MistyX: I love how your "short" reviews are still like 10 times longer than other people's normal reviews. ;) I love reading your ideas... It's like I'm reading about someone else's fic, since you bring up angles that I haven't even seen.

Goldilocke: Yeah, I'm sure Aunt Meg is past menopause... Hopefully the dumb girl at the pharmacy didn't know the difference, because other than that, I don't know how to make them safer! Lol...

Hope everybody's having a great summer - thanks so much for sticking with me!


Chapter Thirty-One

After the Girl Scout scare, none of them had much appetite left. Jack retreated into the hall, and, using his cell phone, arranged for a cab service to pick him up the next morning and deliver him to the airport. He also made a series of work-related calls, although Kate thought she heard him lower his voice tenderly during one of them. She stopped clearing away pizza boxes and strained her ears to listen, wondering if it was the pediatrician or just his mother. Then she noticed Sawyer watching her, so she quickly went back to cleaning up, using her one free hand awkwardly.

They moved into the living room out of a lack of alternatives, and Jack chose a chair that was a suitable distance from the two of them. They watched the last game of the World Series, which even Jack had forgotten was on that night. It had been a long day.

Kate noticed that Sawyer's head was drooping listlessly, and he was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. He was also unusually quiet, offering only one or two sarcastic comments every half hour or so, much less than his usual pace. She knew it was fatigue. He hadn't slept at all last night... he'd been too worried about her. And unlike most people, whose irritability increased with tiredness, Sawyer's actually diminished. Because his moodiness and short temper were usually on such prominent display when he was wide awake, he tended to lose his grasp on them as his energy waned. She'd noticed this phenomenon before, and, strange as it sounded, it was one of the things that endeared him to her. She smiled at him gently as he jerked his head up once again and made a valiant effort to focus his eyes on the television.

Jack, in contrast, seemed to be excruciatingly alert. He was staring at the screen with an almost desperate tenseness, leaning forward in his chair. And it wasn't even really a close game, Kate thought, feeling confused. Was he one of those guys who were obsessed with baseball? She didn't recall him ever talking about it before, on the island.

The fire was dying down, but neither of them seemed to notice. Kate considered trying to put some more wood on it herself, but she knew that would just make both of them feel guilty, and it didn't seem to be worth it.

Finally, the last out was made, an undramatic, anti-climactic toss from the pitcher to first base, and the game was over. The Red Sox had won. Jack seemed to sag a little, and instead of looking triumphant or relieved, he looked haggard and strangely hurt. But hadn't he wanted them to win? Kate didn't know what to think.

To her surprise, Sawyer suddenly spoke from his position next to her on the couch. She'd thought he'd fallen asleep, but apparently not. His words meant nothing to her, however, so that for a few seconds she wasn't entirely convinced that he wasn't talking in his sleep.

"Guess you and your old man were wrong," he said slowly.

Jack turned toward him. "I'm sorry?" But he looked like he understood.

"'Bout the Sox never winnin' the Series," Sawyer replied.

Jack seemed stunned for a few seconds, but then he laughed bitterly.

"Well, stranger things have happened, Sawyer." He looked pointedly from him to Kate, and then dropped his eyes.

She looked over at Sawyer, questioningly. There was the faintest hint of a smile on his face, but it didn't seem malicious.

"Too bad he ain't here to see it."

"What did you say?" Jack's head snapped back up, and there was something that looked like hatred in his expression. It was a faint undercurrent that Kate had rarely felt in his presence. It seemed to be only Sawyer that brought it out.

"I bet he waited a long time for this night, didn't he?" Sawyer went on, in a thoughtful tone. "Guess he checked out a few months too early."

Jack stood up and took a couple of steps toward the couch. Kate placed her hand lightly on Sawyer's elbow, alarmed.

"You think you know my father? You think because you had a few drinks with him that you know anything at all about him? You don't. Trust me." He seemed to be trying hard to reign in his anger.

Sawyer was taken aback at first, but then his own anger kicked in. He stood up. "Don't think so, huh? Because the way I remember it is, he seemed to think we had a lot in common."

Kate looked from one to the other, bewildered. What were they talking about?

"Look," Jack said, in a low, falsely calm tone. "I appreciate what you did... giving me his message, and everything. Even though you waited till the last possible minute to do it," he added, almost as an aside. "But if you think that gives you the right... The right to..." He stopped, tormented.

"The right to what?" Sawyer asked, sounding genuinely confused. "Hell, Doc, I thought we were just talkin' about baseball! If I'd 'a known you were gonna have a conniption, I wouldn't have brought up the old man at all." He looked around in wonder. "What the hell did you do to the guy, anyway? I'm guessin' it must have been somethin' pretty damn bad if just the mention of him makes you want to step into the boxing ring."

"You son-of-a-bitch," Jack muttered, moving toward him.

"Hey!" Kate stood up quickly. "What the hell is this?"

Jack stopped, looking guilty. They both turned toward Kate, as if they'd forgotten she was even there.

She stared at them closely, puzzled. "Jack?" She waited for some kind of answer.

But he didn't explain. Turning back to Sawyer, he said wearily, "I realize this is your house, all right? Which is why I've been trying my best all day to ignore your little smart-ass comments." Sawyer rolled his eyes, but Jack went on. "But it's obvious that staying here was a bad idea to begin with. So, I'm just gonna go ahead and call a cab, check into a hotel. I think it'll be the best thing for all of us. I'm sorry, Kate," he added, noticing how disappointed she looked.

It was clear that Sawyer's first instinct was to be relieved at this news, but then he, too, noticed Kate's expression. He looked at her for a second, and then said harshly, "Don't bother. I'm goin' to bed." He angled his head toward Jack. "So you might as well save yourself the trip."

Kate looked at Jack with veiled hopefulness. He sighed loudly, but he seemed to give in.

"You comin' up?" Sawyer asked Kate as he started toward the door. There was a challenge in the words, but he also appeared worried. He waited tensely.

She felt terrible, but she already knew what answer she would give. Looking down at the floor, she said, "I've been sleeping off and on all day, so I'm not really... I'm not really tired yet," she finished lamely. She met his eyes, trying to soften the impact.

His disappointment in her was apparent. "Yeah," he said, turning away with a bitter smile, as if this was exactly what he'd expected to hear. "You two enjoy your little heart-to-heart, then. I'm sure you been waitin' around for it all day." Casting back one last scornful look that took in both of them at once, he disappeared into the hall.

Kate and Jack looked at each other. Then Kate seemed to make a decision. She couldn't let him go off like that. "I'll be right back," she said softly, following him out.

He was just starting to climb the stairs when she stopped him. "Sawyer."

Turning around, he came back down to the base of the staircase, looking exhausted. "What?"

She gazed at him imploringly, although she could tell he didn't want to look her in the eyes. "I'll be right up." She made herself sound firm, convincing.

He didn't say anything, but he was softening towards her, she could feel it.

"Hey," she said, forcing him to look at her. "I won't be long, I promise."

Breathing out slowly, he brought his hands up and smoothed her hair back from her face on both sides. "If I come back down here and catch you two playin' Monopoly..." he muttered threateningly.

She flashed him a bright, laughing smile. Leaning her forehead against his chest for a second, she tilted back and whispered, still smiling, "No Monopoly. Got it."

They were just outside the living room, and she didn't know if Jack could hear them from there or not, or what he would make of such a bizarre warning if he could. But she didn't really care.

Now Sawyer leaned down to kiss her - a deep, slow, lingering kiss that had so much force behind it that she was forced to lean against the stair banister to avoid toppling over backward. For a few seconds, during the peak of that kiss, she was tempted to go upstairs with him.

He finally pulled back and seemed to be drinking in her appearance as if he thought he might never see her again. Maybe he thought he wouldn't, she realized with a poignant sadness. He looked scared to death, as if, with Jack here, all bets were off. And there was absolutely nothing she could say that would make him feel any different.

She touched his cheek lightly, saying in a whisper, "Get some sleep."

He glanced anxiously toward the door of the living room one more time, then squeezed her hand and turned to head upstairs. She hung onto his fingers for a few seconds, only dropping them when he had gone up so far that she was forced to.

She watched him go, and then, with a deep breath, turned back into the living room.


Jack had finally noticed that the fire was dying down, so he spent a few minutes in building it back up. Kate sat down near the hearth, watching him, trying to ignore the dull ache that was starting to travel up the length of her arm. When he'd piled on enough wood, the blaze roared up, and the room felt warmer almost immediately.

"You make a good fire," Kate said appreciatively.

He glanced at her. "Well, I had a lot of practice." Sitting down, he added, "I guess we all did, didn't we?"

"Yeah," she agreed, quietly.

He studied her for a second. "It's probably about time for a few of those pain pills."

She considered refusing them, but decided against it. He shook a few from the bottle and handed them across to her. She picked up her glass from earlier in the day, which still had some water left at the bottom.

"Let me get you some more," he offered.

"It's fine," she protested, taking the pills quickly before he could grab the glass. After she'd swallowed them, she waited a second. There seemed to be no easy way to begin this conversation.

In a low, soft voice, she inquired, "What was that about, Jack?"

"What was what about?"

She continued to stare at him, knowing that he didn't really need her to clarify.

Finally, he sighed. "Back in Sydney, Sawyer...met my dad. At a bar. It must have been a few days before the plane took off." He paused. "He's never told you about this?"

"No," she said, shocked. "I... I had no idea." She looked away, thinking. "But you said... Didn't you say your dad died, in Sydney?"

"Yeah," Jack said, looking a little sick. "He did. It must have been right after that."

Slowly, she said, "Then that means that Sawyer..."

"Was probably one of the last people to talk to him," Jack finished for her. He almost looked like he wanted to laugh. "The irony, huh?"

Kate smiled wanly, her eyes still sad.

"But, despite everything, I'm glad he was there," he said somewhat grudgingly. "Since my dad was apparently doing his usual self-pitying routine, he must have started a conversation about how screwed-up his life was... and it naturally came around to me." He shook his head, imagining the scene. "I can just hear him." After a few seconds, Jack roused himself and went on. "Anyway, what he told Sawyer... what he said about me... It was something that I needed to hear. Something I'll remember till the day I die. If I'm lucky, the only words of Sawyer's I'll remember till the day I die," he added with a wry look. "So, I'm grateful to him for that, at least."

The earlier confrontation was finally beginning to make sense to Kate now, the pieces falling into place. She nodded in understanding.

Jack continued. "I'm sorry about what happened before. I never should have reacted like that... I really don't know what came over me." He thought for a second. "Maybe it's because he's right... my dad should have been around for that game. He waited his whole life to see that. If it hadn't been for me, he might have."

"I don't understand," Kate said, confused. "You weren't even there when he died... How could you have stopped it?"

For a while he didn't say anything, and he seemed to be debating with himself whether he wanted to explain or not. Finally, he came to a decision. Using as few words as possible, he told her in a matter-of-fact voice. "He was operating under the influence of alcohol at the hospital where we both worked, and he made a mistake. The patient died. I was the only one who knew why, and during the investigation, I turned him in. He lost his job, and...pretty much everything else."

"Jack," Kate whispered, horrified and sympathetic at once. She hadn't had any idea. For a moment, the enormity of it rested on her, numbing her, and she didn't know what else to say. They sat in silence.

Eventually, she spoke in a soft voice. "It was the right thing to do."

Then, with a hint of irony, she added, "I realize how ridiculous those words must sound coming from me."

Jack shook his slightly. "They don't, actually."

She looked down, waiting for a second. There was something she needed to ask, and since the conversation had let to it naturally, it seemed like as good a time as any.

"Speaking of doing the right thing," she began.

"Kate," he said with dread, obviously seeing where she was going with this.

But she plunged ahead. "The last time you were here... I heard you tell Sawyer that you thought I should turn myself in..that it was my best option. Is that..." She stopped, then forced herself to go on. "Do you still believe that?"

He sighed, and it was clear that he'd rather do anything in the world than answer this question. "Honestly.. in the abstract... Yes. If I was reading your case history, or hearing about it on the news, or on America's Most Wanted... then I'd say you'd be crazy not to."

She nodded in an attempt at objectivity, trying to keep tears from forming.

"But when I'm actually sitting here in front of you, looking at you.. And you're not some serial number or face on a wanted poster... You're just...Kate." He smiled sadly. "Then the thought of you spending the best years of your life in prison makes me sick to my stomach."

"So is that a yes or a no?" she asked with a faint smile, the tears even closer to the surface now.

He considered, but all he said was, "Maybe I'm not the best person to answer that question."

She decided to let him off the hook. In the end, it probably wasn't a question she really wanted the answer to, anyway.

For a while, they didn't speak. The crackling of the fire and the ticking of the clock above on the mantel were the only sounds in the room.

Jack looked around him, curiously. "This house must be pretty old."

"It was built in 1918," she said, a little proudly. The words had a funny echo in her ears, and she realized, after a few seconds, that they were the same ones she and Sawyer had exchanged on the first night she'd stayed here. How strange that it now fell to her to inform someone else about the house's age in such a knowing, proprietary way.

He continued to examine the room. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that you did the furniture arrangement in here."

She laughed. "Good guess. You wouldn't believe how bad it looked, before."

"If Sawyer had anything to do with it, I can only imagine."

She didn't say anything for a minute, but then began in a hesitating manner. "I know how crazy this must seem, Jack... How it all must look to you." It was abundantly clear that she was no longer talking about the furniture. "I wish there was some way I could explain it... that would make sense."

He seemed to be in deep thought. After a short lapse, he looked at her with hurt, somehow accusing eyes. "Why didn't you come to me, Kate?"

What she'd expected from him was the kind of response she'd grown accustomed to in the past, something like, "You don't have to explain," or a similar reassuring phrase. But this was a question she never would have predicted, and she couldn't hide the fact that it caught her off guard.

He must have seen how startled she was, because he hastened to explain. "I know it's not something I should ask, but I figured since I've already made a fool of myself tonight, I don't have anything left to lose. And I'd like to know," he finished simply. The words that hung in the air, unsaid, were You owe me that, at least. She could sense their presence even though he hadn't spoken them.

Closing her eyes briefly, she said in a quiet voice, "Sawyer wanted to know the same thing when I showed up here."

"And what did you tell him?"

She considered saying that she couldn't remember, or that she hadn't told him anything, but was it really worth the effort? Jack wouldn't press her, she knew, but what was the point of keeping it from him?

"I told him that... I didn't want to get you involved in this."

Jack looked almost amused. "I'm sure that went over well."

Kate smiled a little in memory. Taking a deep breath, she tried to finish honestly. "And I told him that..." She stopped, wishing this wasn't so brutally painful. She didn't know how to go on without hurting him.

"That you didn't know if you could trust me?" Jack supplied, with a faintly bitter smile.

She dropped her eyes, both relieved and disheartened by the accuracy of his guess. She didn't say anything. What could she say?

"I know it doesn't make any difference now, but... for the record? You could have." He watched her closely.

She brushed her sleeve quickly across her cheek, where a tear had fallen despite her vigilance.

"I'm not trying to upset you, Kate," he said gently. "It just occurred to me earlier to wonder... If you had come to me, would this be us?" He looked around the room again, with a thoughtful air. "Would we have the dog, and the broken thermostat, and the visiting aunt?" His tone sounded almost joking, but his eyes gave the opposite impression.

"You deserve so much better than me, Jack," she said, shaking her head, her voice threatening to break.

"But Sawyer doesn't?" he asked with slight laugh.

"No," she said, with a genuine smile. "He doesn't. We deserve each other." She met his eyes, a hint of mirth in her expression.

Luckily, Jack hadn't lost his sense of humor, either. "Forgive me, Kate, but that doesn't sound very promising."

Still smiling a little, she looked away. "I don't mean it like that. It's just... It's hard to explain."

"Would it help if I'd killed somebody?"

"Jack." Her voice was barely even a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking like he meant it. "I'll be the first to admit that I've never been good at losing."

"You haven't lost me."

He didn't respond to this directly, since it so obviously was untrue. "Maybe I'm being crazy, anyway. I mean, maybe I'm only imagining that there was ever anything there to begin with. I thought there was... Or at least the potential for it. But maybe I was wrong."

"You weren't wrong," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"I guess it was just that it was always so easy to talk to you," he went on, almost to himself. "Like we'd known each other forever. It still feels that way. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," she agreed, softly. "In some ways, I have known you forever."

He looked a little confused by this, but he didn't ask her to clarify.

"One thing's for sure, though." He stared at her with forthrightness. "I'll never know anybody else like you."

She looked away, bitterly. "You should be thankful for that."

He continued to gaze at her, thoughtfully, until she turned back to him.

"I'm not," he said simply.

Then he looked into the fire for a minute. After an interval, he spoke again, but his voice sounded different - tired, but also calm, almost tranquil.

"Are you happy, Kate?"

He continued to stare into the flames, waiting for her answer.

She decided to be completely truthful. "As happy as I ever can be, considering... the way things are."

He nodded.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Now he looked up, needing to see the confirmation in her face as well as hear it in her response.

She swallowed hard and felt herself tear up again. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she met his gaze head on. "Yeah." She paused, and her face softened a little. "I am."

It was clear that the answer was painful to him, but he still managed to give her a small, weak smile. "Then that's all that matters, right?"

She waited a second, then nodded. "Right."

The silence stretched out between them, and Kate noticed for the first time that she was exhausted. Jack seemed to notice it at the same instant.

"It's been a long day," he said sympathetically. "I think maybe we should both try to get some sleep."

"I'll show you where your room is," she said quietly, standing up.

Once upstairs, she flipped on the light in the bedroom she'd once slept in and discovered, to her embarrassment, that there were no sheets on the bed.

"Just a second," she said. She went to the hall closet and, with difficulty, pulled the sheets down with her left arm.

Jack took the bundle from her when she re-entered the room and began to make the bed. Unable to prevent herself, Kate started to help him from the other side.

"I'll do this, Kate," he said gently. "Don't worry about it. I've made a bed before, you know."

"I know," she said, refusing to stop. "I just feel like an idiot. I should have put them on when I washed them yesterday, but I stuck them in the closet instead..." She sounded annoyed with herself.

"You really live here, don't you?" He seemed both amused and sad at the same time.

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"I mean, you're not just staying here. This is your house." There was something about the way he said the words that sounded resigned and defeated.

She hooked the fitted sheet around the corner of the mattress, realizing that he was right. It was the first time the idea had occurred to her, and it gave her a feeling she'd never experienced before.

"I guess so," she said in a musing voice.

They continued to make the bed, one on each side, pulling up the sheets and fitting them, tucking them in with a perfect, matched rhythm. It was an easy, friendly cooperation, and she was reminded for a brief instant of the day she and Sawyer had been stacking wood on the porch, and the buzz of excited, electric competition that had driven them to try to outdo each other. The contrast couldn't be more striking.

When it was finished, there didn't seem to be anything left to say. They told each other good-night, but then Kate paused in the doorway, remembering something.

"What was it that you wanted to say, earlier? When Sawyer came back with the prescriptions and interrupted you?"

"Oh," he said, remembering now. "I just... I wanted to apologize."

"For what?"

"For something I should have apologized for a long time ago. Right after it happened, in fact."

She looked like she didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"I accused you of trying to poison Michael. Or implied an accusation which is the same thing. And I'm sorry for that. I never should have leaped to that conclusion. I know you better than that." He gave her an open, sincere look.

Kate's expression, however, gradually changed from one of curiosity to one of shame and misery. She looked down at the floor, tormented. She could accept the apology and let him continue to think that he'd been in the wrong. But on an almost masochistic level, she needed for him to know the truth in order to prove her point. Especially now.

He watched her, not understanding why she looked so upset. "What is it?"

She spoke softly, but she didn't stammer or hesitate. "It was my idea." She looked up at him. "I told Sun to do it."

At first he didn't seem to believe her, but then the disillusionment settled in. He shook his head, not able to hide how disappointed he was.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it, relinquishing something. "Don't be. It's all in the past, isn't it?" Obviously, he wasn't just referring to the poisoning, but to much more between them that was now in the past.

"Yeah," she said, trying to give him a smile, but not succeeding very well.

"Goodnight, Kate."

"Night, Jack," she responded sadly. She broke their gaze for what felt like the last time and closed the door behind her.

Now she stood in the hallway between the two bedrooms. Taking a second to compose herself and get her emotions in check, she crossed the hall and opened Sawyer's door.

"Stop pretending to be asleep," she said after she'd shut it behind her. "I know you're not."

"Like hell you do," he muttered into his pillow.

She smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Come and help me get undressed."

"Well now," he said, dragging himself up and flipping on the lamp next to him on the nightstand. "That's the kinda job I don't mind doin'."

With unexpected delicacy, he helped pull her jeans off. She started to remove the sling in order to get to her shirt, but he stopped her.

"Hold on." In a complicated maneuver that she couldn't even follow, he managed to get both her shirt and her bra off while barely disturbing the sling at all.

She looked at him in surprise. "You act like you've done this before."

He grinned secretively. "You really wanna know?"

"No," she said quickly, with a wry smile. "Don't ever tell me that story."

He started to help her pull on a pajama top, but then stopped, noticing the side of her bicep. "Jesus... look at this! Looks like you got kicked by a damn horse." He was referring to the bruise that had formed where the three shots had gone in.

"Jack said that might happen. It's normal."

"Normal," he muttered with scorn. "Maybe if he hadn't thrown 'em in like he was playin' darts..."

She sighed.

Maybe he felt bad for the remark, because he leaned over and kissed the bruised area, so lightly that it caused her to break out in chills. He trailed kisses up over her shoulder to her neck, gradually increasing in pressure.

"Sawyer," she said warningly.

"What?" he asked, pulling her hair back so he could have easier access to the area below her ear.

"Are you kidding me? Jack's right across the hall!" she whispered.

"So?"

"You're disgusting," she said, shaking her head and laughing as if she wasn't surprised.

"We can keep it down, can't we?" he asked with a gleam in his eye.

While he went back to kissing her, she tried to reason with him. "We're both exhausted... My arm is in a sling, and I'm so hopped up on painkillers that I probably wouldn't even be able to feel anything."

"Then I guess you won't have to worry about makin' any noise, now, will ya?"

"I can't believe you," she groaned, still laughing. She pulled away from him, holding him at bay with her good arm. Growing more serious, she said firmly, "I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise."

"Yeah," he said sarcastically, flopping back onto the bed. "If you don't decide to run off with the doc, that is."

"How can you even joke about something like that?

"What makes you think it's a joke?"

Pulling herself over to him, she leaned onto his chest, looking directly into his eyes. The fear wasn't gone from them yet, not completely.

"When are you gonna get it through your head that I've already made my choice? It was made the second I climbed through your stupid window... And if you weren't so pathetically insecure maybe you would have already realized that."

He rolled his eyes a little, but he was listening intently.

Enunciating her words clearly, forcefully, she spoke just barely above a whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She leaned down to kiss him, and her earlier objections were completely forgotten.


If Jack heard anything at all that night, he refused to acknowledge it, even to himself.