Chapter Two - Fears That Just Won't Fade
4/10/5

There was no pressing urgency to return to the caves, so Jack deliberately wandered off course in the jungle whilst picking some guava and papaya for Kate and him to enjoy later. He liked to get lost on the island once in a while, nothing too far from the main trails but just enough to map a couple of extra miles of land; find a new fruit to try or herb to pass on to Sun for her ever-expanding garden, or occasionally stumble across a new piece of fuselage; a suitcase, a child's toy, a photo. He was reaching for a particularly ripe papaya on a mature tree when his bare foot found contact with something other than dirt or shrubbery; a woven fabric, damp but distinctly manmade. He carefully lowered the fruit to his rapidly-filling rucksack and stepped back again to find a small black tote bag hidden amongst the tree roots; evidently tossed from the shattering plane as he himself had been, as they all were, with nothing but themselves and belongings scattered upon the earth like a jigsaw. Jack sunk to his knees, his back slick with sweat in the ever hotter sun, and gently tugged at the bag's zip opening.

Inside he found as expected; a passport in the name of Flynn Saunders, a face he did not recognise, a wallet with some Australian dollars stuck in the back, a paperback - great, Sawyer'll be pleased, Jack thought grudgingly - and, to his great delight, a small unused disposable camera. The gadget looked to be intact and Jack pocketed it before stuffing the rest of the gear into his backpack for the others to sort out amongst themselves. He stood and carefully placed the heavy load of fruit on his back, readjusting to gain his balance and drawing the back of his hand across his forehead to clear the sheen of perspiration. A grin came over his face at the idea of having a camera; hell, it might be a while 'til they could get the photos developed, but they should have some record of this, of what they had achieved and their day to day life on the island. Now, he thought; where the hell am I?

After several minutes of wandering in circles Jack found his marker; the red bandanna he had tied around the branch of a tree so to orientate himself upon returning. He grabbed the scrap of material from its perch and continued down the trail he had made for himself. The birds were singing somewhere close by, and the waves were crashing along the shoreline in the distance, and as he knew they would, Jack's thoughts turned to Kate.

He worried about her, being out on the beach with only Sawyer and a few other characters for company and protection. Kate was nothing if not self-sufficient and deep down Jack knew that, but it didn't stop him noticing that look that clouded her irises when she thought no-one was looking; like a memory passing over her train of thought, or a dream unfulfilled. He knew only the bare bones of her history; but then, he mused, she could say the same of him. He wanted to ask her, what was it that she did, why did she seem to push others away if they got too close… but then he wondered, did he really want to know? Jack was aware that in his own mind Kate existed in fragments only, a few snatched moments, and so many of them imperfect, as if they were only skimming what each really wanted to say. He was scared of his own reaction to what this woman might have done, yet he ached to know the pain behind her eyes so he might wish it away. He was so used to being able to fix physical problems that Jack was worried he would not be able to mend her heart, would not be capable of drawing out the damage within Kate and somehow making it better. And, more importantly, if she'd ever let him anyway. Sometimes, for days on end, he was just too busy to see her; or he'd be tired and snap, or be distracted by an 'Excuse me, Doctor, but…'; and he'd turn from her approaching figure, and by the time he looked back she was gone.

And then there was this tension between them; he was sure all of Kate's independence and each of their fears caused it but Jack was unsure how to rectify the situation. He was lost as to how he felt about Kate; his comment that morning had fallen out his mouth and surprised even him. The trouble was that she could always come back with something witty and clever, and Jack didn't know how much to read into what Kate said. Whenever he pictured them together, it was always Kate pulling away, looking down, avoiding his eyes. But he remembered her face when he had been trapped in the cave with Charlie; the relief painted over her features, the cuts and bruises endured trying to reach him, the way she had clung to him like a lifeline. And Jack knew; he might never figure Kate out, but he'd try with all he had.

"Freckles." Sawyer leaned against a piece of wreckage that made up one 'wall' of Kate's area. He grinned cockily. "What… are you doing?"

. Kate grimaced and squinted into the sun, finding Sawyer's silhouette outlined in gold. The irony, thought Kate. It was almost like he was bathed in angelic light.

"Remind me why that's any of your business, Sawyer?" She retaliated, trying to discreetly fold the piece of paper she had been looking at.

"Aw, Freckles, come on now…" He jokingly backed off and held his hands up. "I'm just bein' neighbourly and coming to say howdy here, I thought we were passed all this hostility?" His sarcasm grated on her. "You got a cup of sugar and an egg I could borrow? I just moved in next door is all and I somehow haven't had time to run to the grocer's yet."

"Ha ha. I see we've found our class clown…" Kate muttered dryly as she tucked the white slip from her hand to her pocket. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

"Well see I just don't know… what can I say, the sun's shining and my tan's starting to look kinda impressive. Reckon I'm gonna be cover boy of The Island Calendar 2005 at this rate." Sawyer paused and struck a lazy pose. "Available at all good retailers, just $14.95."

Kate gave a small smile. Sawyer wasn't so bad really. She just wasn't in the mood for his banter right now.

"And anyways Princess, I thought you'd be on top of the world after your little brekkie with Jacko this morning."

Kate looked up questioningly. "You…"

"Shh, don't get narky, I was taking a wizz and happened to see you two sitting in the sand a little way off. I was straight back to my bed, let me tell you. Angelina Jolie was making sure I had enough sun screen in all the right places, if you know what I mean." He winked. What was it with him, Kate wondered. Why always this act? But then, she thought, she did the exact same thing half the time. Just safer than letting the real stuff out.

"Hmm, well, I'm going over to the caves right now anyway." Kate leaned down and grabbed a bottle of water and her boots. "… so you can get back to Angelina before she opens her eyes and realises it's not Brad she's jacking off." She brushed past Sawyer and headed down the beach to the opening in the treeline to the caves, and didn't look back, even as her called after her.

"Well you have fun playing doctors and nurses there, give my regards to the crew, I know how they miss me… oh, and Kate? Stop looking at that piece of paper." Sawyer turned and wandered back to his lonely spot in the fuselage.

Kate flinched at Sawyer's words as they floated to her along the breeze. She'd guessed he had seen the mug shots she'd been looking at, but had been secretly hoping she was wrong. Jack had wordlessly handed them to her the night she'd refused to tell him what it was she'd done when he asked again. He'd had his chance, she told him; but she'd wanted to tell him, just scared, scared to speak the words and scared he'd run.

Now she couldn't help herself from staring at those two pictures, sometimes for hours on end. She'd stare long enough to stop recognising herself, until her retinas burned and the image faded into the paper. Kate hated that person. She hated what she'd become, what she'd done, hated that even she didn't understand it sometimes. She hated the memory of Jack's first gaze upon her after he'd discovered she was the felon on the plane; like she'd somehow robbed him of herself, as though she'd taken this perfect image he had of her and stamped on it and burnt it until there were only ashes and uncertainty left. And there was no-one to blame but herself, because she should have told him earlier, because she never should have done what she had in the first place. Forever imperfect and forever tainted.

Sometimes Kate just let herself stop; stop feeling guilty, stop hating herself, just for an hour or a day. The island was good at providing chores to be done, refuge to sort through, and Kate often found herself in Sun's garden, planting seeds or hoeing soil. She'd catch herself smiling for no reason, something she'd forgotten how to do for so long; at Sun's little delicate gestures, or when Clare came down with Aaron in all his incredible newness… and those few times when Jack had wandered in on them, with some excuse about having seeds, or wanting to check on herbal remedies. And after he was gone, how she would watch his figure retreat, and Sun whispered that Jack had asked that morning if Kate was coming up during the day. And Kate would smile even broader, and then more often than not feel guilty, inadequate, undeserving.

She shook these thoughts from her head as she approached the garden, Sun deep in concentration writing the names of different herbs upon small squares of plastic so to remember what was planted where. The little patch of herbs and fruit tree saplings seem to have thrived even more each time Kate came to tend to them; with Sun's attention and endless patience, they had really accomplished something useful and worthwhile. Kate waved silently to Sun, not wanting to interrupt her, and Sun returned the gesture and nodded, smiling delicately.

The caves came into view now, the buzz of activity as Charlie rocked a mewing Aaron, and Hurley stood with Jin, trying to somehow discuss their latest project - which to Kate sounded suspiciously like a non-starter - in a mixture of English, Korean and a sort of theatrical display when language failed them both. Kate couldn't help but smile as this delightfully ridiculous scene greeted her, and she did a general wave to all the campers as she walked to the waterfall to fill a couple of bottles.

She could see Jack in the corner of her eye, in the examination cave chatting to Clare and presumably checking all was well with both her and the baby. Clare looked tired, but exceedingly happy as she watched Charlie cradle her son and make all kinds of funny faces and voices to try and appease the infant. Charlie was doing so well, thought Kate as she smiled at him. He had practically become Aaron's father, and rarely let either mother or son out of his sight for any length of time. A new addiction, a new love, a new chance for them all.

"Kate," Jack jogged over to her, smiling softly. She noted he had changed since the morning and grinned sheepishly.

"Jack. See that shirt's just much nicer on you." She tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear, almost shyly. "So ya still up for a round of…" Kate mimed striking the ball with a driver.

"Absolutely, let me just grab the clubs… and if that was supposed to be golf, I don't think this'll be our last lesson either." Jack grimaced playfully and rubbed his hand over a scrape on his forearm.

Kate instinctively reached out and gently stroked the skin close to the wound. "Is that new? Are you okay?"

Jack stood still, feeling the softness of her fingertips. "Yeh, um, just a good reason why next time I gut a fish, I shouldn't also be discussing the finer details of pool with Hurley." He brought his other hand up subconsciously to protect the graze, and for a brief second his hand met hers, and their eyes met as a spark like a breath caught in ecstasy shuddered through them both.

It was Kate who withdrew her hand first. It was only against Jack's for a millisecond but she had to physically close and reopen her eyes to remember what she was doing at the caves. "Right, well you go do the manly thing and get the clubs then."

Jack blinked. "Clubs. Yes. Good plan."

The sky was a blue streamer above them, and the 'flag' - a Hawaiian shirt ripped to stay on the pole - fluttered in the breeze that ran down the valley. "You don't understand!" Kate cried, trying not to laugh. "I was always the athletic kid at school, there wasn't one sport I wasn't at least okay at… except for golf, apparently." She shook her head, and ripples of chocolate brushed around her face as the wind caught her hair.

"Indeed. Not so hot on the golf." Jack mocked her gently. Kate was currently at her fifteenth shot to get the ball in the hole, on a three par hole. The ball was lying in what Jack kept calling the 'rough' - it all looked pretty rough to her - and Jack kept telling her she needed a gap wedge, or some other wedge, and so Kate naturally decided to continue using the 4-iron she had become accustomed to. Trouble was, of course, that it didn't actually seem to be getting her any closer to the hole.

"Jaaaacckkkk…" She whined as the ball once again flumped down in the same patch of grass it appeared to be particularly fond of coming back to. "See this is why only doctors play golf."

"Mmmm?" He murmured, walking over to her and suppressing a grin at how cute she looked, half sulking and holding the club completely wrong.

"'Cause only you lot could possibly put up with doing something this frustrating for hours on end! Like spinal surgery…or those tiny microscopic operations you seem to love." Kate had to admit, through all her complaining, she hadn't felt so relaxed in as long as she could remember. She was so used to conversations with Jack being short and fleeting, as one of them had to return 'home'; it was the first time in weeks they had spent more than twenty minutes together without an interruption.

"Maybe it's 'cause only us spinal surgeons have the skill to master such a testing sport." Jack grinned. "Come here," he gestured for Kate to turn around so she had her back to him. "Now show me your grip."

"Of the club?" She asked sweetly.

Jack coughed. "Of the club."

Kate complied, cheeks burning, not daring to turn around to see Jack's face. She locked her hands together around the grip and tried to adopt what she considered to be a 'golfy' stance.

"Well… your grip's okay, your stance is… acceptable, your club is totally wrong, and of course you're not a spinal surgeon, so that's two things for you and two against." She could feel his breath on her shoulder, his chest with rippled muscle firm against her back. Kate caught her breath, and once she had felt Jack retreat, brought the club up and hit the little white ball firmly in the centre. It leapt up from the grass, sailing through the air and landing gracefully a foot from the hole; and with a little help from gravity, slowly descended the final stretch of green and curved satisfyingly into the cup Hurley had buried level with the ground. Kate wheeled round, a huge smile on her face, those dark eyes dancing.

"See what happens when ya have a spinal surgeon nearby?" Jack joked as Kate leapt on him, whirling them both around. "Hole in seventeen. We'll make a professional out of you yet!" They both fell down in a fit of laughter, Kate's hands pinning Jack's shoulders and her petite form colliding against his.

"I got it in! I got it in!" Kate cried in between fits of laughter.

"You did." Jack smiled at her, their eyes meeting and neither looking away for long moments. She wanted to ask him about the scar through his eyebrow. She wanted to curl up in this moment and never leave, she was so happy.

"Kate…" Jack's eyes never left hers, and he suddenly in the moment knew exactly what he wanted and how he felt and none of the other stuff mattered. Kate was Kate and whatever she had done, had made who she was today. And she was so full of life and hope and filled him with joy, all that fragile beauty and put on strength. Jack brought his hand to the side of her face, smoothing a tendril of hair and cupping her delicate cheek.

"Jack, I…" The sweet roughness of his fingers caressed her cheek, and it was all Kate could do to not cry. He made her so endlessly happy, all their banter and jokes and his never ending kindness and goodness. But… she couldn't do this to him, she couldn't let him in, couldn't let him in as she had Tom, couldn't let him die as she had Tom. What if she screwed Jack up too? "No.. no… I can't…" A tear ran down Kate's cheek, soaking into his palm, and confusion flooded Jack like a high tide.

"Kate… what's wrong?…" But she was already up and running, dashing down the valley, doing the only thing she knew how to. Jack could still feel her cheek under his hand, how something like relief had flooded her features when he had first touched her - followed by what? Fear? Shame? Guilt?

"KATE!" He called after her retreating figure. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

But she couldn't, or wouldn't, hear him; heard only the pounding of her heart, the tears drowning her, the longing she ignored and the voice in her head which told her; you're not good enough, you're not good enough…

The heavens broke overhead, like the gods sobbing, and the ground around them both suddenly came alive with fat droplets of rain disturbing each leaf and bug. Jack stood perfectly still in the deluge, water dripping off his eyebrows and fingertips, staring after this woman who filled more of his heart with each footfall and each raindrop, and wondered how to break down the barriers that hid her from him.