Lost belongs to JJ Abrams and crew, borrowing for some non-profit fun. After the rescue, things are anything but joyous for Jack. Enjoy! (has sequels -- Interim & Ineffable)
Lost – Incarceration
By Mystic
June 8th 2005
Jack stumbled down the dark hallway, listening to the clinking of the ice in his glass. It brought back memories, memories he wanted to wash away. It took him back almost eight years, to a time he thought he'd forgotten, but was only buried under the surface. He heard a woman suck her teeth as he passed, and he shook his head, rubbing his brow softly, feeling the small beads of sweat there, threatening to roll down his nose. He wondered what his dad would think of him now? Bowing under pressuring like a wilting weed.
"What are you doing?" The voice is calm, but confused and he shakes his head, staring down at the small body that stands in the doorway he's passed. She's five now and thin, pale. Her long dark hair is disheveled and hanging around her shoulders. "Dad? Where are you going?" She pushes the door open slightly and he leans against the adjacent wall, watching her walk away and come back with a chair, standing on it on tip toe to undo the keychain she's put on for protection.
"Ssshhhh!" He holds a finger to his mouth and frowns, hearing the sound of her feet stomping back across the hotel room carpet make to put the chair back where she'd gotten it.
He feels small hands pressing into his back, shoving him into the room, towards the second bed and he falls into it with a grunt, hearing a small murmer from the other bed. The little girl leaves him and there's silence as he turns his head to see her patting the baby on his back gently, rocking him to a calm sleep. "I changed his diaper," she tells him without looking. "His clothes are ready for tomorrow."
Jack nods into the bed and his glass falls, spilling ice along the floor. There's a familiar sigh and he watches the little girl go around the bed, picking up the cup and depositing the ice into it before putting it next to the bathroom sink and returning with a towel to blot the liquor that has stained the carpet.
"What were you doing?" She smells the towel in her hands. "What's this?" He turns to look at her and the towel touches his nose. Jack breathes in Bacardi and smiles, wishing he could just go back down to the bar where he could have another cup from the young man who asks no questions and demands nothing of him.
"Past your bedtime," he manages as he turns his head again, away from her.
"This is just like you, Jack."
He presses his hands into the thick purple comforter under him and glares at the child going around the bed. She pulls her hair up and lets it fall onto her back, raising her chin indignantly. "What did you say to me?" He asks, his voice low.
She turns, stares at him with dark eyes and plants her hands on her waist. "It's just past two, Dad."
"Liar." It slips past his lips and he watches her eyes widen, watches her eyebrows fall and her mouth purse. "God you look like your mother."
There's a pause and he wonders what she's thinking. Her face is blank. Her eyes even glaze over and he sees Kate's face now, staring out at the ocean. "Dad, you need sleep." The small body climbs onto the bed and touches his back, trying to rock him to sleep like she had her little brother. Jack closes his eyes. She starts to hum a tune she learned from a shaggy haired blonde man a long time ago as an infant.
"What time are we seeing mom tomorrow?" She asked, innocently.
He searches his mind and mumbles, "Noon. Lunchtime."
"Will they take her handcuffs off this time, daddy?" Her voice is scared now, shaky.
"I hope so, baby," he responds just before he falls asleep.
Finis
