Chapter 10 - Follow You Heart
9/11/5

"What day is it
And in what month
This clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up
And I can't back down
I've been losing so much time"

The sound of her own terror brought Kate to; released her from the ambivalence she had been weighted down by, drowned in. It felt as if the weakness, the growing lack of hope and fading memories; they had sucked her under, made her believe there was no daylight left to be seen. And she had let herself disappear under the surface, let the cool water like mercury from a thermometer envelope her and hide her away; stopped herself from daring to look back at shore for fear that Jack would once more not be there to save her. She felt so, endlessly, weak; not just physically but mentally, the lack of light and timeline and disorientation that took over her, dragged her deeper. The endless waking and never knowing night from day, dusk from dawn; heaven from hell.

But then Kate screamed without thinking, screamed in pure unadulterated fear of the anonymous shaft of metal against her temple, the thought of life suddenly ending; losing out on growing as a person, knowing herself, trusting herself, finding Jack again and revealing all of her broken self to him. And it brought her back to life, power like electricity surging her legs into forceful kicking through the currents which threatened to drag her further out to sea. Gulping for air as she broke the surface, treading water and feeling some kind of hidden strength for the first time in what felt like a long, long time. Oh, there was still weakness; even turning her head or concentrating on her captor's words, caused Kate's mind to whirl and freeze and fragment, her muscles crying out with lack of basic necessary elements to cause contraction. But she pushed through it, dragged herself past barriers which would have made so many fall down and give up; and broke the surface.

Kate's reverie, her new lease of life, was short lived; shattered as the butt of that lifeless chunk of weapon, that solid powerful gun, smashed into her forehead. The shock of the impact took her breath away, the sheer force of the collision between virgin white bone and soft ruptured skin and metal. But then she was almost glad for the pain; so acute a sting that rapidly radiated to her whole face, skimmed down to the base of her skull, made her gag with the intensity of it. Warm foreign blood, freed from superficial veins and capillaries, bubbled and poured from a deep gash; curved around her eye and down the sharp angle of cheekbone, matting in her hair, so intense a red even in the gloomy light of the cave. Kate gingerly put her hand to the wound, could feel the hot liquid slicking over and coating her fingertips. She winced, but in truth had willingly taken far worse punishment whilst on the run; and that pain, that sharp shrapnel ache that spread like a road map along the network of nerves in her skin and deep tissue, it rang an alarm bell in her head, a need to wake and start to think more clearly, start to ask those million questions. To escape. To live.

The voice was sneering, harsh, cold, when it came. There was an intensity evocative of the low threatening tone Kate's stepfather had used when her mother was out of earshot, a reminder to keep the noise down, to keep out of sight, or she imagined to ideally just Smurf off altogether. "Don't. Do. That." The female voice spelled it out, patronising. "You start screaming again, and there'll be more than just a little bit of blood for you to worry about, got it?"

Kate nodded numbly. She could taste the metallic tang of iron-rich blood in her mouth, like a stain in the back of her throat, and there was no saliva to wash it away.

"Right." The gun was back to her forehead, deliberately pressing into the shards of torn skin. "Now you're gonna take us both to him, and then you're gonna know what real pain feels like."

Kate's mind raced. The woman could be speaking only of Jack, but the rest… his 'real name', how he was hers, none of it made any sense. She desperately tried to stall as an arm fell to her wrist and long fingers, slender and feminine, slid around bone and flesh.

"I need water." She stated. It was true. Her tongue was sandpaper, sharp and pasty in her mouth, clinging to her palate.

A water bottle was thrust into her hands, and Kate took greedy gulps of the precious liquid, fingers gripping the resource tightly for fear of it being snatched away. She wished Jack were there to disapprove, knew she herself had heard him say a thousand times that after dehydration it was important to take only a few small sips an hour to gradually replenish her bodily fluids; but Kate knew not when she might be allowed to drink again, and so she finished the bottle. The effect was instantaneous. Even before the last trickle wound its way down to her stomach, the cool liquid seemed a life force within her suddenly; the lethargy lifted, the confusion seemed to fade by huge degrees. Her body eagerly absorbed every last drop of fluid and brought her back to life.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice still croaky and thin. There was a rush of déjà vu, and Kate wondered, how many times had she asked that same question before, in a window of clarity; and received what? The truth, a lie, silence? Her memory had failed to retain the reply, only the feeling of having already asked. Kate allowed her eyes to wander up to that figure above and in front of her; managed to make out shapes and colours for the first time since whenever her arrival in the cave had been. The woman had straggly, dark blonde hair; pulled back into a rough bun, greasy strands darting before her eyes. She was bulkier than Kate; taller maybe and with broader shoulders, a heavier built frame. She held the gun in her right hand, steady as a rock; and those eyes, those eyes that glared black in the false night… they spun wildly, pupils pools of oil, deep chasms. Kate could see, she had been beautiful once, not even long ago; but now an ugliness clung to her, the ugliness which caused cruelty and madness in desperation for whoever 'he' was, or whatever she believed Kate to have done.

Faith snorted. Her fingers were still wound fast around Kate's pale forearm, a vice. "I'm the one who you stole him from. I'm the one who gets to decide exactly what should happen to you once we find him and he comes back to me."

"Jack?" Kate murmured, hardly daring to for fear of the reaction. She wanted desperately to somehow get the gun from the other woman, but saw not how she could manage it; she hadn't even tried standing yet, let alone attacking. And her captor seemed terrifyingly on edge, nervy, walking a thin wire between sanity and delusion and usually falling down on the wrong side. A sudden movement and that finger that hovered over the trigger, it could all too easily lurch downward, instinctively; and then all would be shattered and lost, and escape would be all too distant a dream compared to mere survival.

"Barely surviving has become my purpose
'Cause I'm so used to living to living underneath the surface
If I could just see you
Everything would be alright
If I could see you
This darkness would turn to light"

"That's NOT his name!" Anger filled her words, and Faith's grip upon the handle of the gun tightened. She let go of Kate's arm, and both hands found the grip of the gun; she stood mere inches from her hostage, the gun aimed squarely at Kate's already bloody forehead.

Kate backed up, scrambling to reverse in fear; her mind screaming at her to run, run as she always had; but knowing that was the one action with a certain, fatal, outcome. "Woah, calm down, I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean to…" The words came thick and fast and full of fright.

"Aidan! His name's Aidan! Not Jack, he's not yours to call anything, he's mine..." Faith's arms remained stretched in front of her, unsteady, uncertain. "All this, me holding you here, it's all your fault… He was in the middle of the plane when it broke up, and I was in the tail. I thought-" She paused, swallowed. "-Thought that he was dead, I gave up on him, and it's all your fault…" She seemed to trail off, her eyes wondering and flitting with the images playing on loop in her mind. The gun remained fixed in place. "You wouldn't let him go, but he came back to me, came back and found me… and the others wouldn't believe me, they said they couldn't see him but I knew better, I knew they were lying…"

Kate tried to process this jumble of high pitched information, this bombardment of hallucinogenic thoughts and ideas; and all the while feared for her own safety, the gun hovering like a promise, the not knowing where she was or how far her decimated body could run if necessary. She mentally summarised the information. She knew she had to goad more, in order to hear the full story, in order to try and talk herself out of this hell hole.

"So if you were sitting in the tail, why wasn't Aidan with you?"

"He went to get some napkins." Faith replied, on edge. Answering questions, listening to anything this bitch had to say, hadn't been part of the plan. But it felt good to tell someone, anyone, her story; felt good to speak Aidan's name, the feel of it on her tongue, the torch of it in the air.

"So when the plane broke up, was he in a seat? Was he strapped in?" Kate inched carefully towards the information she wanted.

Faith's eyes turned to stone. "You don't have any right to ask that." Her tone was low, an edge of sadness mixed with what was obviously a threat. Kate remained silent, hoping for more. Seconds passed and the tension in the cave seemed to grow and compound, circle in the air. Kate knew the answer but knew it needed to be spoken.

"Look… it's just, if he wasn't secured in a seat, he wouldn't have had a chan-"

"SHUT UP!" Faith interjected. The gun waved violently between them, that tiny black hole that held so much power, where death would leave from to enter her; it never left Kate's vision. "Just shut up, you don't know, Aidan loves me, he wouldn't ever leave me!" Faith's voice bounced and echoed from the cave walls, words haunting words, the endless collision of raised shouts and denied and buried grief spilling from her too easily, and appearing as anger, upset, irrational actions. "Aidan isn't dead. You're just trying to trick me like all the others… I know, you little bitch, I know he's with you and you're stopping him from coming back to me…" Faith took a step towards Kate, pressing the butt of the gun into rings of cartilage of her trachea; forcing her chin up, constricting her already weakened airway. Kate closed her eyes, felt that circle of hand-warmed metal burning into slack skin, swallowed against its impingement upon her airway. This was it. This might the last thing she ever said.

"But why would I take Aidan, if he is alive? Look… Jack is Jack, not Aidan… I'm sorry but I think you need to realise that if Aidan isn't with us, or with you, and he wasn't belted in, then…"

"STOP LYING!" The scream came. Kate's eyes whipped open, wide and manic with fright. "You, and everyone back at camp, none of them believe me, but I'VE SEEN HIM! Aidan's alive, he's ALIVE, and we're going to get him." Faith kept the gun shoved roughly against Kate's neck as she jerked her to her feet, the weaker woman instantly swaying and growing glassy eyed.

As soon as she found herself vertical, Kate's world began to tip upside down, and round, and through; where once there had only been only black and grey, colour formed and darted like fireworks. Her head grew first cold, and then hot, uncomfortably hot… she felt first her feet give out, then her legs, and then an endless path upwards as her body protested against the sudden movement with no energy to fuel it. Kate felt her knees collapse and buckle, and over and over in her mind a song lyric played by a band she couldn't recall, and hot flashes of colour spread and compounded, a fire that wouldn't cease.

The blackness began to descend over her; and then there were footsteps, rapid footfalls, heavy breathing, maybe a mirage and maybe, just maybe, not a mirage at all.

"How long have I been in this storm
So overwhelmed by the ocean
Water's getting harder to tread
With these waves crashing over my head
If I could just see you
Everything would be alright
If I could see you
This darkness will turn to light"

The darkness was interrupted by sporadic dashes of light, bright white flashes like a photograph being taken as the sharp light from Jack's LED torch bounced off the labyrinth walls, jerking around with his frantic running. So many times he nearly fell, trying urgently to find his way to the rising voices before they stopped, or something happened. His mind was flooded with so many conflicting voices; one flooded with relief that with Kate's frantic scream a few minutes back, he knew she was close, and able to speak, and just alive; another that cowered in fear at the quiet that had followed, that sickening sudden silence. There was one voice, the one he tried so so hard to ignore, the one that whispered his worst fears; what if he had reached her just minutes too late, what if a half hour earlier out of camp one morning would have made all the difference, what if she was lying in pain, waiting for him so she could say goodbye… what if, what if. Jack buried the voice under the others, those ones that spoke of positive outcomes and happy endings; and he followed the voices and his heart, his heart that led him to hers like a soul finding its mate.

Jack knew how capable Kate was, remembered her confidence with holding and handling a gun when they had trapped Ethan; recalled so vividly the striking image of her wet through, soaking clothes outlining her body, wet strands of hair and her delicate hand holding that metallic lump of power. How fundamentally wrong and right it had looked all at once; how as much as he admired Kate's confidence, loved her independence and self reliance, Jack also wanted to bundle her into his arms, just look after her and know her and have her allow him to love her. There was so much hurt in her eyes sometimes, so much suffering she secreted away; things he knew it might take years or lifetimes to let go of. Years or lifetimes he'd willingly give her, if she'd have him, if only he could save her.

Jack's footfalls slowed as the voice grew nearer, louder; his heart was smashing so frequently into his chest wall, colliding and collapsing and filling again with rich blood, and beginning again. The adrenaline shot round his body, holding hands with fear, infusing him with drive and fuel to keep going. The labyrinth tunnels were long and narrow, and many times he'd stumbled upon a cave without seeing it until he was in front of him; and he knew, that couldn't happen this time, for Kate might be in any of these, and he could never put her in any danger. Daylight barely reached this far into the catacombs, occasionally filtering through a thinner piece of ground above him; so Jack kept on his little torch but left it pointed at the ground. Gently, silently, he removed the nine millimetre from the waistband of his scruffy jeans, cocked the safety, felt the firm cool metal like a barrier in his hand. He heard Kate's voice again, muffled but definitively Kate; his heart pounding even faster, leaping up to his throat, the fear and hope and dread filling him in great handfuls.

And then a scream, not Kate but angry and directed at her, doubtlessly; and then that silence that was worse than any screaming or any noise, any noise apart from a gun shot.

Jack forgot stealth, forgot counting to five, forgot to conceal his torch light or take tentative steps as he neared the opening from where the voices were coming. He lurched towards Kate, this girl who six weeks ago he didn't even know existed; and now, was the most important thing in his world, more important than his own safety or continuing existence. He would willingly dissolve into ashes and lost memories, if it meant she would be okay, if she would be free; and his heart cried out for hers and then, suddenly, found it.

He staggered into the cave, nearly tripping over his own emotion and multiplying fears. The LED caught snapshots of the scene before him.

A face he didn't know, caught in something like shock and relief and the remnants of grief.

A makeshift platform, ropes brown with dried blood, a water bottle he recognised as Kate's.

A small collection of things in the corner; a blanket, another water bottle, Kate's boots, a faded envelope.

Kate. A gun aimed at her decimated form. Jack's heart thudded, screaming, wanting to leap out his chest cavity. She was bundled on the ground, collapsed, her already petite form having lost so much muscle and weight. Her eyes were looking into his but disbelief was flooding them, and he knew, she'd have seen this scene a million times before, in all those days since she was taken; and he wanted to cry and fall to her, hold her and apologise over and over, for not finding her sooner.

She was tiny, a tiny bundle of ripped clothing and wasting limbs and bedraggled hair; of cuts and bruises, thick weeping lesions around her wrists, a deep oozing gash above her right eye. He winced, and it was all Jack could do to not break down in tears. His Kate, so very broken… a mere rag doll on the ground. And needing him, so desperately.

"Aidan." Came a shocked voice.

Dry lips cracked open. "Jack…"

"Katie." Jack whispered, through the lump that filled his throat and the love that filled his every pore.

His heart had found hers once again; and now he just needed to save her.