always trees in the way in the jungle. He was tired of jungle. He wanted to see cities and lights...bridges and the constant movement of life. He wanted his job back, to be able to work as a group and not as a super-hero the world was depended upon. He wanted to be able to travel by car or by a plane that wouldn't crash. The island was so intimidating, standing strong like it was something important. Like it didn't know that all these things were happen and there still wasn't a reason.
"Someone's going to hear you!" Kate hissed. Finally, some emotion. Her eyes darkened into a fiery glare, at last changing from its coldness. She actually made an effort to turn to him, though angry. He even felt as though she realized something was wrong, that something just wasn't right.
"I don't care!" He heard his voice echo through the jungle and even grinned as he embraced the sound. He didn't want to follow Kate's orders and act like nothing was wrong, like someone wasn't dead. "I'm tired, Kate. I'm tired of everything that's been happening! The kidnappings, the death, the graves...everything that has happened to us so fast like it doesn't even matter! And each time we're just supposed to move on...I'm tired of moving on. I'm tired of being afraid and...hiding." He stared at her, offering her a chance to jump in and agree. He waited, ignoring the silence that past between them, hoping it would only lead to her voice. But she only stared back him, glaring at him like what he just said was so impossibly wrong, like she didn't care about any of that: healing or emotions or closure. Like nothing mattered now except pain and moving on. But there had to be an end to this...this was no way to live, not in real life, not in memory of those they'd lost. That they couldn't save. "I just...I want to know why this is happening. Why it has to happen to us. I...I never did anything wrong. I didn't turn out like my father...I had a career and...everything just fell apart. And I know you didn't ask for this."
Still she only stared at him. He had said nothing too detailed, or so thought, and he just hoped that she would understand and agree. He didn't see why she wouldn't...he didn't understand why she wasn't saying anything. Even words of comfort. Anything. He just wished he'd say something to reassure him that she wasn't pleased about the murder, about what all of them had turned into- angry, vengeful castaways. He understood their anger, at least, but to take it to such a level, to turn into this kind of person...
"If you're sick of what has happened then you shouldn't care," Kate replied, her voice cold and very unreassuring. She spoke slowly, as though she still couldn't believe he hadn't caught on to her philosophy.
Jack was so disgusted that he had to turn away. Yeah, he was angry. But somehow murder didn't satisfy him. He didn't' feel anything like that from Zander being dead. He felt nothing but guilt and regret. Disgust and self-hatred. That image of seeing Kate so determined...the perfect shot that effortlessly and so flawlessly pierced Zander's chest. Kate's reaction- no reaction because there hadn't been time- but now he could guess...she wouldn't have cared. Maybe she would have fired again. She bore such hidden satisfaction after the first shot...he could see this but she had kept calm. The vision, the memory, left him so confused and so disturbed that he wasn't what to think. He didn't even want to talk to her anymore. He wanted...he wanted to be away from here. Part of him even wanted to go back to the Others and explain what happened. Beg for mercy. But he couldn't be happy. He couldn't feel reassured and not even ashamed.
"I know it's hard for you to understand, Jack," and to think he had hoped so desperately to hear her speak to him, "but you just have to know-"
"Have to know what?" Jack said, and then, shouting: "That all this time you've been plotting revenge. Waiting for just the right moment, training yourself to not even blink or react or care?"
"What do you think I've been doing?" Kate cried. She looked as shaken as he did, but he was confused...she'd planned this, and he almost felt as though her feeling so fragile wasn't right...that she didn't deserve to be afraid. He was just so angry...so confused... "I'm sorry Jack, but we don't hold people captive anymore. We don't wait around for answers, because we know the answers. They're bad people and they want to hurt us. And how dare you think that I was just going to let him waltz in here and take you again!"
So this had all been for him. Or for the protection of all of them. Jack shook his head...he still didn't understand how this was possible...why they had to become murders. Saving people was saving people...there was no bargaining. In fact, he had sworn an oath to protect. He thought he had broken that long ago, when he had been unable to save Boone. But now...he wasn't even trying to save someone when Zander died.
"I'm sorry this happened to you," Kate said, stepping towards him. Her voice was softer now. There was even some honesty there, though Jack wasn't quite ready to believe her. "I know you don't deserve all of this...none of us do. We don't ask for this...suffering. But we do have to deal with it, and it'd just be better if people didn't know..."
"But if it's such a good thing he's dead then why can't they know?" His voice was raw. He swallowed, realizing how hoarse he was becoming, that frozen tears lingered in his eyes.
"Because," Kate's eyes had met his now, and he realized what was in them: fear. "When...the Others find out...they're not going to be too happy. They'll want revenge. We can't scare them, we have to protect them. So when the Others come, we have to lie. We have to do something because...their leader is dead."
Jack hesitated. Her last statement almost brought hope. Almost. But his throat still felt dry, and he knew the air wasn't thin enough yet for everything to be okay so soon.
"Won't they be lost then?" He said. "Won't that tear them apart?"
But he wouldn't let himself feel the satisfaction Kate did...he wouldn't let himself be proud of a murder. He could construct all the plans he wanted and carry guns and even aim a weapon at someone. But actually killing someone was something he could have never prepared himself for.
"It didn't to us," Kate replied softly, her voice only a whisper. A spark ignited in her eye, and she smiled a little, as though this reassured her. Then she broke eye contact and glanced to the ground. Uncertainty. She was afraid. He was still confused. Now she seemed so innocent, and her honest tone had almost manipulated his stunned confusion. But once he remembered, everything changed. Suddenly Kate wiped dirt away from her face with her arm and glanced to the ground. The grave was dug. "We need to get him buried."
He knew this was what they'd come out here to do, but for a moment he swerved between awareness and dream, where he had almost forgotten why he was standing in the jungle, covered in sweat and earth. Blood even stained his hands from handling the body. But as he looked to the ground, to where Zander lay, eyes gazing up to the island- his own island- in horror, he remembered, and the sickening feeling in his stomach resurfaced.
"We'll be okay," Kate was saying. She lay her shovel down. Her head nodded compulsively. "You'll be okay."
But she couldn't know that. She didn't even know what he was going through. No one did. And the thought they had to continue as though nothing happened...the terror he was feeling soon matched the terror in Zander's eyes.
----
It was in his nature to prepare for the worse. Throughout the hike back to the hatch, Jack fell victim to this trait as he considered all that could go wrong. They could enter the hatch to find the entire camp waiting for them, not embracing them with joy and thanks, but with interrogations and confused reactions. He didn't know how he'd deal with it, how people would react. Maybe they wouldn't even think of Kate as having taken part of the crime, but as it all being thanks to himself and one long-awaited rage of revenge. Or maybe Sawyer woke up, only to see Kate with the gun, Kate pulling the trigger. Or maybe no one would ever know. They'd have to hide this, and he'd have to go on pretending to be the innocent victim, so helpless as he was left to cope with his traumatic life.
"You ready?" Kate asked quietly, her voice becoming lost in the humidity of the night, as though she didn't even want to ask. She already should have known the answer; Jack didn't reply.
His eyes, following the ground through their journey, wondering how many more had been secretly buried there, spotted the hatch door. An uncertain gasp escaped him as he realized this was the end. There was no more walking, no more endless jungle. There was no pause of time to consider what had happen; it was all left to the journey back. He wasn't ready. He knew this, and he didn't want to step inside. His hand lingered on the door, and he closed his eyes. It was one of those moments where you knew your life was about to change. He wasn't ready for change. Kate's hand fell on his shoulder, and he instinctively shoved away. He wasn't really sure why...he had been asking for any sign that she was more than a cold-blooded murderer. But it was done; perhaps the gesture had only been a hint that he was lingering for too long. He could feel her waiting behind him, watching him with eyes of an emotion he wasn't sure was real. Maybe he was only thinking he was seeing things and hearing things because that was what he wanted to hear and see. In one beat of hope, he considered that maybe he was imagining this whole night. Eager to hold onto that moment, Jack pushed open the door and led Kate through the hallway and into the living room.
The empty room waited for him to sigh in relief. The lightening was dim, still suffering from the earlier incident. Furniture cluttered the room...before he'd had to make a path to reach the couch safely. In the kitchen a light beam dangled from the roof, and from the bathroom a faucet leaked. Everything was the same as it had been before. Only he was different, and the blood that stained the floor. Jack remained blank. He didn't feel as though he should be relieved. Maybe he deserved to have to face everything he was afraid of. Still, solemn, he didn't notice Kate had stepped beside him until she spoke:
"He's still asleep."
From the corner of his eye he could spot her smile: the smallest radiance of gratitude. He allowed his eyes to trail to the couch where Sawyer was rested, undisturbed amongst the eventful evening. He almost wished that he had been in that position, to be allowed a night's of rest, to be momentarily taken from the world while guaranteed a peaceful return. To sleep without dreaming, because he knew this would be impossible. Flashbacks already haunted his dreams, streams of memory returning to him at a time when he could not respond. And now, with the sound of gunshots firing subconsciously and dirt clinging to his fingernails of the grave he had just dug...blood staining his hands, teasing, threatening to never wash away...rest would never come.
He realized he was watching Kate, watching her walk up to the couch, gazing at Sawyer. He watched her expression, as she smiled grimly, and stepped away. Would she tell him? He thought. Could she really keep something like a murder a secret from him?
"I'll check to see if anyone's here," she announced. She glanced towards him sympathetically, grim smile still presence. She disappeared into an adjacent room. So that was how she would do it. She would ignore Sawyer, avoid the truth. It would tear apart their relationship. Both of them would be devastated...none of this was even Sawyer's fault. Even if Kate proved to be a believable actress, lying still wasn't fair.
The dripping of the faucet continued to pester his mind. Could nothing in the hatch work correctly? He wished he could just close his eyes, and everything would be perfect again. There would be no overturned tables, fallen bookshelves. Stains of blood on the floor. The desire became so strong that he did close his eyes, tightly, desperately, praying to anyone who would listen for everything to just piece itself back together again. For his life to no longer be this utterly uncleanable mess. He opened with eyes with such a hope, finding his faith and confidence suddenly strong.
At first everything seemed the same. Sawyer still slept on the couch, surrounded by fallen debri. Albums of music and novels lay at his feet. But the lights seemed brighter, he swore they were. Then he spotted the kitchen. Jack frowned. The once nearly-fallen light beam was safely replaced on the ceiling, shining more brightly than ever. But he could have sworn...raising a hand to his head, Jack dug his fingers into his forehead, messaging the skin there in hopes to clear his mind. He looked back up. The light beam was still connected to the ceiling. As the increasingly taunting sound of the leaky faucet lay further in his mind, Jack decided to convince himself he had been seeing things, the light had never been broken, and headed towards the bathroom.
Everything was dark, only shadows of outside silhouettes in the mirror provided a difference kind of light. Jack flipped the light-switch and the room lit up like a fireworks celebration, everything glowing as though that's what he wanted to see. He remembered the beam of light, but quickly as he did he shook the image away. He couldn't start hallucinating now. He needed his mind to be as healthy as possible for him to figure out what he was going to do.
Dreadfully he examined the damage of the room. The lights may have worked, but everything else wasn't as lucky. Hidden underneath the sink had been a box of medical supplies, mainly the shots the Swan workers were supposed to be giving themselves. Now that box was turned over, and all its contents were scattered in unorganized chaos across the floor. Sighing, Jack sidestepped the medicine and crossed over to the shower. The leaking faucet grew nearer and nearer, and as he slid open the door he discovered this was, indeed, the source. After making sure the pipes still worked- they did, but weakly- Jack turned to leave.
As he did he spotted himself in the mirror. He froze in shock at the man staring back at him, bruise and scarred face, loosely worn clothing that wasn't even his. His hair was growing more than he thought, reaching a more richer, more darker color than he expected to see. Jack stepped towards the mirror, facing it with both feet planted amongst the clutter on the floor. Medicine shifted at the demand of his foot; even a toothbrush fell victim to his dirt-covered shoes. He may not have been able to remember his birthday, but he was years older than what he turned last year. Scars from battles he lost...rarely won...had become a part of his self-portrait. His mother wouldn't have recognized him. Disgusted, feeling sick to his stomach, Jack forced himself to look away from himself. His eyes found his hands, his bloody palms and brown fingertips told as much of a story as those scars. He was horrified. Frightened. When had he become this person? He felt like he had no control over the progression of his life...the pain and suffering. Then he realized the blood and dirt didn't have to remain a part of him like the scars. His hands began to shake; he was hardly able to turn on the water. His fingers shook as the warm water burned the bruises he had almost forgotten on his wrist. He winced violently, and tears even stung in his eyes at the momentary pain. Each time he reach for the bar of soap his fingers slipped, sending the bar splashing into the pool of water slowly developing in the sink. At last his hands grasped the soap and he scrubbed the blood away, and his mind he erased the memories, desperate for all of it not even to not be a part of the past, but to cease to exists. Try as he might, he would never be able to figure out what happened that night. He even closed his eyes so that, like the light beam, the night could just piece itself back together. It worked before; it could work again. He so desperately believed this that he stood there, trembling and hands shaking as he violently washed them, closing his eyes and opening them again, cries of rage escaping him when the trick didn't work. Frustration swarmed his skin as the dirt and blood washed away, to the point where he finally slammed his fist against sink and shut off the water.
His palms were red from the effort to wash them, but there was no trace having dug a grave or moving a dead body. Tears of relief blinked in his eyes. He felt exhausted as he stood there, clinging to the edges of the sink because he knew if he didn't, he would collapse. He took deep breaths, and he closed his eyes, though more tears threatened to come at the thought of the night being there when he opened his eyes, when he dried his hands and stepped back into the other room. The blood was still on the floor, he remembered. He could stand here for many more nights, wondering if day had ever even come, and it would still be there. A bucket lay on its side under the sink, and Jack grabbed it, beginning to fill it with water. He avoided his own eyes and gazed down the bucket- proudly (or irritably?) labeled with the Swan's symbol. Water splashed in side, innocent and willingly racing to the top. He turned off the sink and sighed. Within minutes, the bucket would be filled with blood...more blood. When he'd fallen into his profession he came unaware of the effects of blood, of the amount of it he would see. There was only a certain amount given for each life, and losing it was a fragile risk that require a race against the clock to save and restore. Blood could be lifeless or full of life; could save or could remain as a puddle on the ground, a trail to a body left for dead. At least, he thought, they buried him. He closed his eyes as he remembered giving the order to burn the fuselage. All those lives...burned without consent. On his word. He swallowed and clenched his fist around the piercing edges of the bucket. Abruptly, he left the room. He didn't want to think about his poor decisions or failures...he just wanted this to be done with.
Drops of water splashed to the ground, staining his jeans and sneakers as he walked into the living room. Kate was there, in her place beside Sawyer, on the floor. She seemed to be lost as he entered, never flinching his footsteps. He didn't even think she'd acknowledge his presence until he kneeled to the ground. His eyes locked with the stains of blood, coloring the floor like a child's spilt watercolor's. A trail created lines in the floor, seeping and ruining the wood that provided a surface for the hatch, separating it from the rock and earth below. Jack grimaced; some stains lasted forever.
"I can do that." Kate's whisper of an offer rang softly towards him, and Jack shook at her voice: so fragile and helpless. He wondered what she had gone through in his absence...what kind of thoughts went through her head. But he knew that she didn't want to do this as much as he didn't.
"I'm fine," he called back. His voice was horse, suffering from an eventful night sans sleep, sans water. He realized how thirsty he was, how long it had been since he had something to drink; and for Kate as well. Maybe, after this, he should make something for dinner...they could actually talk.
"Jack-"
"Be quiet." He wasn't being too rude, or speaking as though paranoid. He was just, all of a sudden, becoming so tired, so drained from all that happened. But, as before, he knew rest would never come. Heaving a sigh, Jack scrubbed the floor, watching blankly as the blood soaked the sponge and then fell in streams into the bucket. Again blood was coating his hands, he realized dreadfully. It seeped through the sponge and then over his fingers like sand and a beach shovel. The white cloth of the towel was now dyed a dark red, deep as though it wanted to turn black. He wished it would so he wouldn't have to look at the blood. But then, he saw, the blood was nearly removed from the floor. After only a few moment's worth of cleaning, the floor was completely cleansed, save a few spots where the blood was permanently stained into the wood. Maybe no one would ask. He tried but the blood wouldn't come out, and now his fingers were scratched red. He sighed, and picked up the bucket. As he knew it would, the water was now bloody.
He wiped his face with an arm as he stood. He glanced to Kate, still sitting, waiting, beside Sawyer. She didn't acknowledge him as he looked to the kitchen. He wondered if she'd ask about the light beam. Still it remained attached to the ceiling, as though it had never been at risk of breaking from the roof, clinging by one end: a sign of caution. No, he told himself, remember. He had only been hallucinating. No matter how disturbing the thought was that the setting had changed like that, he'd been through enough that night. In fact, he should be grateful. Keeping his sanity would be more difficult than thought, and so he told himself he had only been hallucinating. He had only been hallucinating.
----
This path had been memorized by nearly every single one of them, taken countless times during search parties and hikes to the other side of the island. Silent hope would feel the air then, and it always felt possible that on the trip back to camp, Jack would be back with them. Sayid remembered every one of these trips as though he was remembering family gatherings. Support went unspoken, reaching out to each one of them as they coped with their loss each time. So many times...it would become so difficult for Kate that she would be in tears before they even left their own camp. It became routine, and any of them could have taken the path alone, asleep, and known the way. It was like going to school or work, but none of them ever enjoyed the trip. Losing hope like they experienced was one of the worser tortures Sayid had ever gone through. Only once had they had what could be considered success. When they were allowed to see Jack. The routine had been the same, the search party was himself, Locke, Sawyer, and Kate. Each time they conducted one of these searches the objective would be to discover as much about the land as they could, find every hidden door and pathway into the camp as possible. The previous time Kate found an undiscovered path, one more directly entering the Others' camp. A couple of times they were forced away by threats they could not negotiate, but this time the Others were willing to cooperate. They brought Jack forward, and hope was fully redeemed. He'd stumble towards them uncertainly, surely thinking he was in a dream. His hands were tied and his mouth bound; he was still been wearing the same clothes as when he had been kidnapped. A bag was over his head. When they took it off he looked afraid; he must not have known where they were taking him. He hadn't had a chance to hide any feelings of fear or conceal any uncertainty. His emotions were forcefully announced to his friends, as were the bruises and scars on his face, arms, and hands he hadn't bore previously. Sawyer stepped forward and cut the rope binding his wrist. Patiently they all watched as Kate stepped forward, taking one of Jack's hands. After so much fear, after so much worry, they were all grateful for her to have this moment, to see him and know for sure he was alive. They were relieved themselves as well, as they had not joined the search party solely in support of Kate.
Then Sawyer grabbed Jack, and they fled into the jungle. Sayid protested at first- the decision had come so quickly and without consent- but then he followed willingly, realizing this may be their chance to save Jack. But Jack was as weak as he looked, and they couldn't be angry at him. Nearly collapsing, they all paused as Jack recovered from exhaustion after hardly running a few yards. He begged for water and food. They wanted to run, they knew Jack wanted to run, but he was shaking too much; he was too weak. He hardly spoke, giving simple sentences whenever he spoke. Sawyer asked how he was being treated, and Jack replied casually- hiding the truth for his own sake or the Others', they would never know. Concerned, and suffering from having not been able to talk to a friend- someone she care about- for so long, Kate requested that she talk to Jack alone. They agreed and would never know what they talked about. They would only hear her screams of protest a few moments later, more than three minutes, Sayid observed- Kate must have renegotiated. Running to side, Sayid was forced to keep her away as they took Jack away. He watched, Kate's head buried into his shoulder, crying, as they tied Jack's hands, binding him as they had before. The scene would haunt his dreams, still did as he remained mesmerized by Jack's sudden reappearance. The way Kate's emotional, Sayid's hand holding hers in reassurance, Jack's helpless and fearful eyes. Except for Jack being there, so many similar scenes would also haunt him- search party failures and many nights after seeing Jack. Jack's father's funeral. Jack's funeral. All of it connecting to this path, so worn with memory, still crying in sadness. Trees swooped to the ground, some sans branches and leaves as Sawyer had picked away its life in anger and frustration. Old footprints peaking out from the ground, rocks overturned so that he may see them. Memories running their cycle. Moonlight broke through trees, and Sayid could still spot old campsites where they would be forced to sleep. No sleep would ever come.
They would not stop tonight. The captives didn't deserve rest. He would never know how Jack was truly treated until he was told, and until he was he would assume the worse. He knew of the misfortune of being taken captive, though he would not admit the details to Kate, and he knew she lay awake at night, disturbing herself with possibilities of such torture. He would continue to lead the prisoners through the darkness. Their camp was just over the next hill, and within a couple of memories Sayid found himself staring at the familiar buildings and housing. Lights stood unafraid in the sky, confidence guiding brave travelers to their doorstep. Though it was dangerously early in the morning there were some residents outside, and Sayid didn't have to stand long before authorities exited a nearby cabin-like building.
"Bea?" Tom asked. He stared at Sayid, furious.
"You can have them back when you give us your word to leave Jack alone," Sayid announced. One by one houses surrounding the main buildings- all standing tall and large: lodges aside from one building that could have been in the center of a downtown city. He could have stood there, marveled at its odd presence on the island, noting its eight stories and windows lining every possible space of exterior, for hours and considered what was inside. But this would have to wait; the memory had already made home and he could offer himself a lifetime of wonder at the mental photograph. "And by 'word' I mean that if any one of your people chose to enter our side again, there will be no sympathy."
He hesitated to include 'we', as he was aware of his secretive actions of bringing the captives back home.
"Looks like you left one of us behind," Tom observed, eyes trailing to each of the three captives, including Juliet, who was glaring at Tom. Sayid was confused, but he hid this carefully. "Sorry, but I can't make a deal until all are given back. And by 'all' I mean you give us our leader, and maybe we'll give one of Jack's pathetic escape attempts a few moments head start before we catch him."
"Looks like you waited too long last time," Juliet retorted. She grinned.
"You better watch who you're talking to!" An Other close to Tom exclaimed. "Remember whose possession you're in."
"Until there is an agreement, that would be mine." Juliet's triumphant grin shine brighter at Sayid's cool reminder. The reaction made him feel uncertain: could she trust Jack so much that she was unintemidated by being their captive? Juliet didn't even seem bothered by the fact that she had been caught during her and Jack's escape...she was completely standing up for the doctor. Again he found himself confuse and, this time, even a little angry- after all, she could be one of them. But 'remember whose possession you're in'...maybe his judgment was wrong.
"Just tell us where Zander is, and maybe, maybe, we'll consider an agreement," Tom said. Sayid only stared at him. He was searching for a way to use their missing leader to his advantage; he didn't want to admit he did not know of his whereabouts. But the moment lingered on. People were watching for him, waiting for an answer- they were worried, he realized. Another advantage. All of this could come together as a plan if he could only think quickly...
But he wasn't quick enough. A gun was shoved into his back, and he was knocked to the ground. The prisoners were released from his hold, taken back to their own people. His own weapon was being held as his head.
"Take her back," the man holding him captive ordered. "He stays with us."
Sayid gasped as he attempted to recover. He kept his head above the ground and tried to see where his captors were, but all he saw was that he was surrounded in guns. Panic escaped as he realized the danger he was in, the same danger Jack had first entered nine months ago. This must be what Jack had gone through: fear and desperation, the struggle to hide his weakness. Mud lingered in the lines on his face as Sayid raised his hands to the air, knowing this was, at least for the moment, defeat. Roughly, he was forced to his feet, and his hands were bound.
----
Normalcy was difficult to come by on the island. Even when all was quiet and there was no chore to do, no more blood to clean up, there was always that need for escape. Hurley building the golf course hadn't been such a bad idea, Jack thought. But now, with the Others out there and being constantly in danger, even that escape was taken away. It wasn't fair. Didn't he deserve such freedom of the mind, to find a place where he could have no worries, or at least be able to think through all his worrying. This was why children built tree-houses. Not because it was cool idea to sleep in trees and climb up to that bed, but because even children faced difficulties, pain in life they couldn't wrap their minds around. As a kid, he could never figure out how to build a tree-house. He knew how one looked and everything, but he couldn't make one on his own. But as an adult, there were no tree-houses. Even on this island, full of trees stretching over miles of land his only escape was to stay in the kitchen, alone, as long as possible and hope no one would come looking for him.
Sighing, he turned off the sink. It was only that afternoon when he discovered the leak in the sink, and Kate came by, easily fixing the sink. He could count the hours it had been since then on two hands. That didn't seem right. The way everything happened so quickly- the incident, being kidnapped...just there was enough of trauma for a normal person. But on this island, he supposed they were considered superhuman, and added to that list was being chased and almost killed by some smoke monster, having to save a gunshot victim, and taking part in a murder. He shook his head. Medical school hadn't prepared him for this. Even his father's lecturing hadn't. Oh wait, so they had...had he just listened before, convinced Locke that his father was right, he wasn't a leader, maybe he wouldn't be so important. He could just be another castaway and never be a threat to anyone. Perhaps Sayid or Locke would be leader instead and never make as stupid of mistakes as he had.
He sat down at the kitchen table, another heavy sigh escaping him. This could be a call for sleep, as his head instinctively fell to his hands as soon as he was seated in the booth.
"I hope you're not expecting a waiter," Eko's gentle, but amused, voice said.
He wanted to be left alone, but Jack hid this. He wasn't up for making any more enemies.
"I'm not eating," Jack replied. His throat was dry and his stomach was begging to be fed, but he felt too weak to eat.
Eko did not respond but walked to the sink and turned the water on. They remained in silence for a moment, and Jack wondered what Kate said when Eko came in. This was the first test, he thought. Can you keep a secret?
"When you first disappeared," Eko began talking. Jack didn't lift his head, but he heard Eko cutting up some kind of food. "Our people went days when they would just sit. They did not eat, did not sleep, only wished for you to be found. I knew you would not want such sacrifice." Eko placed something in front of him on the table. Jack glanced up and was greeted by a bowl of various fruits. "Surely you are not a hypocrite."
The comment brought a small smile to Jack's face. He accepted the food.
"Thanks," he said.
He was almost disappointed when Eko did not leave. Instead the man sat down across from him, like a mother waiting for you to try her newest dinner recipe. He really was planning on eating, starving himself, he decided, wasn't smart in his plan to remain sane. But he was thinking, he should fix something for Kate to eat too. Suddenly food was all he could think about. A sickening feeling still squirmed within him, but nevertheless, under Eko's careful watch, Jack picked up a piece of fruit. His hand was shaking slightly, and he had to close his eyes upon remembering the blood on them just moments before. He dropped the banana slice into his mouth as quickly as possible, wincing at the taste of food. His head spun momentarily, and his throat didn't seem to realize what was happening. But with a hard swallow, Jack successfully completed the first bite of the fruit salad. Eko smiled. Jack managed another small smile in reply.
"How are the people at the beach?" Jack asked. He realized that even though they looked at him like he betrayed them, they must be scared.
"Afraid," Eko said, "they may not say so, but they are."
Jack nodded, lifting more fruit to his mouth.
"That's how people can be," he said. Eko stared at him, smiling like they shared some secret. Jack realized what he meant...what he was doing here. "I'm fine. You didn't have to come check on me." Suddenly he got angry...though it was somewhat a relief they still cared about him. "Who sent you?"
"I sent me."
"Well...thanks, but, I'm fine," he realized he was finished eating and stood up. Immediately he felt sore, so tired and drained he stumbled when as he stood. It didn't make for a convincing argument. Eko still smiled, as though to prove his point. Walking limply towards the sink, Jack hesitated of what he could say to prove Eko wrong. But he could only think of a question. He looked back to the table, where a fake window stood behind it and fake sunshine shone through. Didn't the Dharma people ever wonder, Jack thought, when it was raining? Spending day after day and years in this hatch...didn't they get frustrated at the thought of sun and sandy beaches and the ocean? But right now, he would give anything for the sun to be shining, to feel the heat from its rays. He craved day...not only daylight, but an entire rewind of the clock. If so much bad could happen in those hours of that horrid night, couldn't so much good happen in the day? "Is it morning yet?"
"Yes."
A true smile poured across Jack's face, fighting through threatening tears, radiant as the light he was so grateful for. He wanted to be out of the hatch. He wanted to see the ocean, the sun...he wanted to know there was hope.
Eko stood from the table, his smile lingering. Jack didn't mind. For the first time he didn't feel annoyed or offended.
"People want to know if you're afraid," Eko said, "I came here to tell you that."
Eko's honesty made him feel worse about lying, so worse that his smile that felt so permanent seemed to fade. And so here was the real world again. What would it take to escape? He desperately wanted an escape. More importantly, he wanted a guide: someone to help him overcome what happened. As Eko left, he even thought he was taking his concern for granted. Jack stared at his hands, all signs of happiness gone. Maybe he should talk to Kate.
----
Devoted as always, Kate was sitting on the floor beside Sawyer when Jack entered. Paused for a moment, the remains of his fruit salad in one hand, a sandwich in the other. She didn't acknowledge him, as always, too lost in a world he did not know of. Jack swallowed and continued to approach her. He could not let himself interfere with that world he did not understand...it wasn't fair to Kate for him to be confused or angry. Still he thought it wouldn't hurt to pull her away, offer her someone to talk to.
"Hungry?" He asked.
She didn't appear startled but simply shook her head no. That didn't mean he couldn't talk to her. Carefully he walked over to her, sitting the food on the floor before sitting down himself. He gazed at her, troubled by her sadness. He wasn't the only one who had been through a lot that night, and Kate had someone she cared about who was ill. She'd spent most of the night worrying that Sawyer would die and the rest so patiently waiting for him to get better. While the long night was over for him, Kate had no idea the sun was out.
"He should wake up in a few hours," Jack told her.
"Great," Kate said, sarcasm sticking out dangerously amongst her hoarse voice, "then he'll get to be awake through the pain."
Looking down, Jack hid his reaction. Earlier she had insulted his ability as a doctor; and when she made comments like these, her voice so cold and angry, her words felt true, even if she may apologize later. He searched for a way back into conversation. He wondered if they should even talk about last night. Maybe now wasn't the right time after all. It was too soon. But sitting in silence didn't feel right and neither did walking away. If Sawyer could be there for her in his absence, he could return the favor.
"I remembered you were a vegetarian," Jack said, nodding towards the sandwich, "so I did the best I could."
"I'm not hungry," she whispered.
"Please," he tried, and smiled a little, "I made it myself."
Kate finally glanced down at the food, a tiny grin slipping across her face. It seemed almost accidental amongst her dried-tears and tired eyes, but he decided it wasn't.
"Anybody can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," she pointed out.
"Yes," smiling was coming easier now, he realized, "but this is a Dharma sandwich, and I don't even work for Dharma. How many people are that special?"
His joke caused a stir of emotions, and suddenly tears were forming in Kate's eyes. Smile fading, Jack studied her, wondering what he said that was wrong. But at last Kate smiled again.
"Okay," she agreed. She had fallen to a whisper again, this being all she was allowed, but she still smiled as she took the plate. He couldn't help but to watch for reaction, suddenly understanding how Eko had before. Slowly she took a first bite, as though this weren't just a sandwich but some big step in their relationship. She swallowed and the sandwich remained in her hands. Jack grinned. Kate glanced towards the fruit. "How come I don't get any fruit?"
Jack looked down to the half-empty fruit bowl, embarrassed.
"Eko made that for me," he explained, "you can have some if you want."
"That's okay," Kate replied, "I'm all for peanut butter for breakfast." He stared at her surprised, and almost angry, that she knew it was morning. He didn't know why...maybe it was something he wanted to tell her. "Or dinner. If you like eating at three in the morning."
He smiled in relief. He wondered if he should tell her, or maybe suggest that she'd go step out for some air and she'd find out for herself. Or maybe, the worse option, she wouldn't care. The thought sent him into a lapse of silence and his stomach twisted in disappointment. She just wanted to be here, with Sawyer. Though she may continue eating the sandwich, he knew her thoughts weren't really with himself. That was okay, if she was worried about Sawyer, but jealously was sprouting within him. He wanted to talk to her, but suddenly he had no words. He was too afraid. The conversation didn't have to be about the morning or the sun; he worried that anything he said wouldn't matter to her. Like that their banter disappeared; all conversation was gone. She wasn't even looking at him anymore, her eyes were already fixed on Sawyer, and on some other world- the one he didn't know.
He had to look away. He couldn't sit here forever, he realized. Especially if she wasn't talking to him. If he sat here, just to be there for her, would she recognize that? But as he looked away, his eyes fell to the armory. Juliet...he felt sick. She was still out there, with Sayid, being led back to the place she feared the most. He should be reaching them, right now, and stopping this. But he had agreed to stay, to help Sawyer. Which wasn't a bad thing. But still...
"We can still look for her," Kate told him. He looked at her. She wasn't looking at him, but he knew she was aware of what she had said. Her voice was full, overcoming its hoarse tone. Her eyes weren't as distant as she'd become aware of his thoughts. He felt guilty, suddenly, even as he had longed for her to not forget him.
"It's okay," Jack lied. He wanted to look for Juliet, but he had also made a promise to Kate. He had a duty as a doctor, as a friend, to stay and help Sawyer. But none of this could make him forget that she was still out there. Later, after Sawyer woke up Jack would still want to go, but he knew Kate's mind would change...if she was even being truthful now, though he couldn't blame her. "I'll go later."
Kate looked up at him. The look was so sudden, so disapproving, she startled him.
"No," she said. "You're not going out there alone."
"I'll be okay," he assured her, though he honestly wasn't as confident. What if the monster was still looking for him? What if he had some sort of sudden break down and wasn't able to handle everything? What if he couldn't find Juliet and got lost? His worrying went on, so much he began to feel sick with nerves. Jack tried to ignore this; he couldn't let anything stop him from going.
"No!" Kate exclaimed. She was nearly in tears. "I'm not going to let you just walk back into their camp!"
"I can't let her either!" Jack said. "She deserves more than that she-"
"I don't believe this," she said, shaking her head. She looked away from him, disgusted. Tears blinked in her eyes. "You don't even know if she's telling the truth!"
"Yes I do!" Jack had to hold back from shouting. He was fighting all he had committed himself to, a commitment he promised himself he wouldn't break.
"How?" Kate was shouting, but as soon as her voice echoed through the hatch it softened; she remembered Sawyer, still sleeping. "Give me one reason."
"I just..." he trailed off. He felt guilty for lying, sick even, knowing the people he was hurting by protecting himself. He knew he would soon have to put a stop to it. "Look at her. She's afraid, she-"
"She was going to give you back to them!" Kate said. "She was going to betray you, Jack."
"But she didn't," he said, "please, Kate, she needs my help." He realized he hadn't even asked her anything. He stood up. "It doesn't matter. I'm going."
He felt her tug at his hand, pulling him back towards her. He stopped, hesitating. She didn't look angry anymore; she looked hurt.
"What about Sawyer?" She asked. She looked devastating that he would betray his word, and he knew she was right. He wasn't planning to leave right now, but maybe she didn't want him to leave at all. Jack stopped, and sat back down.
"I know," he said. He looked at her and their eyes met. He regretted so much...he wished she could understand. Someday, she would have to. Because he would tell her the truth. Just...not now.
----
August 10th, 2005
August 10th, 2005
The night was dark. So dark. Alex was afraid, even though she was only watching. Watching as she came closer and closer to the ground. As she watched as the pile of dirt came closer and closer to view. It shone in the moonlight, standing out center stage as though she might actually miss it. Closer, closer, closer, closer. She was being led to the ground, her eyes following, into the ground. Through the pile of dirt. Down, she was watching as her eyes followed, down through the earth, passing layers of dirt. Tree roots growing everywhere. Following foot after foot of this scenery. The dark night could still be sensed from here. Darkness. Wind shivering... A surreal feeling she couldn't explain. Further and further, passed the trees roots, further into the ground. The day, today's date, whispered in her ear as she watched the last tree roots, last of the filled hole until she saw his body. Zander lay dead in the grave.
In the morning light Alex shot up from her sleep and screamed.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading and thanks for reviewing!
Until next time...
October Sky