"Holding on in the Dark"

At first Kate thought she was dreaming, that her confusing feelings for Jack had amped up her sleep-relaxed imagination. She knew she was in a cave, taking cover from the storm with Jack, so she understood the reason for her unfamiliar surroundings. But what she couldn't explain was the warm male body pressed up against her, or the tanned arm thrown across her waist. So, initially, she assumed that her imagination was treating her to a very nice dream and sent a little prayer heavenward that she would not wake up anytime soon.

When a piece of wood collapsed into the fire and sent a puff of soot in her direction, she sneezed abruptly and realized with a start that it wasn't a dream. Somehow, sometime during the night, they had ended up snuggled together in this intimate position. But as much as she was enjoying the comfort of his arms, she was certain that Jack would be horribly embarrassed when he woke up; worrying that it would just complicate things. So, she let herself enjoy the contentment and safety that she felt in his sleepy embrace for just a moment longer, before attempting to wiggle out from beneath him. But when she felt him tighten his arm around her waist and tuck her back against him, she froze.

"Jack?" she whispered."Are you awake?"

His response was muffled against her hair, but when she felt his warm breath against the back of her neck, she shivered and felt her pulse leap. Despite her concerns about her own future, and the self-doubt that had plagued her for as long as she'd been on the run, she had never been able to ignore the fact that she was attracted to Jack on many levels. But ever since coming back from finding the caves that day, when she had teased him about checking her out, she hadn't been able determine how he felt about her. In her experience, men were blatant with their interest in her, an interest that seldom seemed to extend beyond a brief physical liaison, but Jack didn't fit that mould. He treated her like a person, not a trophy, or a burden, or a means to an end. And frankly, she didn't know how to read him because of it … it was something she hadn't known in a very long time. Besides, she tried to convince herself, they were stranded on this damn island and romance and dating should be the last thing on either of their minds, even if she had felt that she deserved the fresh start that his respect seemed to offer. So, while she was very surprised by this turn of events, she realized with a start, that she did in fact want this. And as she felt him whisper something against her hair, she realized that she wanted this change in their relationship more than she was afraid of it.

She put her hand hesitantly on his arm and smiled when she felt him tremble in response. She twisted her body around so that she could face him, and felt a moment of awkwardness. She tucked her head underneath his chin ... unsure what to do next, but wanting to see what might be revealed in those expressive eyes of his.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled her head back to look at him as another tremor shook his frame. Her smile quickly faded when she saw that his eyes were closed and his features were taut with pain.

"Jack?" she asked, her voice suddenly sounding loud in the hushed stillness of the cave.

When she moved to sit up, he clutched at her as another, more violent shiver raced through him. It was then that she realized that he wasn't just warm ... he was hot. Alarmed, she put her hand to his forehead, the way her mother used to do to her father, and felt her breath catch in worry at the scorching heat she felt there.

She shook his shoulder, trying to wake him, but he only made a soft moan of pain and hunched over, as if trying to get warm.

"Jack? Wake up, Jack," she said hoarsely, but the cave remained silent, save for the noise of the storm outside. Watching as another chill racked his body, Kate pressed her cool hands to his face and lightly slapped his cheeks, trying anything she could think of to wake him.

"Come on, Jack," she said, fighting to keep the panic from her voice, "you need to wake up now."

He twisted in his sleep and mumbled something that sounded like "so cold".

"Cold?" Grabbing on to the word as if it were a lifeline, Kate concentrated on that. Seeing that the fire was dying down, she snapped a few more boards in half and fed them to the fire, cursing when in her panic she added too much and almost smothered the fire.

"Come on … come on," she chanted, blowing gently on the embers to reawaken the flames. For what seemed like hours, though in truth it was only minutes, she coaxed the fire back up, repeatedly casting worried glances over her shoulder at Jack's inert form. Satisfied that the wood had caught, she scrambled back over to Jack, hitting her bare knee on a loose rock in the process. She winced at the brief pain, but her attention was riveted on Jack. She took at breath and tried to assess the situation. A fever. He just had a fever. Composing herself, she laid a reassuring hand on his chest and struggled to remember what she knew about fevers.

His clothes were still damp from the rain … judging from the rate the fire had burned down she figured that they'd been asleep for several hours … meaning he'd been lying in wet clothes for some time. She knew enough to know that the wet clothes weren't helping matters, and she mentally berated him for not having gotten out of them hours ago. She chewed on the inside of her lip, debating what to do …. it was one thing to undress a man, she wasn't a saint after all, but it was a whole other thing to try and do it to an unconscious one. She felt the edges of her nerves begin to fray and fought to focus on one task at a time, but watching tremor after tremor sweep through his body made distancing her worries difficult.

"Heat," she said to herself, "he needs more heat." Adding yet more wood to the fire, but carefully this time, she stoked it large and hot. Turning back to Jack, she felt her gut twist in misery at feeling so helpless. She never felt helpless … it was not something she was accustomed to feeling. Yet here she was, staring at the one man she knew she would normally have turned to for help in this kind of situation, but in this case, she was supposed to help him.

She leaned in close to him and shook his shoulders, needing him conscious if only for a few moments so that she could work his shirt off. "Come on Jack," she murmured, "come on."

His eyes twitched and fluttered open, but any relief she may have felt at that accomplishment was quickly replaced by dread when she saw his glassy, feverish eyes. Swallowing audibly against the scream of frustration that she felt building up inside her throat, she cupped his face in her hands, trying to keep him from slipping back into unconsciousness.

"Jack … stay with me Jack," she said intensely. When his eyes started to drift shut, she made a sound in the back of her throat that was part growl, part groan and squeezed his face slightly in her grip, saying "No. Jack, you have to stay awake for a minute."

Something in her voice managed to penetrate his feverish world and she could see him struggle to focus on her.

"Kate?" he said, his voice more of a hoarse croak than the steady timbre she had come to know so well.

"Jack, you have a fever …. I need your help," she said urgently as another chill shook his frame.

But her demand fell on deaf ears as he slipped back into unconsciousness, despite her best attempts to the contrary. Kate was determined not to panic. It was only a fever, she repeated to herself. People had fevers all the time and were fine. Jack would be fine. He had to be. There was simply no other alternative in her mind.

With her mouth set in a grim line, she knelt down next to Jack and refused to let his pallor alarm her. It was just that simple. She was an expert at boxing off her emotions, she mentally insisted. Emotions are risky, she reminded herself; just look where they got you before, she thought with a bitter twist to her lips.

"Jack," she said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. He was lying on his side, with his arms crossed tight against his chest, and the chills seemed to be coming non-stop now. "Jack, I need to get these wet clothes off you, okay?"

As she leaned in close to him, she could make out the sound of his teeth chattering, even over the noise of the storm still raging outside. She didn't know if he was even aware of her, but she continued to talk to him anyway; the action helping her, if nothing else. Grasping the hem of his shirt just above his hip, Kate tugged the clammy fabric up, first one side, then the other. The cotton caught where his arms were crossed and she had to struggle with his clenched muscles to pull it free. Grunting from the strain, and sweating as much as from the fire she'd built as from exertion, she finally succeeded in manoeuvring it over his arms and head. Pausing momentarily, she laid her hand along his cheek, the tenderness of the gesture revealing more than she herself realized. Shaking herself back to the task at hand, she tried to silence the little voice inside that dwelt on how surprisingly soft his skin was; even the stubble of his beard was softer than she'd imagined it would be, unconsciously admitting to herself that she had indeed thought about it.

Returning to her business-like approach, she scooted down to his waist, and tugged his belt loose. As she worked the buttons of his fly free, she idly wondered if he realized that one of the buttons was coming loose. She alternately pushed and pulled at the smothering weight of his wet jeans, before finally managing to tug them off with a last jerk, leaving him clad in just his black boxers. She quickly spread his clothes out on the other side of the fire, draping them on the slope of the cave wall, and praying that the heat would dry them quickly.

She turned back to Jack and felt her breath hitch. She'd seen more than her fair share of male flesh, but Jack, even now at his worst, was above and beyond anything she'd seen. That first day on the beach, she'd been too terrified to process the sight of his bare chest, and the time with the bee swarm had been too frantic for more than a hurried glance. But now, there were no such hindrances, save for the guilt she felt in ogling a man incapacitated with fever.

She closed her eyes for a moment to try to regroup, but instead of bolstering her confidence, the action served only to invite an assault from her own insecurities. Resolutely, she looked back over at Jack, who still somehow managed to look strong even while his system was weakened by this illness. She walked over to him, to where he lay still as death except for the chills that shook his frame, and reached for her bag. Digging out the half-empty bottle of water from her pack, she took a small sip before kneeling at his head. She tried to coax him to drink some of the water, but his jaw was clenched tight with agony and chills. She sat back on her heels and fought against the wave of despair that lapped at her consciousness.

She heard him struggle for breath, a hoarse wheezing sound overlaid by a choked moan as his body convulsed with yet another chill. Unable to stand it any longer, she ran her hands gently over his face, wanting to soothe him, but not knowing how. Her hands traced tender caresses over his forehead and jaw, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if she was seeking to give comfort, or to receive it instead. He mumbled something, and though his voice was no more than a whisper, she heard him say her name.

"Jack? I'm here," she said as she leaned in closely.

His eyes struggled open and he looked at her with pained and bewildered eyes.

"I can't get warm," he said with confusion. The simple way he said it, without self-pity or complaint, as if merely stating an unfathomable fact, made her heart break.

"It's okay, Jack. You're going to be fine," she said with determination and far more confidence than she herself felt.

He made no reply, the handful of words just spoken having been enough to sap his strength already. So instead, he just struggled to hold her gaze with his own suffering one.

Her hand never breaking contact with his cheek, she climbed over him, so that he was between her and the fire. Rolling him toward her, she stretched out against him and wrapped her arms around his torso, hoping that the combined effects of the fire and her body heat would bring him some measure of relief.

He resisted for a moment, as if unaccustomed to being the one to receive comfort. But with a sigh that was part tortured groan, part grateful acquiescence, he buried his face in her hair and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his bare chest. Feeling him relax against her, she sighed in relief and twined her bare legs with his, hoping to warm as much of him as she could.

"It'll be okay Jack," she whispered against his neck, as much to herself as to him. She felt his arms tighten around her, but couldn't be sure if it was in acknowledgement of her words, or simply due to the chills that continued to rip through his body. So while he slipped back into unconsciousness, she tried to focus all of her energy and body heat into warming him.

Notes: What Jack is actually suffering from is "Dengue Fever", a very real and very dangerous illness. To give you a bit more info on it, and what Jack is going through, here are some basic facts about it.

Dengue fever is an infectious disease carried by mosquitoes. It is found mostly during and shortly after the rainy season in tropical and subtropical areas of:

-Africa

-Southeast Asia and China

-India

-Middle East

-Caribbean and Central and South America

-Australia and the South and Central Pacific

Dengue fever was previously called 'break-bone fever' because itoften causes severe joint and muscle pain.

Symptoms of typical uncomplicated dengue usually start within 5 to 6 days after a person has been bitten by an infected mosquito. Some common symptoms are:

-Extremely sudden onset of high fever, very often with no warning (or gradual temperature rise) at all.

-The fever may reach 105 degrees Fahrenheit

-Severe headache

-Pain behind the eye

-Severe joint pain

-Severe muscle pain

-Nausea

-Rash : the rash may appear over most of the body 3 to 4 days after the fever begins. (again developing rapidly and spreading in minutes). A second rash may appear later in the disease

Dengue fever can be caused by any one of four types of dengue virus: DEN-1, DEN-2, DEN-3, and DEN-4. Infection with one virus does not protect a person against infection with another. A person can be infected by at least two, if not all four types at different times during a life span, but only once by the same type.

People contract dengue fever from the bite of an infected Aedes mosquito. Mosquitoes become infected when they bite infected humans, and later transmit infection to other people they bite.

A doctor can diagnose dengue fever by performing a blood test. The test will show whether the blood sample contains dengue virus or antibodies to the virus.

There is no specific treatment for dengue, and care limited to symptom management.

If not treated properly, dengue hemorrhagic fever may occur. Dengue hemorrhagic fever is severe and often fatal.