Title: February
Author: Katerina
Rating: PG
Pairing: J/S, of course… with mentions of M/S
Disclaimer: They're really not mine. Trust me.
Author's Notes: I am so sorry this has taken so long. Real life is the worst – and to top it off, Channel 9 Australia has stopped airing WaT… so there goes my inspiration. Anyway, I hope this is worth the wait! Oh, and the timelines are a bit dodgy in this chapter, but just work with me, okay:-)
As always, thanks to Mariel for her posting skills. And to Sunwalker, who threatened all sorts of horrible things if I didn't update (such as the Macarena, the Bustop, etc).
Chapter Seven
Jack is three-quarters of the way across the Pacific Ocean when the adrenaline finally disappears, and the reaction sets in. He takes a deep breath, trying to relax as his hands tremble on the tray in front of him. He tucks them between his knees, out of sight, out of mind.
He
tries to focus on the large screen at the front of the cabin, where
his plane's route is marked out on a computer-
generated map.
The tiny icon is almost motionless in the expanse of blue. Jack
breathes, and watches it until his eyes begin to blur.
It's almost like he's going nowhere.
XXXX
The sun is painfully bright when she wakes, spearing into her eyes through open blinds. She winces, turning over, hiding her face in white cotton.
She very seriously regrets drinking last night.
Trying to ignore the light, and the raucous calls of the seagulls outside, she concentrates on darkness and sleep.
XXXX
It is late afternoon when she wakes, finally. The sun has moved to the other side of the house, leaving her room in shadow. She stares at the white ceiling, at the slow revolutions of the fan she does not remember turning on.
Watching the constant spin makes her dizzy, and she desperately wants it to stop.
The fan continues to turn.
Rolling over, she pulls herself from the bed, and makes her way on wobbly legs to the kitchen. The water she pours herself there is cool and sweet, and she drinks two glasses without stopping.
Outside, she can hear the waves, their whispers soft and soothing.
She needs to walk.
XXXX
The taxi skims across the blacktop, disturbingly on the wrong side of the road. Jack keeps waiting for it to meet oncoming traffic before he remembers that here it's the right side. Oddly, that little difference shakes him to the core.
He has been traveling this way for an hour and a half now, and he must be nearly there. He knows the fare will be hell, but he doesn't care. At least it will be cheaper than the last-minute airline ticket.
"Where d'ya want dropping off?" the driver asks, his twang startling Jack. Without his noticing it, they have arrived at a tiny town by the sea. He can hear the waves.
Jack shrugs, and looks about. Buildings are lined up neatly down the main, and almost only road, which runs parallel to the sea. He spots a hairdressers', a real estate agent's, and finally something called the Tropical Star, which at least advertises accommodation.
This can't be right. The Sam he knows spent all her young life dreaming of escaping a place like this.
Useless.
He knew it.
XXXX
In the fresh air, the sea breeze whips at her hair, and the pain finally begins to ease.
She picks her way down the steps worn into the rock until she reaches the sand, and begins to walk. Sometimes she stays close to the cliff face as it gradually melts into dunes; today, she strays closer to the surf, paddling and getting her cuffs wet. She always walks towards the jetty, and the tiny town clustered around it, and she knows why: if he were to come, that would be the first place she would see him. She imagines it as she walks. She sees him pause at the edge of the town's main street, just where it runs past the stone retaining wall by the sand. She watches silently as he surveys the ocean, and then takes several careful steps onto the beach. At this point she always smiles, because she can't help but imagine him in his black suit, his shoes filling with sand. In her head, though, he is not bothered as he looks slowly from left to right, from the jetty to where she stands in the water or by the dunes. He sees her, finally, and he smiles.
She stops there, her hair blowing across her face, sand clinging to her wet feet.
She looks.
She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, they are full of tears.
This time, he is there.
End Chapter Seven