(A/N: Well, I've returned, though I'm not sure for how long. So much is going on right now, and even though I'm constantly reviewing other writers, I've had barely anytime for my own. I know that I'm infamous at starting stories, and not finishing them. It's more a habit, and just to assure you, I have no enjoyment of seeing your guys suffer, waiting for other chapters to come out. The problem is two things a) Time, and b) my muse. I'll start stories, update them for a while, and then get a grand idea for another one.
I know, it's a vicious way to end them, but all previous stories that I have written for Lost are hereby discontinued until further notice. I'll update them sometimes, when I hit the right chord with pencil on paper, but that doesn't happen often.
If you have any ideas for any stories that you'd like to see continued, please e-mail me at FanOfLost-at sign-gmail-dot-com, and I'll see what I can do. PM me if you'd like, but I dunno how to use that, so you'll be better off e-mailing me.)
No Happy EndingsSummary: Stories that have happy endings are stories that haven't ended yet.
Type: Two-Shot
Jack buried his face in his hands, his sighs keeping back the inevitable tears for a while longer. The hard plastic of the chair reminded him every minute that he was back in reality, the peoples' voices fighting back and forth reminding him that he was in a place he thought he would have never been in. The phone rang, and the noise ceased for just a minute as the receptionist answered it, her face taking on a neutral stance.
"Hello, Los Angelos Local Jail, District Number 16. How may I help you?" She wrote a couple words down quickly on a notebook, and hung up the phone with a "Thank you for calling. Have a wonderful day." and handed the torn piece off to the man. "Get this to Barry, office eight."
"I know where Barry is, Melinda!" The man bellowed at her, a lock of thick brown hair falling into his eyes.
"Then get your ass in gear!" She screamed back.
"We'll finish this later," The man stated, and abruptly left.
The woman called Melinda sighed as the phone rang again. "Hello, Los Angelos Local Jail, District Number 16. How may I help you?" She asked.
Jack rose his head as he felt a dull stab in the shoulder, and a portly man came into focus.
"Mr. Shepard?" A deep baritone quality filled Jack's eardrums, and he was distantly reminded of home.
"Yes?" He looked into the man's eyes, a deep brown, and saw there not only sadness but order. Like he was used to telling this news to many other people, bringing down their world just like he was Jack's.
"We're ready for you now." He said with a flourish of his beefy hand. "Now, follow my directions before you enter the courtroom. You'll enter through the double doors, and not stop for any photo opportunities. Make your way up to the gates, head though them, and walk on up to the stand. Before you sit, the judge will ask you a question. There you must give a yes or no answer. No maybes or sures. Just I do, or I don't."
Jack nodded, and rose from the chair.
(Space)
This would be the first time in months that Jack wasn't going to see Kate behind a glass panel. No telephones, no counters nor bars, nothing holding them back except ten feet of tile and a wooden table. As the heavy doors opened, brief flashes from cameras carried across the room, along with loud voices yelling out all types of questions. Interrogations about his past on the Island, Kate's and his relationship, their sex lives, it all was just another sentence down in an article that was literally bullshit. Everyone knew it, but yet they kept on hammering away at him.
Jack didn't pause, nor speak, as he strode past them, a pride bubbled inside him as all quieted down. He had dodged the bullet another time, and for that he was thankful. His eyes traveled to the beautiful head up front, her eyes kept a hauntingly steady stare at him as he walked by. A small smile flashed across her face, fast as lightning, and when it had disappeared, Jack wasn't even sure if it had really existed or not.
The room towered above him, making Jack feel small and vulnerable. The courtrooms on TV didn't do this one justice, but he was sure that the media had had something to do with the size. A ray of sun found it's way into the windows off to the side, and Jack decided that while it made the house feel less destructive, it sure didn't help with the mood.
He paused before he took the small seat on the stand, feeling Kate's eyes bore into the side of his neck, and the man - who Jack now recognized as the bailiff - started rambling off the usual "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" in a tired voice, like he had asked this question too many times before.
Jack responded with the "I do" that everyone expected to hear. What was funny was that Jack, as a child, had only thought that he'd say those words one time in his life, the day when he married his lover. Now he had stated the words two times, and, if everything worked out, maybe a third.
(Space)
The other lawyers stared directly at him, then at each other, their eyes fighting out a battle to see who got to go first. One, a small, lean man, stood up, and said "The State of California would like to ask the man on the stand some questions."
"Proceed." The judge nodded, and knocked his gavel.
The lawyer ran a hand through his slick blonde hair and straightened out the creases in his suit, grabbing the folder as he slowly walked up in front of Jack. "Mr. Shepard, am I correct in saying that you have no blood relation to this woman?"
Jack consented, and grasped his hands together, hoping that the pain could take some stress off of himself.
"How did you meet this woman?" He prodded on, flipping through some papers.
"The oceanic flight of eight-fifteen crash site. She helped me by sewing a wound close." He smiled at Kate as a beam of remembrance came upon her face.
"Is this true, Ms. Austen?"
"I object. The defendant does not have to answer that question." Her lawyer called out quickly as Kate opened her mouth.
"Request question overturned." The judge responded back, and looked at the State's lawyer, "Mr. Cholotte, please keep the interrogation towards Mr. Shepard."
The lawyer glared, but obeyed. "Mr. Shepard, when did you know that Ms. Austen was a potential killer?"
Jack sighed, and ran a hand over his crew cut hair, pausing to think this out.
"Sir, please answer the question." The judge stated, looking down at Jack.
"The third day." Jack answered quietly.
"Sir, please speak up." Mr. Cholotte, a devious smile on his face.
"The third day!" Jack almost shouted, "I found the picture on the third day!"
Kate's face was one of surprise, then of fury. He could tell that it was taking a lot for her not to yell at him.
"What picture?" The lawyer asked.
"...Her mug shot."
(Space)
The hour in which he was on stand passed by quickly, and soon the judge called a recess for lunch and for the jury to see what should happen to the defendant. Kate's lawyer shut his briefcase, shuffled a couple papers, and left quickly to eat his lunch in one of the many backrooms, while the media took their time to leave, almost as if they wanted to hear the judge call the court back in session. Meanwhile, Jack watched as the bailiff snapped the familiar handcuffs on Kate, and led her away, a pleading look on her face as she passed Jack by. Jack himself took a minute to stretch before the judge clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Son, why don't you come with me to lunch?"
It only took Jack a couple seconds to catch on, and he nodded his reply as he followed the overweight man from the room. In the small hallway, Jack could see Kate just turning the corner, her footsteps bouncing off the walls, taunting him to follow. Jack knew better, however, and waited as the judge removed his robes, mumbling something about how outrageous the length was these days.
A while later, the two men sat in a small backroom, the walls painted white with a few articles pinned up. The clanking of the forks against the plates was soothing for a while, but Jack's mind couldn't be slowed down. "What do you think'll happen to her?"
The judge sat back in his chair, and sighed, "Son, I don't know if I want to answer that question for you."
"I'll find out anyway." Jack stated, half out of childish stubbornness, and half out of curiosity.
"Well, she's looking at least seventy-five years in prison, probation in twenty. Her bail's going to be monstrous. Hell, for all I know, it could be the death penalty, depending on what the jury thinks."
"...This isn't a joke, is it?" Jack asked, his eyes watery, and his heart plummeting faster then his stomach.
The judge let out a small laugh, and patted his back, "Son, if this was a joke, I'd have been smiling when I said that."
-------------------------------
(A/N: Well, the next chapter should be up soon. I've got to go to my aunt's house for another turkey day, and tomorrow I'm cleaning for a party we're having. So possibly tomorrow, but probably Sunday we're looking at an update. Songs I was listening to while writing: Jimmy Eat World's 'Work', The Postal Service's 'The District Sleeps Alone Tonight', and Modest Mouse's 'Float On'.)