Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Spoilers: Up to Exodus part II
A/N: Yep this is Jack/Kate and I hate myself just a little bit for it. The opening line just appeared and I had to write it. Future Fic, Kate's PoV. I might do a Jack companion piece but yeah, read, enjoy, let me know what you think.
"I want to see my daughter."
She makes a point of staring at the hidden camera in the corner of the room, fully aware that she is being monitored every waking moment, aware that they can hear her now as clearly as if they were in the room.
"I want to see my daughter." She repeats firmly, unrelenting, making the same request she has made for the last four hours.
She has been here, in this small grey room for eighty-four hours, with only a steel cot in the corner and a toilet. It reminds her of the hatch they found in the jungle, the one Locke convinced them to open (a decision that would haunt them all until their last day on the island) and her skin claws at the memories, wanting with a new sort of desperation to escape, to return to her daughter and her, boyfriend? Husband? Lover? She never has been sure what to call Jack…
"I want to see my daughter?"
She thinks of her daughter, only four months old, and her breasts ache, still heavy with milk. She needs to see her daughter, breathe in her downy black curls and kiss sleepy brown eyes. Her little Katherine. She bites down on her lip, hard and then harder, imagining the state they must be in, her daughter and Jack, Jack who managed to always be a good doctor and leader but could only ever devote so much time to his daughter, mostly at night, making him expert at putting her down for naps. But she knows Kathy won't sleep now, no matter how much Daddy bounces and rubs her back and kisses her brow.
Not when there's so much out of place, the buzz of electric lighting, baby formula and whatever other medication the doctors have insisted Kathy needs, the constant flash and bustle of reporters, hungry to see the island born baby…the one that survived.
Jack won't comfort her, won't know how. He'll be lost and guilty, swamped by the paper work and reporters and the ordeal of trying to get her out (this one she adds no matter how terrible she feels at the mental rebuttal that maybe Jack has moved on, baby and all, left her in her little grey cell to rot).
"I want to see my daughter."
Just once, she thinks, just once. So that she might whisper a thousand 'I love you's into the soft shells of her daughter's ears, to press a thousand kisses into her skin, to brand her with all the love and care and devotion her own mother hardly showed her. She needs to see them one last time so that she might tell Jack how to sooth Kathy when she gets fussy after meals, how to scratch her tummy in a counter clockwise motion to make her smile, the perfect way to hold their daughter so that she might see the sky and hear his heartbeat, both of which please and comfort her (and, if she can work up the courage, she will tell him she loves him and ask him to forgive her.).
After which, she tells herself, she'll face whatever fate is being decided for her behind the concrete door of her cell (Even after seven years on the island, Kate has not stopped lying).
What she does not think is that they, she was suppose to be her redemption, her second chance, Fate's forgiveness for what shedid to Tom, her mother, to Jack himself.
"I want to see my family." This time her voice breaks.
End
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