He sat in front of the fire with his arms resting on his bent knees, staring at his hands. They were hands he didn't recognize anymore. Hands that were supposed to heal the sick, but had instead been used to smother a man to death. Hands that had signed the death warrant on his father's career and ultimately led to his death. Hands that did nothing to stop the torture of another human. It didn't matter that the man had been dying an agonizing death and was begging to be euthanised. Nor did it matter that he'd probably saved the lives of future patients by turning his father in. And the fact that he was desperate to get a girl's medication did nothing to ease his guilt over the torture. No, his guilt would not allow him to see any of that. He'd told Kate that they all deserved to start over, to start fresh. But his start was anything but fresh.
He raked his fingers over his closely cropped hair and pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead, trying to stop the dull ache that had plagued him for weeks. Sighing, he looked with envy at the peacefully sleeping figures scattered throughout the caves. He was the only one awake … as always, unable to sleep, to find any comforting rest. He closed his eyes and hung his head, allowing himself to momentarily succumb to the sheer despair that was always with him … threatening to swallow him whole.
Someone coughed in their sleep, pulling him back from his desolate thoughts. He shook his head as if to shake off the darkness; mentally chastising himself for his self pity. These people were depending on him, God help them all. He stood up and tossed another log on the fire, wincing at the sudden flare of light. Moving quietly, he filled a bottle with water from the spring and pressed it against the back of his neck, hoping the cool pressure would ease the throbbing in his skull.
Even though he knew it would be futile, he went back to his "bed" and lay down, hoping for even just a few minutes sleep. He fondly remembered his med school days, when he could snatch a few hours of sleep on the lumpy couch in the hospital's staff lounge, despite the constant noise and commotion around him. And yet here, where there were no distractions, he was unable to get any real sleep. His brain just continued to run in circles; worrying about Claire and her baby, about Charlie and his withdrawal, about how Kate was faring down at the beach. He wished she'd moved up here … they, he corrected himself. He wished they had moved up here. Didn't she - they realize how much safer it was here?
He draped his arm across his eyes and thought about Kate. He couldn't for the life of him figure her out. Just when he thought he was getting to know her, she would pull back. He supposed that that came with the territory, when you lived the life she had in recent years. He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the thought of her as a criminal … as a murderer. It wasn't that he didn't think she was strong enough; she proven herself stronger than many of the men here. It was more that she just didn't seem the type. He snorted at his naivety; who was he to judge if a person was a criminal? He sure wasn't a good judge of his father, that's for sure. His father's lies still hurt him … the sting of emotional betrayal sharp and deep. Maybe that's why he felt so guilty about his role in his father's death, he reflected. While he never would have wished his father dead, he had been sick with anger when he realized how skilfully his father had played him. And his anger and guilt never had a chance to be resolved, his father dying before Jack could come to terms.
Dragging his mind back from the unpleasant memories, he called up the image of chestnut curls and pensive eyes. He knew now, why he had reacted to Kate's lies about the marshal's case … it had reminded him of his father's manipulations. So with a conscious effort, he separated Kate's actions from his father's. Of course she had secrets and a past she didn't want to discuss. Didn't he as well? Didn't they all? He idly wondered what she would think if she knew what he'd almost done … what he'd tried to do. Would she consider him weak for wanting to give in and end the empty pit that had become his life? Or would she understand and offer him compassion? He'd never met anyone like her. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever known, but she had something inside her … an inner glow that transformed her pretty features into a living work of art and would leave him breathless and tongue tied. He sighed deeply. He was stranded on this Godforsaken island, dodging boars and who knew what else, with a community of survivors looking to him for direction, and yet his thoughts still drifted back to her. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame … and he knew that if he wasn't careful, he'd get burned to a crisp. And Sawyer would be right there to rub his nose in it.
As if he didn't have enough to worry about, he snorted. Sawyer seemed to make it his life's work to cause trouble. If he wasn't in the middle of a mess, he was there on the sidelines, adding gasoline to the fire. And yet Kate, for some reason, seemed willing to tolerate his company. Was it her ability to see the goodness in even the most flawed soul, or was it something more. He grimaced at the thought of her having an attraction to Sawyer. He convinced himself that it was concern for her safety and not jealously that made his gut twist. But he knew, deep down, that she could take care of herself, no matter what the scheming Southerner tried, so his concerns were foolish. Jack laid no claim on Kate, but he couldn't deny feeling that despite her past, she deserved somebody better than Sawyer. Not that he felt he was that great a catch anymore. No, Kate deserved better than him; better than the man he'd become since that day in the hospital meeting room. Maybe before, when he still had dreams and a future, but not now. Not this hollowed out shell that once was a decent human being.
He heard the sounds of people stirring and sighed. Realizing that another sleepless night had passed, he braced himself for another trying day.