"I think i'm done gunnin' to get closer
to some imagined bliss.
I gotta knuckle down and just be OK with this.
i'm gonna knuckle down, just be OK with this.
'Course, that starstruck girl is already someone i miss."

- Ani DiFranco, "Knuckle Down"

Summer 1991

Jack hasn't asked. Hasn't even mentioned it since that day in the baby store. But now that they're both apparently living in reality, Juliet's been wondering if she should bring it up.

She's watching them from her desk in the corner, her MCAT prep work spread out across the surface. The semester had ended with one incomplete, a B+ in Biology of Proteins and an A in Contemporary Poetry. Go figure. (Niall had expressed his approval over the phone.) Now she's saturating her brain with all this review for the MCATs, the course three days a week through July (the program labeled as "rigorous, demanding and thorough" because in the past, those had actually been good things to her). Physical Sciences review. Biological Sciences review. Verbal Reasoning and Writing. Workbooks. Essays. Group work.

And here Jack's sitting cross-legged on the floor, David on his tummy on a blanket. The baby's fascinated with everything these days, right now mesmerized that he's holding a sock, waving it in the air and babbling triumphantly. Juliet feels a little guilty right now wishing she could have had him even one year later.

Jack's laughing softly, she can see the way his face is crinkling up, but then he seems to sense her watching them. He looks over his shoulder. "Aren't you supposed to be studying?"

"ABLABABABA!"

"David's being really loud," she hedges. That must be it.

"Do you need help?"

She's taking Kaplan's review course because that's what Jack had taken. "No, I just need to get through this."

"Do you want me to take him out somewhere?"

Is this the 'in' she's looking for? "Jack, if you... if you wanted to take David for the night sometimes, I - that would be OK with me."

He smiles broadly, suddenly. He looks... proud, she realizes with surprise. "Yeah, I'd - I'd love to. Maybe we could work out some sort of schedule?"

What was it she'd thought once upon a time? That she'd made a really stupid fucking decision getting tangled up with Jack Shephard? "It's just, I have a lot of work to do right now and, and do you think..." How much is she going to miss David? Now she's feeling nervous even at the thought, but... a whole night without distractions? And all that sleep? "Maybe if we got one of those portable cribs today, maybe you could take him tonight?"

Jack's entire expression changes, opening and closing his mouth. "I... I, sure, I mean, we could - "

She flushes. "If you already have plans-"

"-I sort of did, but I can-" he says over her.

Oh holy hell. "No, no, it's fine," she stammers. "Maybe tomorrow." Does he have a date? On a Wednesday? It's not like... it's not like they're together or anything, and she's not really sure why her heart is beating so fast. He's totally free to do whatever he wants. Right? It's not like she's supposed to get angry or...

"I could definitely do tomorrow. I'm not working Friday, and..." Jack's got a lab job this summer. Injecting mice with... something. She'd been exhausted when he was telling her about it and she can't remember. What was she even thinking, trying to take the MCAT this year? Because Rachel told her to.

"Tomorrow would be great," Juliet tells him. What the hell is wrong with you? she asks herself.

It's very stressful, being a mother.

Her first night without David feels strange and lonely, like the entire shape of her night is wrong. She'd expected to do her work. Instead she keeps replaying the way David cried as Jack took him down the hall. Should she call Jack? No. No, they'll be all right. If something's wrong, he'll call... right?

Actually, maybe he wouldn't.

No, he would. He would. Right?

So she cooks dinner just for herself, cleans the kitchen. Calls Rachel, gets Niall instead. Washes the parquet floor of the living room, then goes looking for the books Jack had bought her while she was in the hospital. She'd only gotten to a couple of them, chooses Carrie off the stack and soaks in the bathtub for close to an hour.

But Juliet doesn't know what it is about that book, it feels almost like she's read it before but she can't even remember when. Or why she'd want to read it again. She sighs, dropping the book on the bathroom floor, and drains the tub.

As she dries off, she pauses, watching herself in the mirror. The stretchmarks aren't as obvious, but she's so clearly not back to normal yet (if ever?), slouchy skin on her stomach, not even into her old clothes. Just the ones she'd bought back in Flagstaff at around 12 weeks pregnant. And if Jack really did have a date last night, well, it was likely with a girl (woman?) who would still look good in a bikini.

Juliet throws the towel over the mirror, pulls on pajama pants and her UCLA T-shirt. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, it doesn't. I have David.

She hopes he's OK. That they're having fun, that David isn't wondering where she is. They've never been apart more than a couple of hours. (She can't believe she thought this would be a good idea.) Studying? How had she thought she'd be able to concentrate without David making noise somewhere? Ugh. But she has to pump anyway, so she might as well at least look at the MCAT stuff while she does it, right? And maybe after, she'll just leave Carrie on the table in the laundry room and see if anyone takes it. Too bad. She'd really wanted to enjoy that one.

Juliet spreads out her work on her desk again. How is it even possible that this would have been a normal night for her before David?

She hears the music as soon as she steps off the elevator the next morning, in the otherwise quiet of the hallway. Psychedelic-sounding drumbeats warped out and somehow too slow, and if it's a song she almost could recognize, but doesn't.

It's coming from Jack's apartment.

Confused, she knocks on the door, waits as footsteps approach. Jack swings open the door, David on his hip. The baby shrieks, reaching out his arms for her, wiggling excitedly, and her heart fucking swells that he's as excited to see her as she is to see him, taking his snuggly little body against hers. "I missed you so much, baby," Juliet whispers. After a moment, though, she looks up. Jack has a record player in the corner, a record spinning. David starts bouncing in her arms, chattering like a little squirrel. "What is this?"

Jack looks sheepish. "It's Come Together by the Beatles, but at a slower RPM. I put it on and the dial was turned down. Wait a second, let me start it over. I want to show you something."

"OK?" She follows him slowly, halfway. Jack lifts the needle, moves it back to the edge of the record - David stills in her arms before Jack sets it down again. She can recognize it now, the first notes, slow and stretched out and trippy. David starts moving again, wiggling, shaking his arms and arching back to try to look at the source of the music behind him. When he gets far back enough, he lets out a big belly laugh. "Oh my god! What're you doing? Are you laughing? Can you laugh for us?"

David giggles again, smacking her in the face with a flailing arm.

Jack grins. "You OK?"

She touches her face, smiling. "Yeah."

"Did he ever laugh before?"

"No." Is she supposed to be upset she missed this milestone? She's probably supposed to be upset. Except she's not, just glad she's seeing it now. Juliet turns the baby around so he's facing outward, bringing him closer to the record player, swaying with the music. David kicks his feet enthusiastically and Jack pokes at his toes as David laughs again. "He's dancing," she breathes.

Jack grins again, stepping closer to them both. "That's what I was thinking."

The moment seems suspended a little too long, David squirming between them, the two of them watching each other, smiling. "I... I should probably go. Was he... was everything OK?"

"He was... Yeah, he was fine. It was great having him. How was your night?"

"Aaababababa!"

"I missed him," Juliet admits. "The sleep was nice, though."

Jack nods. The next song starts. Weren't the Beatles on the verge of breaking up when they made this record?

She wonders what they're supposed to say now.

Jack shifts his weight to his other foot. "You... don't have to go, if..."

Yes. Yes, I do. "I have to, um, I have stuff to do, and..."

"Yeah. Uh, what are you doing on Tuesday?"

Her birthday. She hesitates. "Theresa and Laura were talking about taking me out, and Gemma, if, um, if you could watch David."

"Maybe... maybe I could take you out the midnight before? If we got a sitter?"

She's getting flustered now, David picking up on it and letting out a whine even as the music keeps playing.

"It's just - " he flashes a smile at her - "I'd like to buy you your first legal drink."

She wants to say yes. Everyone goes out at midnight for their 21st. It's just a fact. She's good at facts, right? Except... The last time we got together for 'just a drink,' we created another human being. "I... don't think that would be a good idea."

"Juliet, it's just a drink." He's getting defensive now. Shit. That's not what she wanted. But didn't he just have a date the other night? What the hell? Or maybe he didn't? Why wouldn't he have said what his plans were, then? Is she overthinking this? And why does Jack have to be the first person to buy her her first legal drink? Why couldn't he let one of her friends do it? He doesn't have any claim to her.

"And you think we can get a sitter for midnight?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"It's summer." He frowns.

"That it is."

"So?"

So what's she supposed to say? What does she want to say? "All right."