Kate opened her eyes, blinking furiously. Through the tiny slits of her swollen eyelids, she felt the sunlight streaming through the windows of the game room's doors, stinging her already sensitive vision. She must have cried herself to sleep after Jack left; she had the headache and scratchy eyes to prove it. Everything was so cold, the concrete beneath her, the handcuffs around her tender wrists, the watch that was now resting lightly in her palm. Her heart felt like it dropped into the center of the Earth, it no longer felt like it was a part of her, broken pieces scattered, unclaimed.

She brushed her now fuzzy curls away from her forehead, and forced her brittle bones to rise. She backed herself up against one of the pool table's legs and bent her knees, propping her head onto them as she allowed the last few hours to sink in. Jack had actually left her there, but he was still doing things for her, promising to come back for her. Her eyes landed on the empty folding chair, where he once sat, where she last saw him, talked to him, touched him. It was the last straw that held her emotions together, it buckled under the pressure. She felt the hot, angry tears release from her eyes, and all control slipped from her fingers. She wept; small murmurs of sobs grew louder, until she couldn't breathe. She took a moment to catch her breath and found she lost it just the same. She swiped at her tears, trying with all the strength she had left to reel them in, but looked down at the watch that he left in her care, a ray of sunlight tinkering over the large band. Against the sadness that settled over her, she smiled as she wiped at her cheeks. She would care for it with everything she had until he returned, until she could give it back to him.

She heard someone open the game room's door slowly, as if not to disturb her. She scrambled, pushing the watch into her pocket before her visitor could enter and see it, and ultimately take it from her, the only thing of Jack, besides her memories and good faith, she had left.

"G'mornin', Kate." Tom stopped at the door, watching as Kate scratched at her swollen eyes, her head pulsating with an ache that wouldn't go away anytime soon. She looked terrible, broken, destroyed. Compassion swelled inside of him, seeing this small woman, who was so mighty and full of fire turned into the heaving pile of wreckage overnight. "Sleep well?"

She said nothing, just stared off into the distance, unmoved, uncaring, as if Tom hadn't walked into the room. Of course she didn't sleep well, and if it wasn't for the bout of exhaustion the previous days' events had caused, she wouldn't have slept at all. She realized that she knew what Jack had felt after she and Sawyer escaped the cages. He was alone; he thought he was going to die, certain of it, daring Tom to go through with it, just so the pain could go away. She felt the same at this point, she found herself void of any concern for her well being. Ben wasn't going to just let her go, that much she knew. He could very well have had Tom come in here to finish her off, to bloody his hands with her. What she gathered of him from her extensive exposure to his cunning and conniving ways, he would do with her whatever he pleased, and she couldn't find the nerve to care.

She wiped at the moisture that settled over her upper lip, abandoned tears pooling there. Her voice was harsh, cracked. "Jack's really gone, isn't he?" This wasn't a dream. The watch proved that he was gone, that it was all a very present reality, but she just needed someone to confirm it for her. Was it desperate that she already missed him so much she couldn't fathom another day of this…emptiness?

Tom shook his head. "Yeah, he left last night." She bowed her head in her hands; her headache was rearing its ugly head again. "I'm sorry, Kate." None of the Others had any idea that Jack planned to come back, but it still hadn't set in for her yet, that he was gone. She couldn't get past him no longer being attainable, to even be happy that he was coming back. She remembered trying to tell him just how much it meant to her that he was around, not just for her, but for everyone. 'If you weren't here, Jack…'. He nodded, because he understood. He just…understood. Now she would have to live on the other side of that coin. She couldn't even articulate what her world would be like without him, and now she had to live it, for however long it would take him to come back. It was the most terrifying she'd ever felt.

She let out a long, frail breath. "Where's Sayid?"

Tom came closer, standing over her. "He's nearby. Safe. A little banged up, but safe." He cocked his head, watching her massage her achy temples. "Aren't you gonna ask about John Locke? Seeing as how he's here too."

Her gaze shot to his, her mouth opened, but Tom brought his hand up to stop her from telling another lie. "One of the guards found him on the dock with a bag full of C-4. He was gonna blow up the submarine, Kate. Did you know he was trying to do that?"

Damnit, she thought. She knew, somewhere deep down that Locke had no real interest in saving Jack, but she never thought that his insistence on taking the dynamite had anything to do with blowing up a submarine. She should have seen his true intent when he pushed Mikhail through the pylons, when she had plans to trade his life for Jack's. He was making his own plans, objectives that often conflicted with her own. How did he even know that Jack was planning to leave the Island? She thought. John Locke was still a mystery to her, and quite frankly, a mystery she didn't care to solve. He was his own problem, not hers, but she couldn't stop the guilt from seeping in. She brought him along, she accepted his help, and if he had succeeded in his attempts to stop Jack, he wouldn't have gotten off the Island. She didn't quite know how to feel about that. Her emotions were still caught in between the torrent of losing Jack and the hopeful prospect of rescue, of getting as far away from this place as possible. She was beginning to believe that prison provided a new amicable atmosphere than this Island ever did.

"I had no idea what he was planning to do." She answered honestly, shaking her head.

Tom could actually tell that Kate had no idea what Locke's aims were. She couldn't have possibly faked the surprise in her eyes. "Get up, let's go."

She stayed on the ground, her legs not moving an inch, but her eyes were bugged, startled. "Where are you taking me?"

Tom could hear the fear and distrust in her voice, and he was getting pretty tired of it. "Oh, I'm just gonna take you out back, shoot you in the head and let you fall into the mass grave that we dug." She didn't appreciate his sarcasm, rolling her eyes at him as he chuckled, his wide girth jiggled as he did so. "It's pretty convenient keeping all the dead bodies in one place."

She rose to her feet, using the pool table at her back to steady herself. She went willingly to Tom, who still stood at the door. She looked up at him, her eyes blank, lifeless, her cheeks stained with her cries. She wiped at the remnants of her tears, but really no longer averse to Tom or anyone seeing how devastated she was. The cuffs had chaffed her skin, small blisters, scrapes formed over her wrists, but Tom made no move to remove them. He just took her upper arm in his hand and ushered her out into the morning sun.

They eventually stood on the porch of one of the barracks. Tom proceeded to play out a special knock on the front door, a secret code for entrance. The door was opened by a guard that Kate recognized from the night before, the one who was intentionally throwing her around. He cocked his head, allowing the two of them entrance into the quaint living area of the home. Kate looked around, assessing her surroundings. Pictures of a young girl with curly brown locks just like her own were scattered over the walls. Several bookcases packed with bookends were aligned next to the charming love-seats, covered with an array of homey quilts. Tom brought her to the kitchen, turning her around a corner until she saw Ben, sitting at the dining table with an array of staple breakfast foods placed in front of him. Kate's temper immediately went into overdrive at just the sight of him. He brought out the very worst in her, for good reason. There was something about his face that made her want to punch his lights out, repeatedly, until she drew blood.

"Good morning, Katherine." Ben dropped the newspaper that he was reading next to his plate, a fluffy stack of pancakes sat on the ceramic dish, a light aroma of smoke floated in the air, reaching the famine of her nostrils. "You can remove those cuffs, Tom."

Tom shook his head. "You sure about that, boss? I don't—"

Ben eyed Tom with scathing playfulness. "She's not going anywhere, Tom. There are three guards outside that door that will have her back in place if she tries anything." Tom pulled out a set of keys and removed the cuffs from Kate's raw wrists. He looked between her and Ben, somewhat nervous about what Ben was pretty confident about. "You can leave now, Tom." Ben droned, watching as Tom realized that he was intruding on whatever Ben had planned. He exited the room, leaving Kate to Ben's devices. She rubbed at the irritated skin of her wrists, her eyes meeting his and then crawled over the surfaces and details of his kitchen. He kept his gaze on her, just as scrutinizing and painfully cryptic as ever.

His hand extended to indicate the empty chair right across from him. "Please sit. There's plenty for the both of us."

She hesitated at first, but decided that rebelling at this point wouldn't do any good. She was captured, surrounded, so she sat down, but not without her personal perusal of the man across from her. She took a seat, noticed the folded newspaper next to his thin glass of orange juice. "They have papers on the Island?" Was her meager attempt at small talk.

"They do on this side of the Island." Ben revealed, flapping the paper into the air, before dropping it back to where it sat on the end of the table. "I get them specially delivered by the bundle every other week. I like to keep up with current events."

She knew that the Others had contact with the outside world, from what Mikhail told her during the trek about the station he was working in. Ben was blocking the signal somehow, he had to be, which explained why that first trek to catch a signal for the transceiver was an abominable failure. He took control of their rescue prospects from the moment their plane crashed, and it made her hate him even more. She let the subject fall to the ground, and struck right at the heart of her current curiosity. "Why are you feeding me breakfast?"

Ben's thin lips curved into a nostalgic smile. "Because I wanted to invite you into my home, because you must be hungry, and because I have no intention of sending you on your way on an empty stomach. You traveled a very long way to rescue Jack, it must hurt that he left you behind anyways." He knew that last ding would hurt, and it had. He watched as her eyes fell to her lap. He poured steaming hot coffee into his cup, a curt smile on his face. "It's just like old times. You and me, pouring coffee over a nice fruit bowl, eggs, waffles. All that's missing is a nice view of the water, the sand."

Kate cracked a small, mocking smile, her eyes steaming with annoyance. This wasn't about her stomach; this was Ben sticking her nose into the obvious pain she felt because Jack left, even though she came back, pleading on her knees that he stay. He was merely pouring salt over her wounds.

"We're missing more than that. Drugging me, kidnapping me and forcing me into a dress that belongs to your daughter, before you throw me into a filthy bear cage." Her smile had been wiped off her face long ago, and it brought Ben's unnervingly cheerful mood down a notch or two. It was obvious that Kate wasn't as forgiving as Ben hoped she would be. It was her turn to ignite the sarcasm. "Other than that, yeah, just like old times."

He laughed, bringing his coffee cup to his lips, sipping the piping hot liquid with care. Her fire had returned, as if it never left. "Touché."

He dropped his coffee cup back in its proper place before picking up his knife and fork. "I hope that spending those last moments with Jack helped you with the transition. I actually advised him against going to see you, but he insisted." He went back to cutting his mountain of pancakes into bite-size pieces. "It was simply foolish of you to come back here, Katherine. I'm not sure why you would, unless you have a death wish that you can't wait to come true."

She watched him chew diligently, so content, so still, after ripping away the only person that began to matter more to her than all the rest. "I came back here, because I thought Jack needed my help. I thought he was in danger." She hung her head on that last part, because she had been wrong. Jack had a plan in motion, a surefire plan that he must have thought about in grave detail, and she almost ruined it. One mission crashed smack-dab into another.

Ben shook his head, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed his masticated bite. "It's very unnerving what you two are willing to do for one another." He wiped the sticky syrup from his lips. "Jack was willing to let me die to keep you safe and you were willing to die yourself, risk being thrown back into that cage, just to save him." It was his biggest annoyance, he thought, watching these two get sucked into a vortex of attraction and admiration that they would deny themselves if asked outright by anyone who noticed the fierce draw they had to each other.

Ben leaned into the table, his beady eyes penetrating, piercing. "How exactly were you planning to save him, Kate? Did you not expect that I would catch you? Did you expect to just grab him and run, as if I never had the proper precautionary measures in place, like cameras in every room of his quarters? It seems that you've forgotten that I'm full of surprises."

Kate cleared her throat, never wavering as Ben's eyes cut straight through her. "You never counted on the fact that I knew anything about this place, where to find it and how to get to it. It seems that you've forgotten that I'm full of surprises myself." Ben nodded shortly. She had him there. He believed that the compound would always be safe from intruders, because he never left a trail between the many points on the Island that he traveled that would lead anyone back here. She was full of surprises, that was true, but he was still determined to believe he had her completely beat.

"Did you really let Jack go home?" The question came tumbling out of her mouth before she could think it through. It was the first time since sitting down with Ben did she show any sense of brokenness, true, bold despair. Ben could almost feel sorry for her…almost.

"Yes, Katherine. He's still on the sub as we speak, safely on his way back to the States. Why would you ask me that?"

Kate's lips pursed into a thin line, her temper ready to flair at that ridiculous question, but she decided to play it cool. "Because you're a liar. You're a murderer and you manipulate people, and I don't want Jack to get caught up in your games."

Ben chuckled, a child-like giggle that left Kate fetching for its meaning. "If that's the case Katherine, then why did you come back for him? To get him back to the beach, so that you can toy a little more with his heart? Flock to Sawyer when Jack doesn't show you the affection you felt he never reciprocated." He leaned into the table again, using his forearms for support. He wanted her to hear this last bit loud and clear. "You see, the difference between you and me, is that I gave Jack what he desperately wanted, a way off this Island. What have you given Jack that he ever truly wanted or needed, Katherine?"

A full scowl marked Kate's features. "You know nothing about my relationship with Jack."

"I know enough. I know that there's this extraordinarily powerful connection there, which you consistently fumbled with, because you weren't at all prepared for what Jack was asking of you, you never knew how to handle what you felt for him. Those damn issues with being good enough didn't help matters either. Your mother choosing to stay with your biological father, a man who beat her, turned her face black and blue for sport never left you, poisoned you against feeling deserving of anything that was any good. So one night, you put your drunken old man in his bed, rigged the house to blow once he woke up to light a cigarette. You have quite a rap sheet that stems from that heinous crime, but pre-meditated murder usually stands out." Ben finished on a breath, because during his diatribe, he hadn't taken one. The dazed look of astonishment on her face almost made him lose the battle with maintaining his poker face.

"Jack was simply too much of what you never felt deserving of, because well, the good guys never get away with their lives intact when they get romantically involved with you, do they Katherine? Tom, your childhood best friend, killed right in front of you, because he refused to leave your side, even though you left him long before. Kevin, the man you lied to, married and left behind, because your past was catching up with you. I guess Jack just got off easier than the ones who came before him."

She swallowed hard. "How do you—"

"Know all of this?" Ben interrupted, casually wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin that sat in his lap. "I like to do my homework on the people I decide to drug, kidnap and force into my daughter's clothing." He looked over at her, drab laughter in his eyes. "A word of advice, the next time you decide to fall in love while on the run, don't fall for a cop. That's a disaster too big for my feeble brain to comprehend."

He continued with his assessment, lathering grape jelly onto a piece of toast. "I guess Sawyer suited you more at the time. He never asked for anything that you didn't feel emotionally equipped to give, he never pushed you to change, to rise above, he didn't even care when you lied to his face, because from what I gathered, you did that, often." He dropped the piece of toast onto his plate, his face scrunched in curiosity. "By the way, I never found out what you and Sawyer did to pass the time in those cages." He cut a small piece from his sausage patty, and brought it up to his mouth, a snarly smirk on his lips. He shrugged. "I take it you figured something out."

Kate was silent now; her eyes fell to the ground, guilty, ashamed. Did he know about what happened in the cages? She thought, panicked that anyone knew what she and Sawyer had done. Ben had her right where he wanted her now, harboring the guilt of what she did, what he created the circumstances for her to do, what he orchestrated to break Jack down into his most fundamental foe. He knew exactly what happened in the cages, it was so glorious to watch her scramble with remorse. He decided that he'd make it last.

"Then there's John Locke, who came here with you, someone you neglected to tell my guards about. He was trying to blow up the submarine, Katherine. How am I to know that you weren't a part of his plan?"

Kate's brow crinkled in confusion, her eyes stuck on a crack in the floor. "I wasn't…I didn't…" She couldn't form the words. She was here to save Jack, she had no idea that he planned to leave, and it still boggled her mind that Locke knew anything about Jack's plans and that his first order of business was to blow up the submarine.

"If you're worried about Jack being lonely off the Island, don't bother. Juliet went with him." Kate looked up at him then, her eyes bugged and shocked, jealousy bleeding through them like a war wound. "They got to know each other pretty well while he was staying here, a lot of things in common, not to mention their intellect. They could talk for hours about topics you've never even heard of. Both doctors, both spectacular in their respective fields, the absolute best actually. It seems like something was beginning there, something very special, maybe that can get somewhere once they're home. They make a very striking couple, yes?"

Kate didn't react, she just stared at him, unaffected, but brewing on the inside. She knew what he was doing, trying to unravel the unmitigated trust she had in Jack, but upon hearing about Juliet, she was suddenly scared that she may have lost her romantic chance with him, which was terrifying for her. She remembered the moments he shared with Ana Lucia and the train of jealousy and territorial protectiveness that tore through her, and Juliet had the same effect on her, and now Jack was be gone, with her, for who knows how long. Her eyes swam with tears.

"You don't understand what you did, do you? By telling him that you had to believe us, that you had to trust that we were gonna kill Sawyer, Jack had to believe that we could get him off of this Island. All that Jack did was listen to you, Katherine. That's all he did. You wanted him to do the surgery, and he did it. You were scared for Sawyer's life, so he saved him." He had her, completely, her proverbial battleship was sunk and he crowned himself the victor.

"I would offer my thanks, because if it weren't for you, Jack would never have—"

"You bastard. You evil, little, crippled bastard." She spit the words like a fire-breathing dragon, a tear escaping down her cheek, then another and another. "You want to thank me? Your goons were threatening to kill Sawyer right in front of me and Juliet told me that he would die if I couldn't convince Jack to do it. What did you expect me to do?" Her breathing went from still to raged. Her eyes cornered his face, making it obvious that she was vengeful, on the war path. "I needed to get to Jack, I needed that more than anything, but you made it impossible for me to even see him, and when I did, I couldn't even touch…" She broke off, clearing her throat, wiping at her tears.

Her voice dropped a full octave, dark, damp with her despair. "He wouldn't tell me where he was, what he was doing. I couldn't leave without him, but he wouldn't tell me anything. I didn't have a choice. So before you offer me your pretentious gratitude, know that if I had known that begging Jack to do the surgery meant that I would lose him, I wouldn't have told him to help you at all. I would have found another way, and I would have made sure that you never lived to see another day, you son of a bitch!"

Ben wasn't in the least bit shaken by Kate's contempt. "It's too bad that things didn't work out that way, I love my life too much to lose it, because you suddenly want to choose between the two men at your feet," His round eyes squinted deviously, "but Jack was never really at your feet was he?" He looked pretty proud of that one, which made Kate's eyes squint with steamy abhorrence, hot tears still falling from them. He was determined to destroy her, to drive the knife deeper, until it slit straight through her. He was succeeding.

"I'm happy for Jack. He's on his way to the comfort of his life before he ever got bogged down by the likes of you. It's only fitting that he's not alone. I'm sure Juliet will be great, sexy, intelligent, beautiful company."

Her temper had reached its boiling point, all of her resolve was gone. "Fuck you."

Ben's face faltered with surprise, his eyelids moved to half-staff, then his features whisked into pure annoyance and anger. "Number one, you might want to watch your language, because I don't condone a foul mouth at my dinner table and number two, I don't think I can fathom any more of my generous pleasantries being thrown back in my face." He wheeled himself from the table, maneuvered the chair inches from Kate, the wheels brushing against the chair she sat in. "You need to forget about Jack, Kate. You need to forget that he was ever here, that he ever meant anything to you, because it will be pretty pathetic if you don't. He's not coming back. He's never coming back to you." She could see in his eyes just how much that alleged fact delighted him, and only she knew differently.

"A guard will come in here and he'll take you outside, and he'll let you and Sayid go, because Jack wanted that to happen, and I shook his hand and told him that it shall be done, because contrary to the what you think of me, I am a man of my word, that's the only reason I haven't gotten rid of you for good. But know this, if I hear one peep out of you, even one, if I see one toe of yours over the line, meddling where you obviously don't belong, I will kill you, Kate." His voice was deeper, darker, heavier, far away from his normal mousey tone. He meant what he was telling her. Kate actually felt herself flinch at the acerbic verve of his voice just then.

"If you ever, and I mean, ever decide to cross me again, I will shoot you dead where you stand. Is that understood?"

Ben didn't give Kate time to answer or to even react to the obvious, bloodthirsty threat on her life, before he raised his voice. "Pryce!" A guard came into the room, one that Kate recognized from Jack's barracks. He was the one that asked her if anyone else was there besides her and Sayid. "Get her out of my sight. I'm done with her."

Pryce yanked at Kate's upper arm and ushered her towards the front door, pulling her down the stairs and onto the open courtyard. Sayid stood in the distance, the jungle at his back. He was silent as Kate approached him, his expression emotionless, trying not to show any outward emotions.

"Are you okay?" Kate asked once they were within earshot. Judging from the bruises peppered over his face and the dry blood that seeped from swollen wounds, he wasn't, not in the least bit, but he didn't break from character.

"I'm fine." Sayid said, his tone of voice and facial expression lifeless.

He was a torturer once, she remembered him telling her that, confiding that in her in a moment of trust and friendship. He'd spent years of his life intimidating his country's enemies with pain and even death, and he sat on the other side of that just now, but he was lucky to be able to walk away with his life. Kate could see the disappointment and anger in his eyes, and she would have to apologize to him for what he just went through. A guard unlocked his cuffs and took them from around Sayid's wrists. Tom stepped in front of them.

"You both should count your lucky stars." He said with authoritative awareness. "We're cuttin' ya loose. There's nothing we could possibly gain from keeping you here or from killing you. You are never to return here, because the next time you do, I have a feeling that Ben won't be so forgiving."

Jack's eyes popped open, taking in the silent darkness that greeted him. He rose from his lounged position, gripping his lower torso and almost forgot that he was tucked into a bottom bunk, in one of the small dormitories on the submarine. He swerved, pulling his legs to the side of the bed until the soles of his shoes rested against the floor and the back of his head rested lightly on the brass fitting of the upper bunk's frame. He felt sick to his stomach, and completely wiped out, even though he had eight full hours of sleep the night before.

Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through his veins, or the thought of being home again after almost three months, after being presumed dead to the known universe, to his mother, the only family he had left. Maybe it was the dreadful fact that he wasn't bringing his father's body back with him. It could have been the ever present nauseating thud that always filled him at the disapproval of another one of John Locke's zany attempts to prove his zanier theories about the Island. Or maybe it was the fact that he would miss the people he was leaving behind, most of all Kate, whose scent still lingered on his skin, the vision of her tear-stained cheeks still greeted him when he closed his eyes.

He brought the back of his hand where she'd touched him to his nostrils, her signature, natural aroma was intoxicating, and the longer he sniffed, the sooner her scent was gone, like a trace that had been erased from his consciousness. He felt heartbroken by the dissipation of her fragrance, but just as he had decided the second he walked out of that game room, nothing lasted forever. He sat up further, his back hunched over, his fingertips rubbed at his closed eyelids as he tried to concentrate on his breathing.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Jack?" He whispered to himself. He could literally feel himself breaking into a cold sweat. Was he nervous about going home? Was he suddenly unsure of his own plan to bring back rescue? No, everything would be okay, as soon as he could get back to sleep, which wasn't going to happen as thoughts crashed together in his mind at warp speed. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"You okay?" He heard Juliet ask from across the small that separated his bunk from hers. She was staring at him, lying on her back in the opposite bunk, her long, blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder. She was such a beautiful woman, and had been such a good friend to him in a time when he'd never felt more alone.

"Yeah, I just…" He couldn't find an adequate excuse to give, so he opted for honestly. "Actually, I don't know what's going on. I'm not exactly someone who gets squeamish, and I'm feeling pretty out of sorts right now."

She rose from her reclined position, sitting directly in front of him, their knees met, brushed. "It's probably the pressure. The first time I was in this thing, I wasn't even awake for it." She laughed, smiling. "I drank the tranquilizer so fast, I basically passed out and had to be carried onboard, and once I woke up, we were on the Island."

Jack massaged his forehead, a light chuckle followed. "Must have been pretty embarrassing."

Juliet shrugged. "Yeah, it was at first, but then I thought about what was driving me to get to the Island. I wanted to make a difference, and I thought that the Island would give me that opportunity," she stared blankly, as if she were thrust back into bad memories long forgotten, "but it was all a lie."

"How so?" They had many conversations while Jack stayed in the barracks, many dinners shared and moments to get to know each other better, but they never talked about just why Juliet wanted so badly to kill Ben. It was a subject that they never explored. He presumed it was because they both had to play nice with Ben and the people that still knew nothing of what he was truly capable of. Now that they no longer had to hold up that pretense, she could tell him.

"Ben told me that he cured my sister's cancer, but then I found out that he himself had cancer, the tumor that he needed you to remove." She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers combing through the long tresses. "One day, I called him on it, told him he had cancer, called him a liar, because there was no way he could have cured Rachel's cancer and have it himself. It was impossible. So, the next day, he took me to one of the communication stations, and…," she swiped at a tear that seeped from her eye, "I saw her on the monitor, Rachel and Julian." She said his name with such care and love, the nephew she never got to meet, because Ben found it pertinent for her to continue her work on the Island. He did to her what he did best, dangled what she wanted more than anything right in her face, and snatched it away, promising to return it to her when he felt like it. Jack took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

Juliet met his eyes; the cerulean of hers matched her now solemn mood. "She was fine, her cancer was gone. She looked so happy." She laughed again, the edge of her giggles came out on the depth of an agonizing sob of joy. "In order for me to see them again, I had to get you to do it. I had to get you to remove the tumor. I had to play Ben's game. I'm so sorry I had to put you though all of that."

Jack brought his other hand over hers, enclosing it between the warmth of his palms. "It's okay. We all do crazy things to get to where we want to be."

Juliet's brow lifted. "So, does Kate coming back for you qualify as one of those crazy things? Even when you told her to never return?"

Jack laughed, a smile ghosted across his face, in spite of the fact that he should still be so angry with Kate, she could still make him feel things that he didn't want to feel. "I knew that she wouldn't leave well enough alone. She was just trying to protect me."

In true Kate Austen fashion, Jack knew that this was all she was trying to do, protect him from a situation she thought was harmful, even deadly, because she was subjected to a violent atmosphere from the moment she woke up from the drugs they'd given them. She had no idea what he'd done; he hadn't told her a thing. Would that have made it clearer for her? He thought. Did his choice to keep everything a secret from her force her into harm's way? Did he make matters worse for her and himself? No, he couldn't blame himself for this, Kate came back after he told her not to, no matter what he decided to keep to himself. There wasn't time to tell her, there wasn't a shred of desire inside of him to tell her, even when her blaring pleas deafened him.

His eyes were glued on a random spot in the distance. "She didn't think I meant it." He brought a trembling hand through his hair, obviously shaken. How could he not have meant it? He was boggled by the fact that she thought his command that she run until her feet bled was said just for the heck of it. He almost laughed at the absurdity.

Juliet bit the inside of her lip, trying to prevent herself from asking this, but she had to. "What did you two talk about…in the game room?"

Jack lifted his broad shoulders, and then let them drop. "Nothing much," he lied, looking her straight in the face, "I just said goodbye and wished her well. They were listening in anyways, so I kept it short, brief."

"Must have been hard, walking away from her." Juliet kept her eyes on his face, watching for any change in his expression. There was none, and the hope inside of her, the desire for Jack to be open to other romantic options, bubbled over the surface that contained it. "It's always been obvious that you care a lot about her."

He thought about how vague she'd just described his emotions when it came to Kate. He loved her, more specifically and frighteningly, he was in love with her, always was and always would be, which made leaving her behind feel like a limb was being treacherously ripped from his body. "Caring means you have something to lose." He couldn't lose again, so he wasn't even in the race to win and yet, he was going back for someone he was sure he could never have. It was official, he was a masochist, addicted to the pain that loving Kate so much it hurt would always cause.

Juliet didn't believe in the callous and cold façade that he was portraying, even in Locke's case. She didn't believe Jack capable of that kind of selfishness. She felt that she knew him better than that. "What about John? I don't believe that you don't care about what happens to him."

"John is...troubled." Jack shook his head, thoughts of Locke gave him a severe headache, and he was fighting off the needles of anger that spiked his temper whenever he thought of him. "I can't be involved in whatever he thinks he has to prove about the Island."

"What if you are?" She asked, playing the devil's advocate in order to help Jack sort through his jumbled thoughts. She watched his expression turn from pensive to dismissive.

He shook his head again. "I'm not. I can't be." He couldn't be, and better yet, he wouldn't be. Not now, not ever.

Juliet saw the resoluteness in his eyes, but there was still the strong torrent of trepidation, anxiousness underneath. She needed to fix that for him, so she reached for him and wrapped her arms around him, her chin resting against his shoulder. She sensed that he needed a hug, and he returned it immediately, the tension draining from the coiled muscles of his back and arms. They held each other for what felt like hours. Juliet rubbed her hands over the expanse of his back, enjoying the closeness more than she should have.

"It's all gonna be okay. Sooner or later, the Island will be as far from your mind as possible. It'll be like it never even happened."

"Yeah. I hope so." Jack knew that wasn't the truth, and he felt a bit guilty for not telling Juliet about his plan to come back to the Island to save his friends, but he had to keep that promise to Kate, even if it meant keeping it a well-kept secret.

He put it all out of his mind for the moment, as Juliet tightened her grip on him. Kate. The plan. Locke. The Island. He blocked it all from his conscience, if only for a second. He allowed himself this moment of vindication. He was going home, he finally made a way, and he smiled. It was a dream that was finally coming true, and, for the time being, that was enough.