Runner

Summary: When Jack gets emotional help from a survivor, Kate finds herself feeling jealous.

Disclaimer: Lost belongs to J.J. Abrams and Co. at ABC, and the idea from this fic came from discussion at the Jater couch at the fuselage.

Noon came slowly these days, crawling in the space between morning and night, a time where your mind was pushed to wake up before drifting away again. But none of that seemed to matter when you were underground apartment on an island. On an island.

Jack breathed in deeply as the green symbol on the computer blinked at him, reminding him of his current duty. Even as he typed in the numbers he almost regretted doing so, because with each number, with each trip to the caves, with each step on the beach, the situation became more and more real; and Jack still wasn't ready to face it. Two of theirs were missing. Aaron had recently gotten sick, making Claire even more paranoid than she already was- than she should be. They were hoarding a prisoner, locking him up against his will and keeping him secret from everyone else. Hell, had they all been rescued Kate wouldn't need to be the only one on the run.

Kate. Of all people to make angry, Jack's emotions burst out on Kate's one mistake, which really wasn't even a mistake. She was only trying to help, he kept reminding himself. She care's. But right now, Kate was off somewhere, her whereabouts unknown to Jack. Of course, she was a runner.

But seeing Kate with a gun pointed to her head did it for Jack. He felt like a teenager, unable to maintain control of his emotions. All at once he was scared, angry, disappointed, worried, scared..what if the others hadn't of presented himself to them? What would they have done to Kate? Jack shivered. He forced those thoughts away. He couldn't let himself be like this, especially if he couldn't even be sure that Kate felt the same way about him. Cared about him like he cared about her. What would Kate have done had the tables turned that night? Maybe she didn't even want Jack to save her, Sawyer was there, after all. But she had looked at him. Once again the symbol blinked, and Jack forced his thoughts away. In his own way, Jack was also a runner.

"Jack?"

Jack turned quickly, face changing with the movement, becoming a practiced mask of concern. He stood up, greeting his visitor. Libby.

"Hey," he offered, relaxing a little as he sat back down, casually easing into the chair and resting his arm on the computer desk, "something wrong?"

Libby smiled gently, almost as if she predicted the question.

"I just came to do some laundry," she explained, "if you don't mind."

She brushed her long hair behind her ear, a common mark of nerves- one that he never saw in Kate. Kate was too professional to show off such feeling.

Across from him Libby crossed her arm over her chest. She was watching him, studying him with a trained eye.

"You okay?"

Jack blinked. That was the last question he expected from Libby.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. Jack glanced around the room in hopes of Libby not being able to detect the lie in his eye.

Libby continued to study him, and he felt himself growing nervous. He didn't like people seeing his guard let down, especially when they looked up to him. These people depended on him, and Jack hated to think of what would happen if they knew the guy he really was. The guy he turned into when he walked out of the room. The guy under the mask. But somehow, Jack had a feeling that Libby was able to see right through all of that.

At last Libby broke their contact, looking down with a smile.

"I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard that," she joked lightly, "that would make up for all the money I didn't get teaching-" Jack raised an eyebrow, "I use to teach freshmen history-" she shook her head at the memory, though still smiling, "it wasn't for me." She winked. "In the previous life I was a clinical psychologist."

"Really?" Jack said impressed. "You should've spoke up sooner, I could've used your help."

This time it was Jack's turned to wink. Libby smiled back, blushing a little, which made Jack smile. He had a friend who always used to say Jack had a natural way with human. Jack himself never understood that comment.

A moment passed and Jack's mind drifted away, back to his previous thoughts. It wasn't that difficult, the way Kate would sometimes just sway into his mind. Sometimes it'd be quick, riding in like a low-tide wave, while other times her image would linger, her smile pasting itself over all sensible thoughts. Thoughts of Kate would run over him, while in reality, she was running past him. It hurt him to think that used to it seemed like she was running towards him- and maybe she was still- but so many obstacles would get in the way that the thought of the two of them together seemed so insane that Jack would laugh at himself.

"Yeah, well for the next scraped knee, I'm your girl," Libby laughed.

Another awkward pause passed, and Jack suddenly felt himself feeling very intimidated. He knew Libby was studying him, and now he knew that she knew what she was doing.

"So your dad died, huh?" Libby spoke up sympathetically.

Jack looked at her in surprise. He stared at her for a moment, thinking about what she just said. His dad was dead. Like Kate, this was something that was usually forced aside, washed away by denial. At times a part of him would still think his father would walk through the door at any moment. Whenever he had a patient to work on, he could still hear his voice over his shoulder. His dad was everywhere around him, yet at the same time he seemed so far away.

"Yeah," he admited quietly, swallowing hard, "how'd you know?"

Libby offered him a sympathetic smile.

"Just something about you," she said simply. Jack nodded, though that wasn't what he wanted to hear. Libby smiled at him again. "Hey, if you ever need to talk.."

"You're my girl," Jack finished for her, not being able to help but to smile a little.

A soft beeping noise came from a far room, and Libby turned slightly red at the sound.

"That's my cue," she said, and gave him a final smile before leaving the room.

Jack watched her leave, pondering Libby's character. He never thought much of her and didn't really know her, but she seemed nice. And she seemed to know him. Very well.

"You know," he heard Libby say as she entered the room again, carrying a pile of laundry in a blue basket, "when I was little I always wondered why Mr. and Mrs. Howl were able to have so many different clothes-" she dropped the pile onto the couch, letting them collapse, throwing her hands out in relief before sitting them on her hips, studying the basket. "Now I understand."

She grinned at Jack. After a moment he realized that he was staring at her, and shook himself back to reality. There was something in Libby that reminded him of Kate. The smile was one, though it didn't have nearly the effect that Kate's did. Or maybe it was the fact that she was able to read him so well. Thinking those thoughts about Libby almost made him feel guilty, like he was cheating on Kate. But they weren't even talking right now. Jack swallowed again.

"Let me help you with those," he offered.

"Oh, it's fine," Libby said with a chuckle, picking up two serrate socks and beginning to fold them.

"No, allow me," Jack appeared by Libby's side almost automatically and smiled at her, "I have to be down here anyway."

They locked eyes for a moment before Libby nodded, once again brushing the same strand of hair behind her ear.

"All right," she agreed, "though I have to warn you, you never know someone until you've done their laundry."

Jack let out a nervous chuckle and picked up the first top he saw, and stopped. It was familiar, a woman's orange top. Kate's. Of course.

"Jack?"

He turned, half-expecting to see Kate standing beside him. But Libby was still there, smiling at him awkwardly.

"You okay?" She asked again.

"Fine," Jack lied again.

For the next few minutes they were silent, and Jack realized he was still holding Kate's shirt. He was clutching it tightly, as if desperate to become apart of it. What he really wanted to do was become a part of Kate. The person she could trust, depend on..he wanted to be that person. He needed to be that person.

"You kissed her, didn't you?"

Jack looked at Libby in surprise. She grinned.

"Yeah," Jack admitted. "How'd you know?"

"I'm a psychiatrist," she reminded him with a wink. "So..how was it?"

Jack snorted.

"Seriously," Libby was still grinning as she continued to fold towels.

"It was..great," Jack confessed truthfully. The scene played before him as it had done repetivily after it took place, of Kate's tears, his hold on her, the kiss.. "And then she ran."

"Oh."

All of Jack's behavior seemed to make sense to Libby just then, and she became quiet in sympathy.

"I'm sorry," she said honestly.

"Don't be," Jack said, shaking her head.

Really, what could Jack have expected? After all, Kate was a runner.

"So your dad," Libby began after a long pause. Jack figured she thought this would be a nice subject change. Little did she know.. "How'd he die?"

Kate's shirt nearly slipped from his hands at the question, and Jack closed his eyes tightly, determined to regain mental strength.

"Heart attack," Jack said at last, "he was..an alcoholic."

Libby shot him a sympathetic glance.

"I'm sorry," she said again, and continued folding clothes for the next few moments. "Do you drink?"

Jack was slightly taken abback by the question; not many were that brave.

"No," Jack said, "not really."

"Good for you," Libby said with a smile, "alcoholism is genetic, you know."

"Yeah," Jack mumbled.

Though his father didn't seem to be too worried about the possibility of him following in his father's footsteps, Jack himself was. He was always careful to avoid risky behaviors, though it cost him many possible friendships.

"It must be hard, huh?" Libby said. "Have you ever told anyone?"

"About my father?" Jack shook his head. "Only Kate."

Libby smiled, and Jack got had a feeling that she suspected the answer.

"Well at least you have it easy," Libby said optimistically, "no relatives, no sitting through the funerals, going through his things.."

She trailed off, clearly expecting Jack to follow her lead, but he didn't. Those were the things that he wanted to do. He wanted to put everything to rest..he needed to. And now he'd never get that chance.

"No one else will either," Jack said, "his body was on the plane."

"Oh," Libby said quietly, "I'm sorry."

He knew Libby meant well, but he was getting aggravated with the sympathy. On this island, when secrets were told they usually didn't remain private for very long, and he didn't want everyone to know his problem. He was afraid everyone would look at him differently, or worse, be like Libby with the non-stop sympathy. Always trying to help him. Jack didn't mind it, but he didn't want to appear weak either.

"You've done good, you know," Libby said after a long pause, "I'm proud of you."

Jack couldn't help but to smile. Those were the words he never heard enough.

"Sorry," said a new voice, sounding both embarrassed and nervous, "I didn't think anyone would be down here."

Jack felt his heart stop. He clutched the sock he was about to fold, trying not to breathe. His breathing would be rasp and heavy, giving away his own nerves. Beside him, Libby looked frozen as well, but eased into a smile. She brushed her hand against Jack's arm, and he knew she wanted him to turn around. And he knew he had to.

"Hey," he choked out, forcing himself to turn around.

Kate was standing there, a hand frozen in her hair. A long moment passed by, and Libby spoke up, knowing that neither Jack nor Kate would make the first move.

"We were just doing some laundry," Libby explained, "we'll get out of your way."

She looked up at Jack, who was still staring at Kate, trapped in some kind of trance. He couldn't believe his luck, if you could call it that. They were just talking about Kate. It was as though Libby set this whole thing up. Who knew, maybe she did. He felt a tug at his hand, and looked down to see Libby forcing the sock out of his grip. There was that awkward smile again.

"I'll take this into the bedroom," she offered, and walked away with the tub of laundry in tow.

Now Jack was sure Libby was doing this on purpose, leaving him with Kate. They stared at each other for a few minutes, both having too much they wanted to say. Lines they had each rehearsed over and over again for days, waiting for this moment they each prayed for. But as it always was with love stories, when the moment came, they were both frozen with fear. At last Kate cleared her throat, and Jack felt his initial nerve leave him.

"So.." Kate cleared her throat. Knowing that Kate was just as nervous about facing him as he was with her. "Libby seems nice."

Jack nodded. Good, a topic that wasn't about him. But then again, Jack knew they wouldn't be able to avoid the situation forever. This wasn't like the case, where Jack could solve it with a nice gesture and some flirting. No, this situation was much more serious. They had kissed. That was big. When he was younger, Jack would've given anything to just be able to talk to a girl like Kate. Though, of course, his father would've never approved. It almost seemed easier now that he wasn't there, and a sense of defeat came over him just knowing that there was a possibility of him and Kate. But now that defeat seemed so far away, so distant that it wasn't defeat. It was failure.

"Yeah, she is," Jack heard himself say.

Kate looked around, and Jack felt slightly hurt knowing that she was looking for a distraction. But then, was it fair that he got to feel that way and she didn't? Part of Jack felt that Kate was the person to blame..she was the one that ran, after all. But the part of him feared something greater. He wasn't as perfect as Kate accused him of being. Had Kate seen that part of him? Jack looked down.

"So what did you talk about?" She asked him quietly. It was as if she were afraid of the answer.

"My father," Jack replied. He looked up. "She's a psychiatrist."

"Oh," Kate swallowed, hard, "so then..you went to her?"

Now Jack was realizing his mistake. Kate was..jealous?

"She came to me, actually," Jack said defensively.

Kate looked hurt at the answer, and Jack knew he was right. She wanted to talk to him. She knew he'd be down here, alone. Kate was wanting to talk about all the things he and Libby had talked about, but his avoidance never gave her the chance.

"I should be going," Kate said quietly, "Sun's waiting for me."

He didn't even bother asking Kate's reason for coming to the hatch in the first place. He already knew. And instead of trying to work things out or apologize, Jack let her leave. After all, Kate wasn't the only runner.

Author's Note: It's possible that I might do a companion/sequel to this, but I'll have to do a little bit of planning first. Thanks for reading!

October Sky