Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.
Her wrists ached. Her heart raced a horrible tattoo across her skull, clogging her mind, making her unable to focus. Her eyes were bleary.
"Sorry about that, folks. Please stay seated and the stewardesses will be around shortly to make sure you are alright. We will be landing shortly."
She blinked her eyes open. Beside her, the Marshall groaned into his breathing mask, a hand coming up to touch his bloodied forehead. People were talking, whispering, crying. But the plane was steady. The turbulence had passed. Kate pressed her face to the window, staring out across the wide expanse of sea, to the small island below, the mountaintops bright emerald in the sunlight. They were flying past it. Soon, it would all be a distant memory. Kate felt the blood rush from her head. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
"Ma'am? MA'AM?" Kate's head snapped up, staring at the smiling stewardess. "If you could just hold this gauze, I need to get some bandages, and we'll get your friend all fixed up." Kate numbly pressed her hand against the Marshall's head.
"Fixed?" she murmured. Yeah, the plane was fixed. They weren't crashing. Was it all a bad dream? Something in the orange juice? The plane hit a tiny pocket of air and Kate felt it shake, the sides gave an ominous groan, and hope, unbidden and new, bloomed into her chest. She knew it was wrong, that it was an awful thought, that she secretly wished for them to crash. But if they didn't, she'd be going to jail. She'd have no chance. But then, tall the people that perished would live. The people at the bottom of the waterfall, Boone, the Marshall. But if they didn't crash, if they landed in LAX, she would be locked up. She glanced around the plane, searching for a familiar face. She didn't recognize anyone. Hope began to wither, to die.
She was at a crossroads, once again. If they crashed, people would die. If they didn't, she'd go to jail. Who knows what would happen to the rest of the survivors. Boone wouldn't die, sure, but Shannon would never meet Sayid. Claire would never have been kidnapped, sure, but she'd be giving her baby up for adoption. There lives had changed on that island. But was it for the better?
The Marshall dragged her to baggage claim, by the chain attached to her handcuffs, like a dog on a leash. Kate kept hoping it was all some terrible dream, but the plane had landed safely, and she had been the last to embark. Now, people stared at her, sour looks on their faces as they saw the handcuffs. Kate kept looking, searching the faces in the sea of people at the airport, hoping to meet eyes with someone that would recognize her, that would remember…
Their baggage hadn't arrived yet. She was forced to stand back from the conveyor, the Marshall chatting at her the whole time, his face twisted into a hateful scowl. Kate kept her eyes averted, staring, boring holes into the back of Jack's head. He had loosened his tie, his jacket was over his shoulder, waiting patiently for the luggage. His face was worn, tired, older than it had ever appeared on the island. She knew that whatever was waiting for him here was not something pleasant. He turned slightly, feeling her eyes on him, glimpsing her face…then his eyes dropped to her handcuffs, flew back to her face, surprised, then he turned around, away. Kate had to force back tears. She was borderline hysterical, now, frantic almost. Walt was trying to wander off from Michael, who grabbed the back of his shirt and scolded him, loudly. Jin had Sun by the arm, muttering at her in Korean and shooting Michael dark looks for raising his voice. Hurley was bopping along to his headphones, oblivious to everything around him. Claire was rubbing her belly, slowly, her face drawn, sad. Charlie stood beside her, tapping his fingers impatiently on the metal of the conveyor, then shifting foot to foot, then staring at the clock, his face red and sweaty. Shannon was standing a little ways back, filing her nails, looking bored, while Boone waited for their luggage, his face set in a sneer. It startled her for a minute, to see him healthy and whole, but he tossed her a disdainful look, his lip curling, and turned away. Sayid was reading an Arabic newspaper, curly head down, his face strained. She couldn't find Locke or Sawyer anywhere.
The conveyor started up, and she turned back to look at the people she had come to call friends. Jin pushed against Hurley, attempting to grab a black suitcase that came around.
"Whoa, dude, chill," Hurley said, backing up so that his large frame didn't block the way. Jin said something, grabbed the case, and continued to wait. Further down the line, Claire struggled with her suitcase, her large belly preventing her from grasping it, and Charlie let it go on by, grabbing his guitar case as it went past. Sayid glanced up from his newspaper, noticing Shannon standing near him, and looked away. It was as if they had never known each other, like that hadn't shared experiences together that would connect people like nothing else could.
The marshal moved forward and grabbed his metal case containing his five guns. Kate felt her heart thud to stop. This was it then. This was how it all ended. He tugged at her, the handcuffs biting into her flesh.
"Jack!" she screamed. He turned, looking at her, eyebrows forming a furrowed line across his brow. "It's me, Kate!" Others were turning to look at her now. "Hurley," she pleaded.
"How do you know my name?" Jack demanded.
"Because we crashed. The plane crashed and we were the survivors. You too, Hurley, and Jin and Sun, Shannon and Boone, and Charlie, and Claire, and Michael and Walt and Locke and Sawyer. And I went through the hatch and-" She was cut off when the marshal tugged at her.
"Sorry about that, folks. Little Ms. Dodd here likes to cause trouble. We'll just be going now."
"No!" She shrieked, flinging herself towards Jack. "Please," she pleaded, her voice dropping. "Please remember."
He looked away. Kate felt crushed, she couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air. The Marshall forcibly pulled her forward and Kate fell to the ground, her knees and elbows hitting hard enough to cause her to see spots. As the marshal forced her to her feet, she saw Locke, sitting in a wheelchair. She stared at him a moment, and he smiled at her, showing an orange rind in his teeth. The same, stupid smile he had when she had taken the shoes off of the dead body. Then she was being half-dragged as the marshal grabbed her arm, her feet dragging on the floor.
She saw Sawyer, then, lounging against a pole looking bored. She made a move towards him and the marshal tugged her back, his gun pressed against her side now. Kate linked eyes with Sawyer, willing him to remember, to help her. He stared at her, his face angry, then suddenly it softened, changed. He touched his mouth, staring at her in wonder.
"Freckles?"
