"Caging the Beasts"
Once full dark had settled in, the fire had started to die down and Kate had gotten up to add more wood to the flames. Jack had been immediately aware of her absence, and surprised by just how much he missed the warmth from her body. He'd slid off the log and sat on the ground, trying to get closer to the little fire. Leaning back against the log, he'd stared into the flames as Kate came back and sat down next to him. Neither of them had spoken since she offered her support, but at least the silence was a companionable one.
Now, hours later, he admitted that he wouldn't have known what to say. Even if he could have allowed himself to confide in her, he'd never been any good at talking about his problems. 'Opening up' had never been encouraged in his family … no, his family preferred the time honoured tradition of keeping your feelings locked up tight in a box and hidden away in the back of your mental closet. The therapist he had gone to hadn't been much help either; maybe it was because as a doctor he wasn't comfortable being a 'patient', or maybe the emotionless "hmmm", "ah-ha" and "how do you feel about that" clichés had put him off. In either case, he always felt worse and somehow cheated afterwards.
At some point during the night, Kate had fallen asleep and had her head resting on his shoulder. He felt a tiny smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he listened to her soft kitten like snores. There was an intimacy in knowing that about someone; glimpsing something so ordinary and private. Her neck was cocked at an awkward angle, though, and he knew she'd be stiff in the morning.
"Kate," he whispered, nudging her gently. She made a little noise of protest in her sleep, and snuggled closer on his shoulder. He didn't have the heart to wake her, so he gently eased her down so that her head was resting on his lap. Her hair had fallen across her face and a curl was caught in the seam of her lips. He softly brushed it back and grinned as she scrunched her face up at the ticklish sensation, slipping into an even deeper sleep.
At least someone was able to rest, he mused. He admired the work Kate did and as much as he wished that she'd moved up to the caves, he did feel better knowing that she was there to keep an eye on the beach camp. But he worried that she wasn't taking care of herself. He could see that she'd lost weight; weight she could ill afford to lose. While they were getting better at catching fish, there still wasn't much to go around and Sayid had mentioned that Kate often gave up her share for the others. She wasn't getting enough protein, he thought to himself. With all the work she did and the energy she used carrying water back to the beach, she needed more. He considered pressuring Locke to get more boar, but he didn't even know if she'd eat it. Besides, Locke was just one man and it wasn't fair to him to expect him to feed over 40 people.
He tipped his head back against the log and stared up at the night sky. He watched the dark silhouettes of clouds drift past the sliver of moon, but was too consumed with the worries of survival, to really even see them.
(later)
She came awake in stages. She had heard an odd popping noise, but was reluctant to give up her warm, comfy pillow. Deciding the noise was just the sound of a shifting log, she burrowed back into her pillow, sliding a hand underneath the soft denim. Denim? She thought with confusion. That wasn't right … her pillow was a wadded up nylon jacket she'd found in the wreckage. She tried to clear her sluggish mind and opened her eyes. Squinting in the dim glow of the dying fire she saw legs. Blinking in bewilderment she turned her head and saw a man's profile. Jack. She had fallen asleep with her head on Jack's lap?
"Jack?" she whispered.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't immediately hear her..
"Jack?" she said again, louder.
Coming back to reality, Jack looked down at the sound of his name being called, feeling a bit like a school boy caught daydreaming in class. He saw Kate blinking owlishly at him, the glowing embers of the fire bathing her face in a rosy glow.
"Go back to sleep, Kate. There's still a few hours before daylight." he said softly.
She nodded, still half asleep, at his assessment. "Why aren't you asleep?" she mumbled groggily, the thought of moving her head never even entering her mind.
He unconsciously smoothed a strand of hair out of her eyes and gave a small, wistful smile. "I don't sleep much anymore. It's easier not to."
She wanted to ask him why, but she couldn't keep her eyes open as she felt sleep coaxing her back. She started to form the words, but was asleep before she could ever utter them.
He had seen the question forming in her mind: 'Why'. He didn't really know the answer to that. Was he trying to avoid waking up? He knew the mornings were always the worst for him. He would lay there, feeling crushed by the trials he knew each day would bring. The expectations people had of him made him feel like an Atlas impostor, straining under the weight of the world, and he didn't know if he had much more strength left in him.
His father was right. He didn't have what it takes to make decisions. He couldn't distance himself from them; he took everything to heart. And his heart, his very soul was failing him, the same as an alcoholic's liver. The bad parts stuck to him, poisoning him, clogging his emotional arteries.
His dreams were plagued by restless thoughts and endless worries, leaving him more exhausted than before. So he tried not to sleep; tried to put off the mornings. As a doctor, he knew he was only making things worse for himself. As Jack, he just didn't care anymore. He was so very tired; tired of fighting, tired of struggling to survive, tired of living.
But, as he watched Kate sleep, he felt some measure of peace, as though he had inched back from the edge of his emotional ledge. Whether it was the warmth seeping from her body into his, or the soothing sound of her breathing, he felt himself calming down; the beasts that prowled his thoughts, once again caged. But for how long, he wondered.