John Locke would never describe himself as the brightest, but as he sat like a waffling duck on the water's edge, he knew that he was the most patient and knew how to remain unseen. He watched as Kate and Sayid dispersed onto the compound, Kate making diligent but quick steps towards the door that Jack had walked through minutes before. Everything was about to change, he thought. He knew that Jack wouldn't be pleased with what he was about to do, that the brunt of anger and rage would fall on his head, because it always had, and he deserved it, but this time, he was as far away from feeling guilty as he could possibly be.
Kate's mission was always different. She wanted to save Jack, to bring him back to the beach, but Locke's aim was always different as well. He wasn't here to be Jack's knight and shining armor. How ridiculous did that sound? Rescuing the hero? Whatever Jack was up to, whatever he was doing with these people, there was a reason for it. Kate's inability to see that rattled him, but she wasn't thinking with her head at all, not even during the trek, when she was borderline shaking, fingers twitching at every mile they bested on the trail. This was a mission of the heart for her, and she was determined to believe only the best about the man she loved, it was just too bad that she might be up for a big fall. Sayid was just a loyal bystander, ready and willing to help Kate find his friend, but time was wasting away.
This was a part of the Island he'd never experienced before, the expansive, normal suburban neighborhood feel the compound possessed, which was incongruently framed by the backdrop of rough mountainside, the jungle at its banks. The houses, side by side, were completely uniform in color and design, void of any individual personality, which was probably to make everyone feel equal, a part of the ever-growing community. There was electricity, running water, he presumed. Everything was so perfect, and only a select number of people knew what Benjamin Linus was truly capable of. He was proud to finally be a part of that group, even if he wasn't formally invited. This was where Ben reigned supreme, and this was where Jack would get off the Island and that just couldn't happen.
A moment later, he was jostled from his thoughts by Kate's painful grunt as she was hauled out of Jack's barracks by one of Ben's security guards. She was trying to fight her capture, but it only made matters worse. It was obvious that the guard could care less if she was injured during the transition, more of a bug on the ground that needed to be squished than a woman who was half his size. Locke wanted to move from the bushes and help her, but he would only end up right next to her, and he had waited too long for this moment, to risk ruining it now. If they wanted to kill Kate, she'd be dead, so she wasn't in any direct danger. Sayid was dragged out soon after, taken in the opposite direction.
"Hey!" Tom bellowed to the guard that was roughly transporting Kate to detainment.
Tom grabbed Kate's arm, and she was suddenly scared. She remembered his voice from when he and a few Others captured her in the jungle, when she trailed Jack, Sawyer and Locke to find Michael. "I'll take her." The guard relented, handing Kate over to the tall, large man that was more like second-in-command. "Head back to the offices, Ben just got word of what went down out here, and he'll want every detail accounted for." The guard nodded and walked towards the office building, leaving Kate in Tom's hands.
"I didn't think I'd see you again so soon, Kate." His sarcasm was just as acidic and potent as Ben's, she thought.
Amid the terror that was barking at her, she found her terrible attitude someplace nearby. "As if I'm here to see you at all." Her voice was toxic with her hatred.
He smiled. She was feisty, completely worked up, just as she was when they caught her alone, tailing Jack and his hunting party in the jungle, and when she refused to work on shelling rocks until she saw him. "What have you people done to Jack?" She was seething now, full-on accusatory.
Tom urged her with the pressure of his hand around her bicep to move towards one of the buildings at the other end of the compound. "Don't you think you should be a little more worried about your own situation? Ben will want answers and he won't stop until he gets them."
She tilted her head, trying to release a curl from the catch of her eyelashes. It finally let loose, dangled in the wind of the cool night. "I saw him playing football with you. He would never do that, knowing what you people did to us, all the pain you put us through."
"Well, then, it seems you don't know Jack at all, because we haven't forced him to do anything he didn't want to do. He's been living here with us, happily, the new compound attraction that saved Ben's life. Everyone has been nothing but indebted and kind." Tom saw the spark of sadness and loneliness in her eyes, with the dim of disappointment. She wasn't helping Jack at all by being here. He didn't need her.
He urged her up a short flight of stairs. "You're lying." She knew better than to trust these people. They were liars, thieves, murderers and she wouldn't trust that Jack was truly safe here until he told her so himself, and even then, she would question his sanity and his sense of loyalty.
He opened a door and lightly pushed her into the center of the game room. "You can believe that we're the bad guys, Kate, if it makes you feel any better about the fact that Jack was less than happy and enthused to see you, but it's not true."
Kate let go of a sardonic chuckle. "You're not the bad guys. Well, tell me what kind of people kidnap a pregnant woman in the hopes of stealing her baby once he's born? What kind of people hang a man from a tree, leaving him to die? What kind of people drag a defenseless woman out into the jungle, bludgeoning her to the point where she's not even conscious? What kind of people kidnap children? If that's not the definition of bad or evil, then I don't know what is."
Tom stood corrected, but he still had more to add. "You know, that's funny Kate, because Jack said the same thing to me once, after you had already gone. You see, he was still in that glass house underground, a prisoner. You remember it, dontcha?" He smiled, and it took everything inside of Kate not to want to rip his tongue out of his mouth.
"Well, anyways, it was after the surgery, and he thought that what he had done, threatening to kill Ben so that he could save you, would get him killed. I expected him to fight, I wanted him to beg for his life, just for the satisfaction of seeing him on his knees, but he wouldn't even give me that. He was ready to die, basically daring me to kill him, because he knew that you were safe." He didn't even know why he was telling her this, but in some sense, he considered Jack a friend, and wanted this poor young girl in front of him to realize just what she rushed back into. This wouldn't be a clean extraction, with Jack agreeing to go back with her. He knew that this was what she still believed, no matter what he just said; his words meant less than nothing to her.
This was making Kate feel incredibly edgy, guilty for what Jack thought would happen to him. He thought that he would die there, alone? It was more than enough to make her cry, tears filling her eyes for the loneliness that Jack must have felt, the abandonment, the fear that he obviously never showed, but she dare not show them to Tom, who would love nothing more than to see her vulnerable and broken. She knew what he was doing by telling her all of this. He wanted her to let Jack go, but she would never give him the satisfaction.
"Jack was pretty intent on not trusting us back then, but we showed him that he could, and believe me or not, he does. He's with us now." He turned to leave, but thought that this was pretty fun, seeing her all ruffled and taken aback, faltering. "By the way, how's the other guy, the dirty blond with the accent that you left the cages with? What was his name? Oh yeah, Sawyer. He approve of you risking your life for the Doctor…again?"
Tom laughed freely, every chuckle battering Kate's already rattled thoughts. She hadn't thought of Sawyer in days, and doubted that she would start at the mention of him, but she did. She left the beach without so much as a 'See you later' or even an invitation to join her in finding the man that saved his life, both of their lives, but why bother? He certainly wouldn't and didn't, running off to play with the boys instead of organizing the rescue party for his so-called friend. She didn't tell him anything, because she knew that he would try to talk her out of what she knew in her soul she had to do, just like he had on the canoe. Lucky for him, all of his points about being unprepared for another go-around with their captors were true, so she let it go for the time being. She regretted nothing, allowing Tom's obvious attempt at throwing her off of her game and making her feel like she didn't belong right where she was to roll down her back.
"I'm gonna let you think about that one. Stay here. Don't do anything stupid. Again." He closed the door behind him before she could protest his instructions.
Locke watched from his crouched position at the compound's edge as one of the larger barracks' windows brightened with faint light. He looked down into his bag, where the explosives were securely packed. He was running out of time. He stood slightly and moved towards the dock, when he suddenly heard a door slamming in the near distance. He crouched back down so as not to be seen, watching the open door. Ben rolled down the wooden ramp at his door and pumped his hands over the wheels of his wheelchair, moving fast through the cool night air. Against his better self, Locke smiled. It brought him great pleasure to see Ben so off of his game, so unsure of what to think or do, even the sight of his feeble legs being carried by a wheelchair made him giddy. As Henry Gale, he had the upper hand the entire time, he knew who he was and what he wanted within their camp, intel, and he'd gotten away clean, leaving blood and sadness smeared all over their camp. Now it was Locke's turn. Now he held the element of surprise, and he too would get away clean.
In that instant, a man, dark hair, tanned complexion, collared shirt with a bag slung over his chest and shoulder, walked onto the courtyard, with steely purpose in his stride. He moved towards the building that Ben just entered, carrying a piece of paper in his hands. Locke felt like something was very weird about that, about a man coming from the darkened depths of the jungle at this time of night with a fragile piece of paper, walking as if the heavens and earth depended on its careful delivery. Who was this man? It was like he had appeared out of nowhere.
He waited some more, because he wasn't sure who would show up next. Moments later, Jack and Tom appeared, walking towards the building where Kate was being held. Eventually, the courtyard was vacant. This was his chance. He moved swiftly, quietly towards the edge of the compound, to the dock station, the water shimmering in the moonlight. Then he waited, watching as a guard stood on patrol, a rifle in his hands, ready and willing to aim and shoot at anything that moved in the still night. Locke moved deftly, with the grace of a crane and the determination of a bull. The guard heard the rustling of leaves and reacted, his rifle's tip pointed in the direction of the sound. The guard moved to inspect it, but there was nothing. Before he could turn around, he felt large hands gripping his face. In one quick snap, Locke twisted the guard's neck, killing him instantly. He walked over the guard's lifeless body, onto the squeaky floorboards of the loading dock. He could see the top bunk of the submarine in his sights. The light at the end of the tunnel, he mused. He pulled out his rifle from the edge of his back and moved towards the submarine. He was home free, but he didn't go far.
"Freeze!" Locke stopped at the throaty command. He heard the guard, Pryce, prepare his weapon for fire. "Drop the gun and put your hands behind your head."
Locke did as he was told, dropping the gun and placing his hands at the back of his head. Pryce inched closer and closer onto the dock, his gun still pointed at Locke's back.
He gripped the cuffs that dangled from his belt, but when he came back up, he met the violent drive of Locke's elbow across his nose, causing him to fall to the ground, losing his balance and his gun. Locke attempted to run for the submarine, but Pryce tripped him, watching as he collapsed to the floor. Pryce dodged Locke's attempts to kick him away as he pulled himself up and mounted himself atop him, determined to stop him. More elbows flew in Pryce's direction, but he missed. In the struggle, a strap of Locke's bag unraveled, sending it to the dock's edge, almost falling into the water. Another elbow connected with Pryce's face, he pulled away with a grunt of pain. Locke made it to his feet, and pulled out his knife from its pocket on his belt, wielding it mightily, daring Pryce to come after him.
Once Pryce caught his bearings, he ran after Locke in a fit of rage. Punches flew and fell, grunts of exertion filtered through the trees. A fiery fist met Locke's nose, blood immediately spewed, his knife flung out of his hand. They kicked each other, going for the knees, the groin, whatever they could. Each fought dirtier and dirtier the longer the fight persisted. Once Pryce was free from attack, he tackled Locke, his shoulder connecting with Locke's midsection, driving him into a nearby post. Locke clasped his hands together and brought them down hard over Pryce's back. The man's grip on Locke loosened, and after one more fatal blow to his back, Locke was free, watching as Pryce crumpled to the floor, tired, beaten, defeated.
Locke picked up his knife, not aware at all that Pryce was reaching feebly for his handgun that lay abandoned nearby. He soon gave up on it, too tired to stretch any further. Locke turned, stood over Pryce's body. Then he kneeled, and for the first time, Pryce could see the bloodthirsty glint in Locke's eyes, his features bloodied and dirty as a dim stream of light from a nearby light-post fell over his face. He would show no mercy. Locke poised the blade of his hunting knife over Pryce's throat, intent to slit it in half, when he heard his name in the distance.
"John!" He looked up to see Ben, with Tom, Richard, and one guard, all of them flanking him on each side. Damn. While Locke's attention was elsewhere, Pryce finally got a hold on his handgun, gripped it and pointed it at Locke's temple.
"Drop the knife…" Pryce instructed through heavy bouts of breathing, and instead of dropping it, Locke steadied his grip on it, pushing the blade a little further into his throat, his eyes never leaving Ben, daring him with the unbreakable gaze. He wasn't going to give up that easily. Killing one of his men right in front of him could be fun, Locke thought.
"Do it now or I'll blow your damn brains out!" Pryce demanded with the raspy, winded groan of his voice. Locke slowly allowed his knife to slip from his hands and away from Pryce's neck, which was red with a smear of blood from a cut that wasn't fatal. Locke allowed Pryce to stand while he stayed crouched to the floor. "Put your hands behind your head and don't even think twice or I will pull this trigger."
Alex, Ben's sixteen-year old daughter, sat in the bushes that separated the dock from the rest of the compound. She saw everything. The very physical, very bloody, cutthroat battle between Pryce and Locke, a man she'd never seen before, but was obviously very dangerous and very lethal. She managed to stay hidden, until her father showed up with three guards, and then she had to make her presence known, because he would never allow her around this kind of situation, but she wanted him to see that she could handle the world that he continually kept a secret from her, that she wasn't this little princess that needed his protection.
"How did I know you'd be here?" Ben was now inches away from Locke's crouched position on the floor.
Locke sniffed, trying to determine if Pryce had broken his nose. It spilled with more blood. "Hello Ben. You miss me?"
"Not nearly as much as I thought I would." He looked over at the backpack, which was slightly open, revealing. "I take it you're not here to see that Jack makes it back to your camp." He noticed the mischievous glint in Locke's eyes. Good things never came about because of it. "What's in the bag, John and why were you headed for my submarine?"
A guard grabbed Locke's bag, revealing a heavy bundle of C-4 explosives to Ben. He recognized the labeling and the packaging. He was resourceful, and sneaky, and up to something bigger than mere revenge. He was trying to keep Jack on the Island by blowing up the submarine.
"Dad!" Alex said, revealing herself from behind the bushes. "What's going on?" She looked up to see Locke at his knees, hands behind his head, the barrel of Pryce's handgun still pointed at his temple, blood trailing down the front of his shirt. They looked even graver up close, she thought, both men bloody and bruised, like they'd just come from a death-match, the obvious victors. The vision startled her and forced her to want to stop whatever was about to happen. "Are you gonna kill him?"
"Alex, go home." Ben instructed. Locke watched the exchange carefully. Everything about Ben changed when he believed that his daughter had witnessed even a second of this. Ben was worried about his daughter, protective, fiercely so. She just might be the only thing that Benjamin Linus ever cared about. Locke took note of that as he watched her scoff at her father's command.
Alex made a move akin to stomping her foot in defiance. "You always say that! I just—"
"Alex, I said go home. Now!" Ben's patience was spent, waning between Locke and Alex, an enemy who wanted to thwart his every move and a teenage daughter who tried her best to defy him at every turn. "Tom, get her out of here." Tom walked towards Alex, and she knew that there was no escape, no compromise, and no way would she be allowed to see how this played out.
"Come on sweetie, lets get you home." Tom said, watching as Alex rolled her eyes at him. She backed away from the dock, headed home, with Tom right behind her.
Ben took in Locke's bloody, battered expression. "I have to hand it to you, John. I almost overlooked the docks, simply because I thought that whoever would be out here, waiting in the wings, would just come after me."
"Not everything is about you, Ben." Locke reminded him.
Footsteps approached, two to three people tops. From around the bushes, Jack, Juliet and a guard revealed themselves, stepping onto the prelude platform, before the wooded bridge of the docks. Juliet was the first to turn, taking in the scene before her. She stopped. Jack stopped at her abruptness, and turned to where she was looking. The only figure he cared to notice was a dilapidated John Locke, bloodied, brought to his knees, a gun pointed at his head.
"John?" Jack never thought he'd ever have to see Locke ever again, even hoped for it in some cases. It was just his luck that he put himself right in the middle of the Island and the submarine, his means of rescue for them all. "What are you doing here?"
Locke shrugged, smirking a little, blood drying over his lips, and down his chin. "I'm sorry, Jack. I had to try."
Jack's pulse sped up to a dangerous tempo. "Try to do what?" He could literally feel the headache coming on.
"Try to keep you on the Island, Jack." Ben filled in the details, happy to spin them while he was at it. "He came with Kate and Sayid, not to save you, but to blow up the submarine. He's trying to trap you here, Jack. Yet again. And he would have succeeded if I hadn't decided to come out and check the docks myself, to ensure that you depart safely." Locke could hear the pretense in Ben's voice. This trip to the docks had nothing to do with Jack, and everything to do with Ben sending a very powerful message, that it was impossible to go unseen and unheard, not on his turf. This was all about exerting his power.
Jack's eyes turned dark, and not just any dark, pitch black. "You son of a bitch." He never knew hatred like this for another human being, but his feelings for John Locke went far and beyond what he thought was possible in his heart. He hated him, for what he always did, especially for what he was doing right now. This time, he'd gone too far. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Locke shook his head. "I'm not doing this to you, Jack, I'm doing this for you."
Jack let go of a sharp, sarcastic huff, his eyes burning with distrust and defiance. "Are you insane?" He moved closer. "For me? You're blowing up a submarine and it's all for me." Jack's tone ran the gamut of enraged to all-out incensed within seconds. He approached, his fists ready to pummel Locke's face until it was black and blue. "What is it that you think you know? Why is this Island so important to you? Huh? Answer me!"
"Jack." Juliet brought her hand to his forearm, urging him to back off. Locke had been through enough, Juliet though. She can only be grateful that he was caught. If it weren't for that, she would gladly allow Jack to rip him apart.
"I know enough Jack. I know that from the moment we all arrived here, there was something about this place that brought us here. None of this is a coincidence." Locke turned his eyes to Ben, who sat watching the exchange with a pleased grin on his face. He had to love this. "Ben wants you to believe that he's doing you a favor, but he's not Jack. He's only out for himself. Nothing he ever does has anything to do with anyone but himself."
Jack scoffed, exaggeratedly. "So, this has nothing to do with you, John? Blowing up the submarine is your valiant effort to save me from my own destruction? Is that right? No, you're doing this for yourself." Locke protested, but Jack ignored it. "It doesn't matter. I've heard enough of your bull about destiny and being brought here for a reason. It all started with that damn hatch and that button."
Locke's voice went into a full growl, pleading, just as frustrated with Jack as he was with him. "Don't you remember why Desmond was down there Jack? Don't you remember why he felt the need to push that button? Because he thought he was saving the world. We decided not to press it one day, to let the clock run down to zero, but it imploded Jack. The hatch imploded, it's gone. I believe it now. I believe in what Desmond was doing. He was—"
"I won't listen to this," Jack barked, and brought an impatient hand through his hair. "Desmond thought he was saving the world, but he wasn't. The hatch is gone you said, but look at us, John, we're still right here, right now. Nothing has changed. My leaving the Island won't change anything. It won't affect anything. It's all a bunch of lies you told to make yourself feel like you belong somewhere. Well, I don't belong here, John. Maybe you do, but I don't."
"This is your destiny, Jack. The more you fight it, the longer it'll haunt you."
His teeth clinched, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, but there was a pause, as if Jack was deliberating what Locke was telling him. He noticed the slow pace of thought. Jack's eyes steadied, then blinked. Was that sympathy Locke saw in his eyes? Maybe even respect, some shard of acknowledgement long buried coming to the surface? If Locke had blinked, he would have missed it, that's how swift it came and went. "I told you, I don't believe in destiny. I never have and I never will."
He could see the denial, the struggle, in Jack's eyes, in how the anger seemed to drain from his features, and nothing was left but an uneasy resignation. It was the mirror image of the look he shot in his direction when they debated over the hatch door, and the rare opportunity it presented to learn more about the place he claimed to despise.
"Yes you do Jack. You just don't know it yet."
What Locke thought he saw in Jack had left with the cool wind that swept over the dock. "The last time you said that to me, I helped you open that hatch door, not because of some grand destiny, but because I thought that every man, woman and child on that beach was in danger, but I let it get out of control. Desmond left and there we all were, stuck pressing a button we had no real explanation for, because I didn't stop you from making everyone believe that it meant something."
He was content to blame himself for the monster of John Locke, because he hadn't done an effective job of keeping the group safe from him, from his influences, his wild goose chases, his imagination. Boone had already paid the ultimate price, and Jack would get off the Island, and come back before anyone else could fall victim to it. "But it didn't mean anything. Your precious Island is just a speck of ink on a map, John. I'm sorry, but that's all it ever was."
Locke's eyes never wavered. "It's important to you too Jack. You just can't admit that to yourself yet, but you will." He grunted against the hissing sting that shot from the bridge of his nose. "When you get off this Island, when you see your world without it, you'll do anything to get back here again".
Jack shook his head, sadly. The old man will never learn. "You want to know what I'm really sorry about, John? I'm sorry that you're just a lonely old man who wants to be special." The hurt in Locke's eyes was palpable, heart-wrenching. He bowed his head, crushed. In that moment, Jack scored. The final nail was in the coffin and there was no way to pull it back out.
"Goodbye John." He turned his back on Locke and walked up to Ben.
"I take it your time with Kate was adequate enough for a proper goodbye."
Jack nodded shortly. "Yes. It was. You remember our deal? The second that sub leaves, you let Kate and Sayid go."
"Yes, I remember Jack. What about John? You don't seem too worried about what happens to him." Ben cocked his head in Locke's direction.
"That's because I'm not." Jack shook Ben's hand, and that only fueled the bout of defeat that bubbled in Locke's chest. Jack took Juliet's hand, and looked into her eyes. "You ready to go?"
She smiled at his handsome face, her fingers squeezing lightly over his large palm. "Absolutely."
They walked down the length of the dock, hand in hand. Ben watched them, a gleam of jealousy in his eyes; he blinked it away and eventually turned to Locke. He knew that his old friend could read the deceit and treachery in his eyes. Locke knew in the depths of his soul that Jack leaving this Island was the worst fate imaginable for them all, but Ben seemed completely satisfied, almost at peace watching Jack walk towards the submarine. Locke's groans of resistance traveled down the dock, for Jack to hear as he boarded the submarine.
"You can't do this, Jack!" Locke was at his most open, his most desperate. "Jack! You're making a mistake! Jack! JA—" Before he could plead any longer, one of the guards tied a tattered cloth over his mouth, tying it tightly at the base of his head. Locke still screamed over the bondage, his throat raw.
The edge of the handle of Pryce's handgun crashed down over the back of Locke's head. He collapsed to the ground, his cheek hugging the cracked wood of the dock floor. His eyes fought to stay open, and in their fight, landed on Ben's deceptive beam. Then there was nothing, nothing but darkness.