Chapter 17 - Nightminds
14/1/6

Her eyes are so blue, sometimes. Startling blue, stop you in the street blue, dive on in and find me out blue. She'll look up, and like a trick of the light those azure orbs grip you; beyond finding words, beyond looking away. You wonder, if you took the plunge, if you dived in, immersed yourself within her… if things would be as clear as that engulfing blue. If the barriers that still grip her, like a damn or a rock wall, would somehow all fade away.

"Just lay it all down
Put your face into my neck and let it fall out
I know
I know
I know"

She winced. He looked up, taking in the gentle image of her; eyes slightly creased up, teeth gripping the tender flesh of her lower lip, knuckles tipped white with her grip on the seat pads. Jack reached over, grabbed tweezers from the medicine cart, and as gingerly as possible removed the small lengths of severed green thread, careful not to disrupt the thin film of scar tissue forming over the wound. Scar tissue, so startling white next to the slight sheen of a tan it grew into; something so pure from what had just days ago been a mangle of blood, torn flesh, shrapnel... fear.

"All done." He announced quietly, tenderly reaching up to cup Kate's chin in his hand. "You okay? Sorry I can't offer you a stale sandwich and some nutrient filled Jello, just to complete the hospital experience."

Kate grinned despite herself. "Think I'll be able to forgive you." She intertwined her fingers with his, watching as their skin smoothed over one another's, the simplicity and intimacy of the moment all combining . "In time." She glanced down at the thick swelling of fibrosing tissue on her thigh, traced it with the fingertips of her free hand. It felt right, somehow, to have a reminder; peace after such chaos, Jack appearing like an angel, the days she had lost to fragments of memories. Memories her mind had taken, grabbed dreams of Jack and bundled the two together like pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit.

"It'll clear up a little more." She was suddenly aware of Jack watching her, of her hand still clutching his. Abruptly Kate realised how exposed her body was, just underwear and a singlet covering so much bruised flesh; those clouded marks fading from deep purple into yellow and somehow vanishing. Jack opened his mouth, closed it again. Kate let a chuckle escape her lips; it was the same expression he'd worn upon once walking in on her post-bathing in the water hole, her body slick with freshness and warmth as she lay drying in the sun. She'd heard a rustling in the bushes, cracked open an eyelid to the floodlit sky; and found Jack, doing his utmost to stop himself from staring, his mouth open against his will.

"Struggling with the doctor - patient relationship there?" Kate teased as he tried to look away now, knowing full well he didn't really have to.

Jack coughed, scarlet coming to his cheeks despite himself. "Uhm… I'll leave you to get dressed…" He turned to leave, stumbled. Kate continued to enjoy herself.

"'Cause that would be taking advantage…"

Jack stopped, did a one-eighty, reaching above his head with both hands for the top edge of the cave and stretched his arms while he matched Kate's gaze, a devilish grin on his lips.

"Certainly would."

"Mmm. What if the patient made the first move?" She reached forward and up, expertly undoing the top bottom of his shirt with one hand.

Jack's breath caught as he moved ever so slightly closer. "Not sure on the Medical Council's views on that, now…" Tenderly, he knelt down so they were at the same level; lost himself inside the moment, that intoxicating lagoon of her eyes as they wrapped him up in her. Kate traced the outline of Jack's jaw line, sharp and softened all at once, the rough stubble she nuzzled into at night. She leaned closer, let her lips find his; could feel the quiver that passed through his form as she cupped his face, controlling the moment, the sheer intimacy of the world they created for themselves.

Hesitating, Jack let his hands find Kate's bare legs, his thumbs sketching tiny circles just above her knees as his fingers fell behind her lower leg. He wondered why he should waver, resting fingers there when just days ago his digits had been inside, moving muscle and vessels aside, frantic with time and loss of blood. His hands had been inside her, foreign and invading; and yet here and now, touching her as the man who loved her and not her doctor, his hands shook at the sensation of her skin. Jack moved his left hand further up, and delicate as a brush of air traced that thin filament of new flesh forming over such damage; nearly pulled away, overwhelmed by the closeness of the moment. Kate so nearly bare before him, breathing the same air; she outlining with a fingertip the same path a tear would be taking, the tear that would be falling at this very second, and every second, had this scar never formed. Had she not lived. She kissed him again, her lips never leaving his; the soft skin fluttering, delicate movements, and both losing themselves to it. She didn't delve her tongue deep into his mouth, wrap her legs around his torso… but just both being in the same pocket of air, the movement of her mouth like a droplet of heaven upon him, drowned him. The intimacy was so innate, so inborn into the very situation, into Kate's every move. Jack ached for nothing more than to never need move again, to live forever in this moment as the rest of the universe rotated around them.

It was minutes or hours later that one finally pulled away; time faded with the rest of the world, lost in the feel of the other so close. Kate rested her forehead into Jack, inhaling his warmth like a drug. He pulled her petite form into his own solidity; she wrapped slender arms around his waist, buried her face deep into the fabric of his shirt; dampness, remnants of anti perspirant, and something deep and hidden she could never put her finger on. Just Jack.

"Let's go to the swimming hole later." She murmured, her thumb outlining the creases of skin in his palm.

"Sounds good to me." Jack looked up at her, her eyes wistful and somehow far off.

He knew what she would say before the words ever left her mouth, those eyes which found his suddenly a greyer blue, a cloud no-one else would notice.

"I want to tell you."

You wonder what hides beyond the grey, that smoke that clings like a barrier to what must be playing in her head. You wonder where she is, and who is there, and what happens; why she cannot stop herself from diving under to that dark place. Fleetingly, you consider the possibility of diving in her with there at those grey moments; gripping her, demanding answers to questions you know you have no right to ask. It's not for you. It's to try and bring her back, to resurface, so you can take such demons and drown them.

But you know, you knew all along; you can't follow her under. It's she who must surface, and she who must invite you in.

"This world you're in now
It doesn't have to be alone,
I'll get there somehow, 'cause
I know
I know
I know"

Jack went ahead, Kate assuring him she'd manage the walk; barely a ten minute hobble from the caves, and yet he was terrified to leave her. He could barely remember the last time she hadn't been, at the very least, within his sight; except he could, all too clearly, as her screams rang out to him through the systems of catacombs. Eight days ago. Jack knew it was irrational, Kate's captor dead, but he couldn't stop the ideas that collided and compounded, a mantra within him. Sawyer had come to the caves for water shortly before Jack had departed, and Jack had taken him to one side, asked him to follow Kate discreetly when she came to join him.

"And then leave?" Sawyer had questioned, jokingly.

"If you wouldn't mind." Jack had raised an eyebrow, accepted the other man's banter with good humour; thanked him for the favour.

Her hands were shaking. Literally, jittering like crazy, couldn't do buttons up, shaking. She was terrified, of the words that sat like cancer at the back of her throat, threatening and erupting. She wanted them out. If the last two weeks had taught her anything, it was that life was too short to go on hiding all the scars she had so buried in herself. It's Jack, she told herself, time and again. He knows the outline anyway. He knows you killed the man you loved. He knows that by all rights, you should be locked up. He knows. She so wanted to pull off those layers amounted, the years of being alone, the million hours of aching with guilt and grief and things she couldn't ever say before.

And then at the exact same time, even as she opened her mouth to practise words she'd never said before; every nerve in Kate's body, every cell consumed with all her fears, screamed at her to gather up all her honesty again, take it back, protect Jack from herself. They were the same ones that repeated her stepfather's mantra, "You're not good enough…"… and while she could now ignore that, could now accept he was wrong, that she was indeed good enough for Jack and he accepted her for who she was… at the same time, Kate wondered if she'd ever accept herself. If she'd ever lie beside Jack at night, as each drifted into the same dream; and as he whispered that she was beautiful, believe him.

Jeans were just about manageable, now; Kate slipped a thin leather belt through the denim loops, cringed as she slipped the metal fitting into the hole one back from where she had worn it previously. Jack kept telling her, how she must regain the weight lost while she was held captive. She decided on her long sleeved white shirt, the one with thin vertical indigo lines and wide cuffs; literal minutes later, the buttons eventually all shakingly fastened, Kate swept half her hair up into a natural bun, the rest left to trail down her back in a chocolate waterfall. Wisps framed her face, and she dashed a small amount of Sun's lotus flower perfume on her wrists and behind her ears.

It's just Jack, she told herself internally. It's Jack, Jack who loves you, who you love.

But that was exactly why it would be so hard. That was exactly why, as Kate set out and tried to pretend she didn't notice Sawyer following her as she knew Jack would have asked him to; exactly why, when she tried to open her mouth, all that appeared was whispers of love, repeated over and over in a desperate attempt to convey how much she needed him.

How much she needed him, and how she needed him to know; the person who did all those terrible things, she's not here anymore.

I buried her within me long ago.

Fish, flowers, fruit, blanket to sit on, small fire, camera, starlight, water, himself. Jack tried to think what he'd forgotten, his palms clammy at his sides. He needed it to be perfect, for her. He needed her to feel safe, wanted, understood. He needed her to know that he loved her, and that wasn't going to change for anything.

The déjà vu washed over Jack like a tidal wave. He could recall all too clearly sitting here all those nights ago, the minutes that ticked by as he sat serenely ignorant by the shore; as Kate was dragged unconscious through the jungle, the contradiction stark and wounding. He lost himself to the thought of it, tortured himself with it; retraced his steps with desperation, even now, even with her back and recuperating and lying in his arms each night.

And so when she appeared from the jungle like a hallucination, a slight limp evident, looking for all the world like the most beautiful vision he'd ever seen; Jack gazed to the heavens momentarily, and thanked the stars for bringing her back to him.

It's dark when she comes to you, and eyes lose all blue and grey, and catch the amber of the firelight. You are almost nervous to see her; but then she looks to you with those flickering crimson eyes, and you lean to kiss her gently, never closing your eyes.

You never knew the colour of love before.

"But I will learn to breathe
This ugliness you see,
So we can both be there and we can both share the dark
And in our honesty,
Together we will rise
Out of our nightminds, and into the light
At the end of the fire…"

The yellow snapper and mango, lychees and guava were long gone. Jack took the blanket in his left hand, Kate's own hand in his right… together they made footprints in the small crescent of sand, as he led her to a wide tree trunk just above the waterline. The night was warm, crickets croaking somewhere near, the fire smouldering at just the right distance to provide background heat. Jack sat against the rough bark of the tree, leaving his legs bent and open for Kate to sit down in the space created. Carefully, she positioned herself so her right leg could remain straight; her left bent into Jack's own, her head leaning into his chest and the crook of his neck as he unfolded the blanket and positioned the material over their intertwined forms.

Jack brought his arms under the fabric, wrapped them around Kate's waist and rested his palms within hers.

"Remember when…" She took her turn in the game they had been playing all the way through dinner. "When I caught you checking me out, and you totally denied it?"

Jack blushed, and was thankful she couldn't see him. "Well…"

"Well what?"

"Well a guy's gotta play hard to get, Kate. And besides, I wasn't checking you out…" He joked devilishly.

She turned to him, pretending to initiate a kiss and then moving her lips temptingly out of reach, teasing him. "No?"

"Well…" Jack strained to find her face.

"Mmm?"

"Maybe just a little bit." He leaned into her and Kate failed to resist, allowing his lips to meet hers momentarily, his scent intoxicating.

"Ahem. Your turn." She pulled away, basking at the longing in his eyes in the firelight, and grinned.

Jack rested his chin into her hair, inhaling the purity and lotus flower emanating from her. "Remember when you made me my sling after the cave in." The words muffled into Kate's locks.

She gripped his hands a little tighter, drawing his arms around her. That day had been awful, probably the first day she admitted to herself how much Jack meant to her, as she frantically tore the skin on her fingertips, scraping at rubble to try and reach him.

Her turn.

Kate paused, opened her mouth, hesitated.

"…"

Inhale, exhale. Just breathe.

"Remember when I told you I killed the man I loved."

Jack's mind whirred, his breath stopped. He knew Kate heard, as halfway through as exhalation, suddenly that warm rush if air just caught in his throat, subconsciously. Caught off guard, he leaned into her ear, encircling her.

"You don't have to tell me." His whisper was like a lifeline. "I want to hear but only when you're ready… and that doesn't have to be today, or this week, or-"

"I want to tell you." Her whisper matched his, dissolved into it. "I need you to know."

And so she began.

There were no words that invited sympathy, no excuses, no blaming others. Jack sat quietly in the new position they had adopted, cross legged opposite each other, the warmth between them reflecting fear, trust, vulnerability, love.

It was amazing, how she could detach herself from the words as she told them. Each word was a truth - down to tears fallen, how she had felt, all those things she had done which coursed shame through her veins. There was nothing left out, no half truths, nothing glossed over to protect herself; but Kate said them at a distance, for she couldn't live the life again as she spoke it, for fear of breaking down and never completing the history, that history Jack deserved to hear.

If you love me, you deserve to know me.

If you trust me, you deserve to know all the reasons I barely trust myself.

If you want to hold me through the night, protect me from invisible demons and long off threats, you have to know for me, that includes myself.

The mantras ran through her mind each time her heart pounded, begging her to stop; each time her brain saw those flames, or the blood spilling like water from Tom's chest, or her father's face as he walked from that hospital room. Every so often her words would dry up, desert her; Kate chewed on her nails, picking at dry skin around the cuticles until scarlet spots of blood appeared. Once Jack reached for her hands in these moments, conveying he was still listening, still cared enough to stay. She withdrew from him, lost within the person she used to be.

The firelight flickered, flowed, rolled like a dragon through the night air.

"How's Richard now?" Jack asked, cautiously, when it became clear Kate was psyching herself up for part two. Kate shuddered at the name of that awful, cruel man, spoken in Jack's voice, the most caring person she had ever known.

"I don't know." She whispered it, ashamed, frightened. "My father never said. I think he knew it didn't matter. I couldn't come home, whatever the answer."

Jack nodded, taking in all the information she had blessed himself with so far. "Kate… he was a bad man. I mean a seriously messed up guy. And you didn't mean to do what you did. You didn't know."

She nodded across from him, tears in her eyes. "I know all that. I…" She tried to voice the words that hung somewhere in her mind. "I regret doing what I did. But I don't torture myself with it." No, there's something worse, something so much worse. If only you knew…

"Tom." She forced the word out, thick and precarious. Jack recognised the name, had heard her call it along with his own in fits of dreams during her sedation; recognised it at the person who also used to call her Katie.

"I knew Tom since I was in third grade, when we moved to Iowa. We were partners for everything in class, because our surnames were beside each other in the register." Kate smiled sadly. She could let herself relive this stuff, those happy days, that foolish innocence. "We did everything together, I mean everything - go camping in the backyard, dare each other to eat a worm, get chicken pox, make the dog a birthday cake. Everything you do when you're a kid." She glanced to Jack. "Now you know why I'm such a tomboy."

Jack smiled encouragingly. He was afraid to say anything, for fear of her suddenly shutting down.

"When I moved to Canada, we made a time capsule… stupid stuff, a tape of our voices, a baseball cap. Tom's toy plane." She caught Jack's eye. "We buried it under this huge oak where we used to go and talk, where I'd tell Tom all the stuff Richard used to say and do. God, we had this whole life plan, Jack. We were gonna get married and have nine kids, a little house someplace quiet, a pool table in the garage. A dog. It was all kid's stuff but I knew he meant it. He would have done anything for me…"

Kate cleared her throat. "We promised we'd keep in touch, and we always did, until… until it all happened. I knew he'd put himself at risk and I didn't want to make him chose to keep in touch or not, to put him in that situation. So I made the decision. Tom went and grew up, became a doctor, got married, had a little boy. I drove, back and forth across America."

The tears had started properly when Kate first said Tom's name, like reading a gravestone; they streamed down her cheeks in an endless flow, dripping to her hands. Neither she nor Jack made any attempt to stop them, catch them; Kate unaware she was even crying, and Jack knowing this was something she'd probably never be able to vocalise without tears. Her cheeks glowed wet in the hypnotic light from the flames. Overhead, unseen, the clouds glided together; the jungle moved with the wind, swaying with an approaching storm.

"And then… my Dad sent me a letter. He'd heard through an old friend that, that…" Kate sniffed, desperately tried to stop the barrage of sobs she felt approaching. "That Mom was dying. I had to go and see her. She was being treated at the hospital where Tom worked…"

She sobbed relentlessly as she told Jack of the hospital, digging up the capsule; kissing Tom even. How he gazed at her, and she knew how much he still loved her; the guilt, that even though it had only ever been jokes, she knew deep down that by ruining her own life, she'd let him down too. Where was the wedding, the nine kids, the dog? Tom loved his wife, his son, and yet she could see if she asked him to come with her, he would. If she needed anything, his Katie, he'd do it. Because that was just the kind of guy Tom was. The same kind of guy Jack was.

"And then…" She dragged breath through ragged lips, gasping for it as though she herself had just been shot. She could see it now, hear the shots ring out like warning bells; how she had forgotten that her own lack of caring for survival did not include Tom, too. She had willingly driven into the shots; trusting karma too much, believing if a bullet was to find them, it would find her. Her, the arsonist, the murderer maybe, the fugitive. Not Tom. Not innocent, pure, selfless Tom. Her, and it'd make everyone's lives easier.

"Tom… Tom got shot..." It was barely a whisper, but she knew Jack would have heard. She could see from the corner of her eye, him lurch instinctively towards her as the sobs wracked through her, barely giving her time to breathe.

"Oh, Katie…" Jack whispered, the words drowned in her cries. She shook on the spot, the same as she had as they had opened the case, and she had screamed those truths to him like offerings to a god.

"Don't…" She cried through sobs, pushing herself up and away from his opening arms. "Tom got shot, and I didn't. How is that fair, Jack?" Kate took a few steps down to the shore, as the wind picked up yet again, palm trees waving violently, the peaceful stars gone as angry clouds descended.

"Tom got shot, because he was in the car with me. And then I left him…" She was shaking now, her whole body wracked with the grief bottled up for so many years. Jack got to his feet, unsure; reached for her but she moved away, circling, lost in herself.

The rain started, inevitable, fat greedy droplets suddenly soaking the ground. It found the fire like a magnet, saturated the glowing embers, sharp hisses of smoke curling up as the flames died.

"Katie… It's not your fault, he wouldn't get out the car." Jack said it calmly, trying to work his soft tone through to her, past the memories and growing storm which roared over him.

"I should have stopped!" She screeched, yelling at him now, in truth screaming at herself. The rain soaked through her hair, tendrils clinging to her cheeks, jeans saturated in seconds. Across the metre or so between them, Kate screamed at Jack over the first crash of thunder. Her eyes were wild, endless tears mixing with the torrential rain.

"You might never forgive yourself for this!" Jack shouted across to her. "Yeah you should have stopped, Kate! But Tom's dead, and you didn't shoot him, and he died because he loved you too much to let you go alone!" Lightening shuddered down from the sky like a bomb, lighting their screwed up faces, Jack aching at Kate's reddened eyes, the torment raging through her.

Kate shook her head. "But why should I get to live, Jack? Why should I get to survive bullets, and car crashes, and a plane ditching into the sea!" She stumbled under the weight of her grief, the self loathing which dived within her. "Why the hell do I scrape through every time, when all I do is hurt people, get them killed, cause them heartache…" Another bolt of lightening screamed down, lighting in slow motion as Kate's sobs overwhelmed her, and she fell to the sodden ground, mixing her grief into the dirt, curled up.

Jack immediately fell beside her, enclosing her in strong arms, ignoring the slight resistance she put up. She shook beneath him, choking on her own tears for breath… drowning in herself.

"Isn't there a reason for everything? I don't know why Tom had to die, Katie, but I know it wasn't your fault. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I'm not condoning what you did, but you've got to stop blaming yourself…" Jack spoke loudly in her ear, the storm still raging over them, blunting words.

"He loved you. He would have wanted you to live. He wouldn't have wanted you to do this to yourself. Katie… everybody does bad things. Your bad thing was not stopping. Tom's bad thing was not getting out the car. But the worst thing - the shooting - you didn't do that."

"I left him there." It was barely more than a whisper.

"But Kate… you carry him with you in your heart everyday. Constantly putting yourself through this kind of hell - it's not going to bring him back. It's not going to change anything. He would have wanted you to forgive yourself, to let him rest in peace. When he died… it was just his time. And it just isn't yours yet."

She held tight to him, rocking herself back and forth with the rhythm of the thunder. "But then why am I good enough for you? Don't you see, you're so good Jack, you're so perfect-"

"My bad things." He interrupted her. "I nearly let my father get away with being responsible for a girl dying on the operating table. I let a man die, when I knew he was going to die, and treated a les critical girl because it was ihim/I who had crashed his car into her. I delivered a baby naturally, because that's what the mother wanted, when I was a med student… I didn't question it even though I should have… and the cord was wrapped around his neck too long, and he's got permanent brain damage. Can't walk. Can't talk. Can't feed himself, because I was too afraid to speak up."

He could see her looking up at him, the tears still rolling as if on cue.

"We've all done bad things, Katie. It's when we mean to, that makes us a bad person. It's when we go out doing something calculated, that's when it's irreversible, unforgivable. You're not a bad person." These last words he said so close to her, fierce, trying desperately to make her see the truth.

"But I'll never see myself the way you see me, Jack. I'll never see myself as beautiful. I haven't let anyone take my picture, not since Tom died. It's not fair on him, or on little Connor…"

"But that's okay." He whispered now, pressing a kiss into her, the two of them sitting in the dirt and dark as the storm slowly faded away. "That's what we can work on. I know, it might take years, but I love you,, Kate. And this is a big part of who you are."

"Could you live with it?" Kate turned to him, so weakened with screaming and the torment thrashing through her. "Could you accept it, if even in years and years time, there's still a part of me that hates myself? That sees only ugliness, only black?"

Jack considered her question. "I'm not saying I'd be happy with it, or wouldn't try and make you see what I see But I'd accept it, because that's maybe just something you can't change totally."

The storm filtered off to the west, taking the thunder and rain with it. Together they, sat, lay, entwined as one in the starlight, traced with sand and tracks of tears.

"I get it now." Jack whispered to Kate, long minutes later. "I understand."

But her eyes were closed, at peace; soft rhythmic breathing filled and left her body. She was sleeping in the very lap of vulnerability, at home and happy enough to allow herself that luxury. Jack leaned down, kissed the top of her forehead, stroked hair from hiding that face, so full of a peace he hadn't ever seen Kate hold before.

"Sweet dreams." The stars shone down, hidden patterns in the sky; Jack bowed his head, leaned into Kate's fragrant form, inhaled her scent with the new knowledge that all the things she ached to hide, she had trusted him with. All those things left long unexposed, now his to mull over as the night made its slow descent into the morning.

It's amazing… with eyes tight shut in remnants of dreams, they could be any colour. And you know now, no matter what causes them to water and draw tears, and change colour and bring up barriers; you know you can be here, and that she will let you.

"But I will learn to breathe
This ugliness you see,
So we can both be there and we can both share the dark
And in our honesty,
Together we will rise
Out of our nightminds
And into the light at the end of the fire

...And in our honesty, together we will rise
Out of our nightminds
And into the light... at the end of the fire…"