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Hurley watched, listened, there but not there. Aaron was crying again, and Claire was doing everything she could to get him to calm down, even though his unease was fueling her own. Charlie held them both close, still reeling from the adrenaline that it took to get his family out of there. Rose and Bernard, Jin and Sun, they held close too, tired, hungry, but lucky to be alive, blessed to not have lost their other, better halves. They were all so lucky to be alive.

The group, what was left of the group, felt miles away. Tears welled Hurley's eyes. He wanted to block it all out, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. There was sunlight peeking through the clouds, the leaves overhead. He was in shock. Hadn't said a word for a while. He felt a hand at his shoulder and looked up.

"Are you okay?" Sayid asked.

"No." Hurley said honestly. They were attacked by that thing. People were killed. People he came to know, and care about.

"What do you need?" Sayid asked, trying his best to make everyone as comfortable as possible.

Hurley was still somewhere else, but reacted. "I need to understand what just happened."

Sayid sat down next to him. "I'm not exactly sure myself."

"That thing was gonna kill us all." Hurley said. "I mean, being out in the jungle and coming across it is one thing, but…not on the beach. Our home….it's gone."

Sayid took a moment before he said anything. "Our home is not this Island, Hurley. It's each other."

Hurley's eyes wandered, and he admonished himself for not noticing sooner. "Locke. Where's Locke?"

"I don't know." Sayid answered, honestly. He had no idea what the Monster had done to him, with him.

"What do you mean 'I don't know'?" Hurley asked. "He didn't get out?"

"After how he treated you, Hurley, I'm surprised you care what happens to him." Sayid retorted

"Of course I care, dude." Hurley said, offended and showing it. "Where is he?"

"He stayed behind, with it." Sayid said as he rose to his feet, his spine stiff with disbelief and a bit of denial about what he saw.

"What does that even mean, mate?" Charlie asked, moving from his place next to Claire and Aaron, facing Sayid. Everyone turned their ears to the conversation.

"I saw him. He was walking towards it, and it…it didn't kill him." Sayid confessed.

"It didn't kill him? That's what it does and you just left him there?!" Hurley asked, rising to his feet, angry and devastated.

"Yes, Hurley, I left him there, seeing as he was standing right in the middle of it! What would you have me do? Draw its attention? Save a man who clearly does not wish to be saved while endangering the lives of those who do?" Sayid defended himself, his voice booming with frustration. In response, Aaron's cries grew louder. Claire did her best to comfort him.

He now saw what Jack endured, all the time, as the leader. Every decision scrutinized, every call criticized in some way. Sayid knew that he did what he had to do. He didn't want this responsibility any more than Jack did, but it naturally fell into his hands in his absence. A new appreciation for what his friend went through sprung to life. He let out an agonized breath, and caught hold to his temper.

"We don't know what Locke was mixed up in when he was away." Sayid continued, his voice softer, but still firm and convicted. "He chose his fate. He always did. Whether or not he's dead, it was his choice."

"Hey, guys, come on." Rose stood up from where she was huddled in her husband's arms, speaking directly to Hurley and Charlie, softly urging them to back off.

"Sayid got all of us out of there, and he's right about John. He was gone for a long time, and whatever came of him last night, it was his choice. I can only hope that he made it out, but that's all I or any of us can do now."

Hurley and Charlie folded under Rose's intervention. What she said was true. They had no idea what Locke was up to when he was away. They were the ones who watched him saunter back onto the beach as if time had stood still. Hurley had actually questioned him, had he not? They didn't trust him, but that didn't mean they wanted him dead, but it was a moot point.

He might very well be dead, but for all his faults, they knew John Locke. He wouldn't die without it being a choice. He was too stubborn for anything else.

Charlie assessed the group, his brow creased in confusion. "Speaking of all of us, where's Sawyer and Juliet?"

The sound of the stream's undertow was calming, serene even. Juliet pulled her ponytail loose as she bent down to take a look at herself in the reflection of the water. She could see the years gained to her features, the lack of sleep was catching up with her. Her hands were caked with dry blood. Sharon's blood. She looked down at her jeans and plaid button-up, blotches of blood stained them. She peeled the shirt from her shoulders and arms, revealing the off-white tank top underneath.

Frustrated, she angrily twisted the fabric in her hands and threw it down nearby with a choked gasp. She was cracking. She was shaking. She sucked a breath in, held it, and then let it go. That usually helped unravel her nerves, a tactic she found useful during her residency and fellowship years, but she was still shaking. Impatient with herself, she plunged her hands into the clear water, watching as it tinged a muddy brown hue as the dry blood leaked from her skin.

"Are you okay?" She heard him ask from behind her.

Not many people could sneak up on her. Had he followed her out here? Any other time, she'd welcome his company, seek it even, but right now wasn't one of them. She didn't answer, going back to cleaning herself up. He sighed, moving over to her, careful to give her the space she needed, but staying close and moving closer, to show her that he was there, to talk to. He couldn't get her to shut up before, but she picked now to get quiet and reserved on him? He didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Juliet." She knew he wasn't going to leave her alone. She could hear the stubbornness in his voice, so she rose, wiping her wet hands off on the jean fabric covering her thighs. When she turned, he was closer, the worry evident in his eyes.

He ached to touch her, but refrained, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Are you okay?"

He saw the tears shimmering in her eyes, and how hard she was trying to stop herself from crying, but he knew she wasn't going to last for long. She bit down on her lower lip and then let go of a long breath, avoiding his eyes, avoiding contact and connection. She didn't want to cry in front of him, but she couldn't help it.

"No." She cried, as a single tear escaped the locked door she tried to hide them behind. He quickly pulled her into a hug. At the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, she broke down. He didn't poke, or prod, just held her still, catching her as she allowed herself to break and be broken.

"I meant what I said, Blondie." He said into her hair, smoothing his palm across her back. "There was nothing you coulda done."

"She was just looking for her husband." She said, sadly, her cheek pressed into his shoulder, her hands low on his back. "Thank God he wasn't killed right in front of her, but I don't think that's much of a comfort, is it?"

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience." He added.

"Maybe I am." At that, his hands stilled over her back. He finally understood just why she was so upset, why she felt she had to save Sharon. She'd lost her husband too, he realized. Viciously and unjustly, and was there when it happened. He closed his eyes.

Damnit, she heard him mutter. "I'm so sorry, Blondie."

Her fists clung to his shirt, but eventually, she let him go, and pulled away, wiping at her face. She didn't even recognize herself in that moment. She dealt with this pain a long time ago. She and Edmund weren't in the best place when he was killed, but there was love there, still. They had a chance to fix things, but it was too late. They were too late.

"This isn't about me." Juliet sniffled, continuing to wipe her tears away as Sawyer watched her with sorrowed affection. "This is about Sharon and Rob, everyone that died last night. It just…happened so fast."

"Yeah." Was all Sawyer offered, his sorted emotions written all over his face. Sadness for her, for them, and himself.

He'd lost a lot in his life, and survived by letting anger consume him. He realized he didn't even have that anymore. He had this need to protect what he had left, what he hadn't lost, and she stood right at the center of that for him. When did she start to matter to him? He wondered. When she wouldn't leave him alone? When she frustrated him? When he wouldn't spit on her if she'd been on fire? Where were these feelings coming from? Or, he thought, were they always there?

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm…." He started, but found that it was time to tell the truth, to be as brave as he always believed himself to be. The attack on the beach shed light all over it, and now it was just time for him to say it. To let it breathe and live with him. He looked her in the eyes, and she could feel that something real was coming by the softer shape of his lips and the way he swallowed hard, so hard she could hear it.

"I always counted myself a survivor, as someone who could just think about himself and keep goin' with nothin' to lose, nothin' to be afraid of losin'." He confessed. She stood there, quiet, waiting for more. He was finally opening up to her, she dared not get in the way.

"I have somethin', someone, I'm afraid to lose, Juliet."

If she'd been hit over the head from behind, it still wouldn't have been as shocking as this. The way he said her name made her pulse quicken. The affectionate intonation, the emotion, it was all there. A sea of trepidation mounted between them, and he waited. For it to pass, for her to swim through it to reciprocate. His eyes begged for even the tiniest indication that she returned his feelings.

Her lips lifted into a grin, her eyes sparking with an almost foreign emotion. Happiness.

"James…"

She was about to repeat his sentiment, when, in a flash, he pulled his gun out and pointed it in the direction of the sudden rustling of leaves, bending of branches and undergrowth stomped under hurried feet.

"Whoa!" Kate shouted as she came to a stop, almost tripping over her hurried feet as she put her hands up, registering Sawyer with his gun pointed at her chest. "It's just me!"

He sighed, letting his gun drop to his side. "Damnit Freckles. What are you doin' here?"

Kate walked over, completely oblivious to the moment she just interrupted between them. "It attacked the beach, didn't it?"

She looked them over. There was blood on Juliet's jeans, caked under her fingernails, her eyes red from crying. Sawyer looked okay, but in his eyes there was sadness, with an edge of shock. Not to mention, they wouldn't be displaced in the jungle if the beach were safe, unless it was just the two of them.

"How do you know about that?" Juliet asked.

"I saw it on its way there. It was…" Words failed to describe it, Kate found. "Determined."

"A lot of people didn't make it." Sawyer admitted, sadly. "More than half the group is…gone"

"Oh God. Claire, Aaron, Sun, are they okay?" Kate asked quickly, fear of bad news choking her up.

"They're fine." Sawyer shared, watching her close her eyes and release a breath of relief. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doin' here?"

Kate smiled, happy to have good news to share. "I saw Jack. In the cabin."

"What?" Sawyer asked, at the same time Juliet rushed to reply with, "Is he okay?"

"He's fine, from what I could tell." He was so tired, she remembered. So, so tired.

"Where the hell has he been all this time?" Sawyer asked.

"I really don't have much time to explain everything. I just came back for directions to the plane." Kate turned to Juliet.

"Jack left something on it. Some kind of device. He was trying to get to it when he…disappeared." A frown marked her face then. Her throat was still sore from screaming his name. "I need to get to the plane, find it and take it back to the cabin with me."

Sawyer and Juliet shared a look, one of hope, curiosity and concern. Kate actually saw Jack, spoke to him. She couldn't possibly know about the device if she hadn't. This was real. What she was experiencing, with him, what they were experiencing with each other, it was real. Powerful enough to save them all.

"What? What is it?" Kate asked, studying their expressions.

Sawyer tore his eyes away from Juliet to announce what they silently agreed upon. We should to tell her.

"You don't need to go to the plane, Freckles." He tilted his head to a path at their backs, angling his body towards it.

"Follow me."

Richard sat in his lonesome on the grassy hill that overlooked his camp, the activity blurred by how high up he was. He went up there often, but not as often as he had in the past few days. He needed to think, about everything he'd been told, thought he believed, and struggled to believe. That last one was new for him, rocky territory. He'd never had more problems finding his way than he did these past few weeks.

He told Ben to commit murder, to strike a man down, take his life from him and it was all because he was afraid.

Fear. It made him do things, think things he never thought himself capable.

He looked down at the compass cradled between his palm and fingertips, the scratched plating gave him comfort. It was as old as he was. Jacob had given it to him. It would always point to where he could find him, but not anymore. When he travelled in the direction it pointed the last time, Jacob's quarters, he wasn't there. He had no idea where he had gone, or if he was still around and just didn't want to be found. He picked the worst time to disappear.

"Mr. Alpert."

He turned to find one of his group members, his loyal, intelligent apprentice, Sam, standing nearby. He wouldn't have bothered him if it wasn't important.

"Mr. Linus is here. He wishes to see you." Sam announced.

Richard led the way back into the hub of the camp, where he saw him, flanked by Mikhail and Tom, as usual. He looked better, healthier and was no longer using the cane. He stood on his own two feet, and there was a new air swirling around him. Something changed. Richard could feel it.

"Hello, Richard." Ben greeted him.

Richard approached him further, opting to make their conversation private, or as private as he could make it with Tom and Mikhail within earshot. "Ben. What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk." Without another word, Ben turned and began to walk to Richard's tent.

Confused, Richard turned to Tom, who shrugged his shoulders in confusion. Certain he would get no indication from Ben's fiercest loyalist, he walked over to his tent and entered. Once he had, Ben said the three words that brought him more joy than any others.

"Locke is dead."

Richard kept his reaction tight and sealed, even though he was still so confused and constantly wished back the words he said, but it was too late. He was dead. It was settled. "How did it happen?"

"Do you really want to know?" Ben asked.

"No. No, I don't," Richard countered, shaking his head, but something inside of him needed to know, but he wiped it clean. The only thing that mattered was that it'd been done, right? But Ben didn't travel all this way to tell him, right? Or maybe he did.

"I take it informing me of Locke's demise isn't the reason you're here." Richard continued.

"No, it isn't." Ben got to the point. "I need you to take me to the cabin."

Richard wasn't sure he understood, let along heard correctly. "What?"

"The cabin, the one Jacob built, with his bare hands, as you so eloquently put it. Surely you haven't forgotten it." Ben said, a laugh edging out the sarcasm in his tone.

"I remember, I just don't understand why you're asking me to take you there. It's been abandoned for years, Ben. What exactly are you expecting to find?" Richard asked.

"Not what, who." Ben revealed.

"You're expecting to find Jacob?" Richard asked, the impact of the seriousness in Ben's eyes throwing him for a loop. He knew how this worked, and how it didn't work. How it would never work. "What makes you think that he'd be there?"

"What makes you think he wouldn't be?" Ben countered.

"Experience." Richard responded quickly, shocked that Ben hadn't come to that conclusion himself. "Every time I've met with Jacob, it's always been the same place, the place I went to days ago to find him for you."

"Only he wasn't there that time, was he? So, your experience has failed you."

"Well, my experience has never been to find him when he didn't want me to." Richard struck back. Burning suspicion rose in his throat, cutting his tongue to the chase. "What is this really about, Ben?"

"This is about what it's always been about, Richard. Protecting the Island."

"That's what you said the last time. Protect the Island against Locke, right? He was the target." Richard pointed out. And now he's dead, he wanted to say. Even thinking it made him feel sick to his stomach.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Richard, I don't kno—"

"Stop lying to me!" Richard shouted, startled by the outburst, but in no way backing down.

He brought his hands up to cover his face, and took deep, long breaths, before he let his hands fall to his side. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. He had to play this right. He'd seen Ben twist and turn people's passions to his advantage. He was so masterful at it. If he was ever going to get the truth, he needed to keep calm.

He spoke more evenly, his volume steady, at base. "I can't do this anymore."

Richard stepped up to Ben with enough tension wrapping through every muscle in his body to snap steel. Ben flinched slightly, finally showing some vulnerability. "You're lying. You have been for months, and I want to know. I want to hear you say it."

"Say what, Richard?"

"That you plan to kill Jacob." Richard accused. His anger at himself, for having let it get this far, for being just another poor soul conned by Benjamin Linus, blistered.

Jacob was Ben's true target, his endgame. He always had been. John Locke was a distraction, no less a threat, but a way to mask his true intent. He was never the threat to the Island that Ben wanted everyone to believe he was. Ben himself was the danger, slithering low in the grass, camouflaged when brought to the light. He had manipulated everything, everyone so perfectly.

Ben hung his head, low, his eyes closed. He stood as if he'd been slapped without having been touched, wounded without having been grabbed and scathed without ever being burned. Richard watched him, and for a split second, felt pity for him, felt sorry. He struggled with the impulse to wish the accusation away.

Only then did Ben slowly lift his head, his eyes appearing, bulging out of their sockets with rapid-fire precision, his stormy grey irises bled with who he hid behind them. Who he really was. His brows were troughed, casting a shadowy varnish over the evil spirit that was set free. His thin lips were pursed into a debauched grin that brought wrinkles to his eyes, and the disturbing picture into focus.

The Devil had arrived.

No. He was here the whole time.

"Well….you caught me." Ben said, his grin tightened, his demeanor no longer confined behind false intents. "I'm disappointed that it took you this long to figure it out, but I knew you would. I just knew it."

Richard shook his head. He was almost conned out of believing it. Again. He was brilliant. Cunningly brilliant. He clinched his jaw. Locke was dead, but he could make it right. He had to make it right. For the Island. For Jacob.

"I won't let you do this."

Ben voice turned to raucous laughter. "Is that the best you can do, Richard? You? Won't let me do this? You already have!"

Ben walked over to the stunning miniature Black Rock, still sitting within the body of the thick-paned, long-necked wine bottle. "What are you talking about?"

"You went to Jacob when I begged you to. You didn't even see me coming. I had Mikhail follow you." Ben, with a finger, wiped at the tiny specks of dust that collected over the bottle. "I finally know where Jacob has been all this time, and he wasn't there, just like you said."

Richard suddenly couldn't breathe. His chest felt like it had been caving, his lungs confined to an ever-smaller space. He remembered that day, very well. The trek, the disappointment when he discovered that Jacob wasn't where he'd always been. He remembered something not being right about it, about Ben asking him to do it. He never thought to not do it. He had always done it. Always.

He remembered running into John Locke, at the Black Rock of all places. He was annoyed by it then, but looking back on it, he was supposed to run into him. He was supposed to listen to him. It was Jacob's way of telling him what he always knew, but didn't want to believe. Locke's word choice was coming back to haunt him, like an unsettled dream.

"One day Richard, one day very soon, you're gonna wish you'd paid more attention, but by then, it'll be too late."

"He knew." Richard said lowly, swallowing hard.

"What?" Ben asked.

"Locke. He knew, but he couldn't prove it. Hell, he couldn't even say it, because he wasn't even sure Jacob existed and it would just feed into your play to make him look crazy, but he knew you were lying and he tried to warn me. Did Mikhail tell you that when he reported back to you? I bet he did."

"I knew, and every time I gave you a chance to admit it, you deflected the conversation, made it about Locke, and then you killed him."

"We killed him, Richard." Ben reminded him. "Never lose sight of that. His blood is just as much on your hands as they are on mine."

Richard kept going, ignoring him. "Jacob chose him, didn't he? He chose him for something and you couldn't take it, so you plotted against him."

"You want to know the really interesting part, Ben?" Richard stepped up to him. "Jacob knows too. He hasn't been talking to you, Ben, not a whisper, because he doesn't trust you anymore. He doesn't need you anymore. He knows you're not worthy, that you were never worthy, so, no. I won't do it. Jacob could be anywhere, but I'm not gonna help you find and murder him, you sick bastard."

Ben sighed. "You never make it easy on yourself, do you Richard?" He pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket, turning it on and up and speaking into it, capturing all of Richard's attention.

"Pryce?" Dressed in camouflage, Pryce was hidden away behind a curtain of leaves deep and high in the jungle. He was positioned behind a high-power, semi-automatic rifle, his sights set right over Richard's camp. He looked through the scope, finding Mikhail and Tom within the belly of the group, woven between tents.

"Yeah, Boss?"

Richard, panicked. "What are you doing?"

"Pryce, I want you to take your pick of anyone you want, aim, but don't shoot until I tell you to."

"You got it, Boss." Pryce set his sights on a good-looking kid, Sam, who was standing in wait for Richard's emergence from the tent.

"Don't do this." Richard pleaded.

"I'm not doing this, you are." Ben said. He could see the devastation in his eyes. His loyalty to his people, to their safety.

"Why do you care about them so much, Richard? You're going to outlive all of them anyways. They're going to die and you'll still be here, all alone, delivering lists and following orders like a good boy. Aren't you tired of being good, Richard?"

"This won't get you what you want. Let them all live, please." Richard tried to reason with him, but he saw that Ben was too far down the rabbit hole, too lost in his own plans to fall back now.

"Killing Jacob won't change anything. He's already chosen, Ben. He made his choice, and whoever that person is, he chose long before you ever realized it. It's how it's always worked. You're too late to stop it." Richard bluffed. It was his best chance to talk him down.

"Wait. You don't think I know who he chose?" Ben asked, with a sly chuckle. The boiling anger at just the thought of it made him sick. "I know exactly who he was after, who he was always after, and I got him off of this Island before Jacob could reach him. I brought him into my camp and gave him what he wanted, and he has no idea why."

Richard's eyes grew wild. He wasn't just diabolical, he was crazy. "Ben? What have you done?"

Ben cocked his head, stubborn in his deception as he indignantly shouted, "What I had to! He would never have wanted it! He didn't care about this place, not like I do, like I always have!"

"He who?" Richard asked, but as soon as he did, he understood, dissecting Ben's confession word-for-word.

'I got him off of this Island before Jacob could reach him. I brought him into my camp and gave him what he wanted, and he has no idea why.'

Who had he allowed to leave the Island? When? How? When it dawned on him, he almost gasped. The list, the last list Jacob ever gave him, he handed it to Ben right before the submarine launched, ready to fire towards Los Angeles, California, the intended destination of Oceanic 815, with one passenger from that ill-fated flight in tow.

"Jack Shephard?" Richard asked, watching as Ben's lips tightened. Fear and anxiousness like no other rose high in his chest. Without someone protecting the Island, without the one who was chosen for it, predestined, the Island wouldn't exist. It would literally cease to exist. Ben wasn't just seeking power, he was on a suicide mission. If he couldn't have the Island, no one would and they would all die because of it.

Richard shook his head in denial. "You don't have to do this, Ben. There's still time to fix it."

Ben sniffled his emotions back. "That's where you're wrong, Richard. Time has run out, for you and for them". He pointed towards the tent's tarp. "I will pick them off one by one until you give me what I want."

"Ben, please don't do this." Richard continued to beg.

"Why? Because Jacob gave you everything you ever wanted, because he cares about you enough to see you?! To really see you?!" Ben shouted. "We both know that's not true! How could he, Richard? How could he be so powerful and yet use all of us until we have nothing left to give?!"

"I will no longer be ignored. I will not spend another day without what is rightfully mine. So, you are going to take me to that cabin! Is that understood?!"

"I can't do that, Ben." Richard remained calm and steady. "I'm sorry."

Ben brought the hand that clutched the walkie-talkie up to his mouth, the only word he said was, "Shoot."

"No!" Richard bellowed, but the damage had been done. He could hear it from where he stood, the bullets, the bodies collapsing. Men, women and children screamed, scattered, but were held down by the rest of Ben's army, who had surely arrived to physically put down any plans to escape the scene. More bullets flew, more bodies crashed to the ground, forcing Richard's hand once and for all.

"Okay! Stop! " Richard screamed, shaking. "Okay, Ben. Okay. You got what you want. I'll do it. I'll take you. I will take you anywhere you want, just stop. Please."

Ben's sullen lips curled into a smile. "Good. Very good." He spoke into the walkie-talkie. "Did you hear that?"

Pryce's voice came through the static. "Loud and clear, Boss."

Richard could hear the click of the rifle's barrel as he disabled it, and he collapsed into a chair nearby, bowed over. His head grew fuzzy, the tightness in his chest turning into dullness. He was still shaking, breathing heavily with effort. Everything was falling apart. Ben had every advantage. Locke was dead. Jack didn't know, and would probably never know. The Island was lost.

Ben walked over to him, and patted him on the shoulder. "You have five minutes to collect yourself." Then, he moved to exit.

When he opened the flap, Richard caught a glimpse of one of the dead. Sam. A bullet right between his eyes.

Rustling nearby alerted the group that someone was arriving. Sawyer suddenly appeared, followed by Juliet.

"Did you bring us something back? A sip of water? A bit of a mango, perhaps?" Charlie joked as he paced a straight line into the ground, bouncing Aaron in the circle of his arms.

"Not quite." Sawyer said, just as Kate walked onto the scene, taking in the surprise in everyone's eyes to see her.

"Kate!" Claire rose and ran to her. They collided into a fierce hug, so happy to see that the other was okay.

"Are you okay?" Kate asked, still wrapped up in her tight embrace. She felt Claire's head nod a clear and present 'yes'. She wasn't sure that she would know what to do if something happened to her or Aaron, or both. They were her family. She looked over Claire's shoulder and saw Charlie smiling at the embrace, his arms folded around that chubby little glob of cute that she missed so much. He was more adorable with each passing day.

Sun walked over to the two women, just as they were parting, and pulled Kate into her own emotional hold. They soon pulled away and smiled at each other with tears welling their eyes. Kate brought her hand over Sun's pregnant middle, lingering there as more tears welled.

"I'm so glad you're okay." She said to them both, as one tear escaped down her cheek. She wiped at it as she smiled out to everyone else in the small clearing. It broke her heart how small the group was now, but she would take it. "I'm glad that you're all okay."

Rose approached her, and said, before pulling her into a hug, "My beautiful Katherine."

"Hey Rose." Kate said, on the verge of tears as she wrapped her arms around her. There was something about a hug from Rose that made her feel so welcomed and loved, looked after. She was the one to encourage her to keep going, to keep believing that Jack would come back, and he had. She owed so much of this to Rose, and she would one day tell her that.

"What are you doing here?" Claire asked.

"Jack came to me, in the cabin." Kate shared.

"What? How?" Sun asked.

"I don't really know." Kate said. "As to why I'm here, I need the device that he brought back with him."

"A device?" Sayid asked, drawing Kate's attention. He turned to Sawyer and Juliet, who communicated to him that they made the same connection that he was currently making for himself.

She had to have seen Jack. Kate was a lot of things, but she wasn't clairvoyant. She couldn't know about the device if the encounter never happened. She also couldn't have known that Jack was back when she did if not for whatever hold that cabin has on her. She announced Jack's return before Juliet had even made herself apparent to the group to give them the news. He had no reason not to believe her, not anymore. Kate was right when she said, 'How is anything that's ever happened to us since crashing here, possible?'

"Yeah. He was pretty set on getting to it when he disappeared." Kate explained, approaching him. "On the way here, Sawyer and Juliet told me that you have it and that you're trying to figure out what it does."

Guardedly, Sayid pulled out the device, everyone looked out in awe and confusion.

Bernard moved closer, impressed. "So you did find something on the plane. You were holding out on us."

"For good reason. I wasn't going to inform everyone of its existence without any idea of what its purpose is." Sayid reasoned.

"Well, did you figure somethin' out from Rousseau's notes or not?" Sawyer asked.

"From what I could gather from her ramblings, it most likely has something to do with the Dark Territory."

"Well, that narrows it down." Charlie said, scratching at his chin in confusion.

"That's where Rousseau took us to get the dynamite from the Black Rock. It's also where the Smoke Monster attacked us." Kate remembered.

"It looks like an EMP." Bernard said, still marveling the device. Sayid, Kate and Rose looked at him curiously.

"What? I had a career before dental school." Bernard admitted.

"Well, your wife would love to hear about it someday." Rose teased, suggestively. There was so much to learn about her husband, who never even told her he knew Morse Code. He wasn't Rambo, but he was something other than a dentist alright. Bernard offered a boyish smile.

"An EMP…what's that?" Kate asked.

"It disables electromagnetic energy. This one, is designed to create a pretty significant blackout, for miles, and for hours. Whatever its purpose for the Island, it's big." Sayid explained.

What would Jack be doing with something like this, Kate wondered. "Did you figure out anything else about it?"

"No. I didn't have time to. I was working on it before the Monster attacked. As a start, I carefully unlatched the back panel, and judging from the wiring, this button here," Sayid pointed to a red button at the top, "is the one to push to detonate it."

"Detonate? Great, so now we're all gonna blow up." Hurley said, nervously.

"I take it Jack didn't share any information with you as to why he needs it before he…disappeared?" Sayid asked.

"He didn't." Kate admitted. "All he said was that he had to get to it. I need to take it back to the cabin with me."

Kate reached out for the device, expecting Sayid to hand it to her, but he didn't. He actually held tighter to it, and moved it away from her eager hands.

"Why do you want to take it back to the cabin?" Sayid asked.

"Because Jack could appear there again, and when he does, I'll have what he needs." Kate said, impatiently. She and Sayid had been here before. The suspicion. The mistrust. She thought she had proven herself. What more did he want as evidence that this wasn't all in her head? What more did she have to do?

"Jack has been back for awhile and has only appeared to you once. How long do you suspect it'll take for him to appear to you again?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. All I know is that this is our chance. To help Jack do whatever else he came to do, and get off this Island, once and for all."

"Then I'm going with you." Sayid said.

"Fine." Kate said. She was so anxious to feel Jack's arms around her again that she didn't care who tagged along.

"I guess I'll hop along too. For old times' sake." Sawyer said. Juliet looked over at him, surprised, her eyes pleading with him to stay, but she knew he wouldn't. He wasn't going to let his friends do this alone. It was one of the things she liked most about him.

He looked down at her, a strand of her hair had blown across her face and curled over the bridge of her nose. He gingerly tucked it behind her ear, allowing his hand to linger over and caress her cheek. He no longer felt the need to hide his feelings for her from the group, or Kate for that matter. She was one of them now.

"Watch the herd for me?" Sawyer asked.

Juliet smirked her yes, before saying, affectionately, "Don't get dead."

Sawyer smiled and winked. "I'll try my best."

Kate approached Sayid as he was preparing his pack. "Thank you for finally trusting me again. It means a lot."

Sayid pulled the last strap over his shoulder before saying, "I never stopped trusting you, Kate, but I admit, I did waver, and for that, I apologize. I believe you, about Jack, the cabin. Now, we just need to pray that he comes back sooner rather than later, so we can get out of here, as you said, once and for all."

Jack's throat closed with sadness as he looked away from his father's shattered coffin, not able to stand the sight of it anymore. "I wish you were here." He struggled to say, his emotions deepening his voice. "You would know what to do."

He brought his hands together, as if to plead, to keep his head from dropping. He had given up. The tears fell down his cheeks in droves and he actually found himself praying to a higher power he never thought himself capable of being so modest to trust actually existed.

He was crying now, burying his face in his hands, overwrought with a sickening sense of failure. "I don't know what to do."

"Yes you do, kiddo."

Jack slowly brought his head up when he heard it, the caves allowing the sound of his voice to echo, to linger, just seconds longer. It couldn't be. He died. He was dead. He was staring at his coffin for crying out loud, but when he turned to see him standing there, he now knew he was insane, but he didn't fight it. Sanity meant he wasn't there, so he would give it up. He'd let it go, just to have him back.

He stood up, facing the vision before him. "Dad?"

"Hello, Jack." Christian said.

He grinned widely, the vision of his son before him the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He was wearing a suit and tie, what was picked out for him to be buried in. Everything was in place except for the shoes. White tennis shoes, tied up tightly, fresh as the day he had no choice but to put them on his feet for lack of a better option. He knew what Jack was thinking, that this wasn't real, that it couldn't be. But all of it was real.

Everything that ever happened to him was real.

Christian continued to stare, and smiled big and bright at the tears that foamed in his son's eyes. He was holding back, but he could still see it. The love. It was still there. After everything that went wrong, it was still there.

Jack shook his head, emotions that he'd tucked deep inside swam to the surface, collecting in his throat and threatening to pour from his eyes. He was careful, because he knew that once he spoke the words, there was a chance he'd disappear. He'd wake up somewhere different, some other remote, abandoned place on the Island. Alone. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't be alone with this anymore.

He took a step, just to chance it, picking his words carefully, and honestly. "I don't understand. You died."

Christian nodded, wanting to break down at hearing him say those words. They were no less true than the day he boarded that plane with his body in tow, but he was here now. He was allowed to be here, to see him, if only for a little while.

"Yeah. Yes, I did."

Jack took another step, reeled in, the questions collecting in his mind, all at once, but one in particular managed to win the race. "Then, how are you here right now?"

Christian asked the only question that he knew. "How are you here?"

Was Jack dead this whole time? Hmm. Thanks for reading.