She was at a coffee shop in Brighton when she heard. There was a radio broadcast. She left the shop without paying, caught a taxi and arrived at the nearest airport in record time. She still had leftover money from what she'd taken from Sawyer, and she bribed the officials to let her on the next plane to LA. She lied and told them that her husband and children had just been in a house fire and she had been mugged on the way to the airport. She always kept her money in her shoe, she explained, but her passport and IDs were all gone. They let her on after much hand-wringing, and by the evening, the plane landed in LA. A taxi took her to the house, where she learned from Sayid what had happened.

For the year after she had left, Jack had slowly crumbled. His colleagues said he had no spirit anymore, and they assumed it was because his wife had been murdered. The coroner had learned of Elaine's pregnancy and the manhunt was on, though the police did not know who they were looking for. He had talked with some of the others, told them how depressed he was. He attended all of the Flight 815 gatherings that year, and everyone noticed how much older he looked. At the gathering in April, he had told them he would like to throw the Independence Day party again. It was the last time any of them saw Jack alive.

The official cause of death was two self-inflicted gunshot wounds, one to his head, one to his heart. Two guns, two bullets. One dead doctor. Someone handed her a hastily scribbled note, addressed simply, Kate. She opened the envelope slowly. The others backed away, sensing her need for space. The handwriting was shaky, dated only the week before. Tiny wrinkles in the paper showed her he'd been crying when he wrote it.

I see you every night in my dreams. I know you'll never come back because you think I hate you. I'm going crazy, and I haven't been able to continue my life. I lost them, and I lost you in a week's time. It's been a year, and nothing's changed. This is better, trust me. I'm sorry for what I did. I know you'll understand.

At his funeral, she sat in stony silence, rising only when they were allowed to file past his coffin to pay their respects. Jack's mother, draped in black, was sobbing. The casket was open, and the funeral parlor had done an amazing job of fixing him. He was still pale, but he looked more at peace than she'd ever seen him. She began to cry, and Hurley came to hug her, patting her back. Jack's mother came from her grief to glare at Kate.

"You!" she spat, voice full of venom. "It was you, you little whore. You ruined his life!" She proceeded to scream obscenities at Kate, who blanched, taking a step back. As the woman piled insults, Kate just stood there, taking it. The congregation sat in shocked silence, until Kate felt Sayid pulling her away. A man in an expensive suit pulled the screaming woman back, whispering something about respect for her son.

"It's her fault he's done this to himself!" She shrieked, then broke down into sobs against Jack's casket, crying, "First his father, now him!"

Sayid guided her to the front door. "Maybe it's best if you leave now, Kate." He told her seriously. She shook her head, trying to pull away. She had to get to Jack. Maybe he was still alive. Why was everyone standing there? Why weren't they digging? Jack was trapped in the cave, why was everyone just letting him die? She tried to get to the pile of stones, but something was holding her back...

"Kate!" Sayid raised his voice slightly, bringing her back to the present. She was breathing heavily, and a number of people were staring at her.

"Go. There's nothing more for you here. Please, leave."

She left the funeral parlor and wandered aimlessly through downtown Los Angeles. Over the next month, her mugshot flashed across television screens and was tacked up in post offices and public places. There was no doubt in her mind that he had turned her in before he had killed himself, perhaps to justify his death for her own. They arrested her as she tried to flee the country, and the judge condemned her to death by lethal injection. She waited in prison for six long years before it was her turn, not allowed to receive visitors, though no one came, not even the other survivors. In her last weeks, pale and too skinny from prison food, she asked to see a priest, even though she wasn't Catholic, and she confessed. As they strapped her into the chair, she thought, maybe, if there was a heaven, if she could get in, Jack would surely be there, waiting for her. Her breathing increased rapidly, and for once, she had never been so afraid in her entire life. Her mind flickered back to a day nearly a decade ago, when she had come to in the middle of the jungle, her handcuffs gone and wandered into a clearing, coming upon a shirtless man kneeling in the sand. Remembering her sudden fear, remembering his warm smile, friendly face, assurance that yes, she could do this.

She let the fear in. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. And it was gone.

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A/N: Tell me what you think, it means a lot. I hope the ending wasn't too depressing for everyone.