Author's Notes: I've been worried about this chapter, that people will be disappointed with it. But this is how it came out. As for people mentioning this being the sequel with "Movie Magic", there is a direct sequel which I will post after I have finished this. This is sort of an interlude, I suppose. It's hard to explain, I'm rambling, merely because I am totally avoiding writing an essay on Russian history.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it really does make my day so much better.

She's taken back to the United States in hand cuffs. They all want to know exactly what happened to the Marshall who was escorting her when the plane went down. And when she tells the truth, they don't believe her, she gives them names. Jack Shepard treated him for three days before he died. Hugo Reyes helped Jack bandage him up. Everyone heard him scream in pain.

She leaves Sawyer out of it.

They can't charge her for the murder of the Marshall when witness statements start pouring in from the other survivors. But she was a condemned woman long before now. Four million dollars is a lot of money that she doesn't have, so she rejects bail and spends months in a four by eight cell, forgetting what the night sky looked like when there's nothing to block it out.

Her day in court seemed to be put back too many times. She wondered what was going on in the free world, but decided not to care. She choses just to be; everyone is curious about Kate Austin, the fugitive who survived a plane crash and lived on a tropical island for two years.

But eventually, there is nothing stopping her day in court, and she wears a skirt that's too long and heels that are too big. She carries a broken purse with her, containing an orange shirt, three dried guava seeds and the torn front cover of Watership Down.

She doesn't smile as her state-issued lawyer escorts her to her seat. She doesn't smile as people pile into the court room and whisper about her.

She starts to cry when she hears a familiar British voice call out, "Kate! Kate!"

Charlie and Claire are there, Claire exclaiming how thin she is and Charlie pulling her into a crushing hug. Aaron is balanced on Claire's hip and reaches out for a lock of her hair that has escaped it's pony tail. She laughs and takes Aaron in her arms and he laughs at her and calls her Auntie Katie. And she cries some more.

"Jack's coming too, Kate," Claire says sweetly. "All of us are. Jack's testifying for you. So is Sawyer."

She doesn't want to hear what Sawyer and Jack have to say about her, but she's glad that they're here with her. When Jack is called to the stand, she feels like she's been reanimated by something. She wants to be by his side and wrap her arms around him and cry out the frustrations she's been hoarding since the rescue.

Jack's testimony is glowing, and she feels almost weak at having seen him for the first time in seven months. As he slips out, he offers her a small smile and suddenly the court room seems just a little lighter.

Sawyer's testimony is hardly as glowing, but he does refer to her as Freckles. She never thought she miss hearing Sawyer's condescending tone but she does and she wonders if he'll visit her when she's in jail.

There's a short break, but she doesn't move. She rests her elbows against the table and props her head up, listening to the noise of the court room. And then there's a familiar hand on her shoulder and, in a single smooth movement, she's in his arms, and he's cradling her against his chest.

"It'll work itself out, Kate. I love you."

When the judge calls for a verdict, she stands on shaky legs and wonders how she can get back to the island and if Jack would come with her; would she really want to go without him?

"Guilty."

Guilty.

The word rattles around her head for a second, and there's a guard reaching out for her, and she offers her wrists out like a peace offering.

"It'll be okay, Kate!" Jack calls out to her, and Aaron's screaming again, and Sayid looks at her with such remorse in his eyes, she wonders if she died before his eyes.

And she's finally a prisoner. Not a criminal or a fugitive or a castaway, but a prisoner.

This has been a long time coming.