Jack sat back tiredly, wiping at the sweat on his brow with one bloody hand.

He'd been too late. For far too many of the once-survivors, he'd been too late.

There was Steve (or was it Scott?). It didn't matter now, anyway, they were both gone.

There was Sayid, who had done so much to keep everyone alive. Who had held the Island together. What were they going to do on the Island without his technical abilities and his calm competence?

There was Bernard, who had been dragged back by Hurley just a little too late. Who had been spotted by a somber wife. Rose had come, closed his eyes, and then sank down beside him, holding her hand gently. When Hurley protested, saying that he had to get to Jack, Rose had told him it was over. Jack hadn't even seen the man until hours after he'd died.

There was Mr. Eko, who had been found out in the jungle, some mushed fruit and water bottles beside him. Jack was relieved to see that there were footprints around his body, the marks of somebody else's body. At least the religious man hadn't been alone when he'd died. His stick was clasped tightly in his hands, and his eyes stared unseeingly toward the sky.

There was Libby, who had come so close to the end unscathed. Who had fought so bravely with the men. Hurley had sat beside her all night long, as she'd cried out and screamed. He'd held her in his arms when she'd shook, and wiped at her face when she sweated. He kissed her when she asked him to, and cried when she told him not to. Jack had left them alone in the last minutes.

There was Sawyer, who was still lost somewhere in the jungle.

Then there were the others, too. There was Ana, with her thousand scrapes and bruises, and her lost eyes. There was Charlie, with a bullet through his shoulder and infection threatening. There was Locke, who had shut himself in the hatch and refused to come out. There was Michael, who still hadn't woken. There was Kate, who went into the jungle every day, and returned every night looking a little more haggard.

"Jack," Claire said one night, sitting with him as he tended to Charlie's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is," he said blindly, peeling off bandages and cutting up new ones. "I crossed the lines."

"Well, whether it's your fault or not, nobody's blaming you," Charlie spoke up. "Bloody hell, if I'd been there I would have done. Michael did it."

Jack smiled a little at that, and tied the bandage up, handing the man several antibiotics.

"Take those"

"I know, I know, one every two hours," Charlie popped one in his mouth and swallowed it quickly. "I've got the drill down."

Claire laughed, and grabbed him by his good arm, pulling him to his feet and dragging him toward the beach.

"Thank you, Jack," she said. "I know that you're doing the best you can."

He shook his head, and began putting supplies back on their respective shelves. Sure. The best he could, which had ended up getting them all killed.

"Jack!" He heard Kate's voice screaming from just outside the cave, and hurried out to meet her. "Jack! I found him!"

He didn't need to ask who she'd found. He just grabbed his bags and ran into the jungle.

"Hey doc," Sawyer said weakly. "Long time no see."

The man had found himself a small cave, and crawled into it. It wasn't a bad place, Jack had to admit. There was fresh water running in a creek, and it was protected from the weather. He didn't say any of that, though. He just knelt beside the man, and ripped of his shirt.

Sawyer winced as dried blood came away with the cloth, and his shoulder began to bleed again. "Hell, doc," he said. "Didn't know you was into that kind of thing. I have to admit, I think I'd prefer Freckles ripping my clothes off."

Kate laughed, a relieved, sobbing sound, and Sawyer turned to look at her. The smile slowly disappeared from his face. Jack didn't know why Kate suddenly looked so sad, so disappointed. He yelled at her once, as she suddenly turned and ran from the scene, but then sighed and returned to examining Sawyer.

"What was that all about?" Jack asked. Sawyer shrugged his one good shoulder.

"I messed up," he said. "How'd everyone else make out? Did the guns get there in time?"

Jack nodded his head, and deftly bandaged up the shoulder before moving to the man's leg. He unzipped the man's pants, and began to slowly pull them off.

"Now we're just getting personal," Sawyer complained, but he was too weak to stop Jack. The wound in the leg was clean, Jack was glad to see. He bound that one again, and then, struggling, managed to do the other man's pants up again.

"Hey."

Both men looked up. Ana-Lucia was standing there in front of them, Kate just a little behind her. "How you doing, cowboy?"

"Peachy keen," Sawyer said, smiling and dimply for her. Jack sighed, and slung one of Sawyer's arms over his own, standing up.

"We've got to get him back to the hatch," he said simply. He looked at the two women standing in front of him, neither moving to help. "Well?" he asked.

"Go ahead," Kate said softly, her eyes downcast toward the ground. "I think he'd rather have you there than me."

"No," Ana said. "He wouldn't."

"But—"

Jack was dying to know what the women were talking about, or why Sawyer had suddenly gone so still, and his face seemed even whiter than it had a moment ago. Kate looked up, hopefully, staring at Sawyer's face.

"Aw, hell, Freckles," Sawyer said. "You know it's always been you."

Kate still seemed confused, but she was wearing a contented smile as she dipped under Sawyer's arm and helped support him back to the hatch.

In a way, it had all worked out, Desmond realized. It had taken some deaths, but at least he and Rousseau had been fully initiated into the island cult. Charlie and Claire had reconciled. Sayid had joined the women he loved. And it looked as though the Island love triangle/parallelogram had settled down.

"I'm sorry."

Desmond turned around to see Rousseau behind him. She had showered, probably for the first time in sixteen years. He thought she looked beautiful.

"I am, too," he said.

"You were right," Rousseau sighed, and wrapped her arms around her legs. "But I miss her."

"I know," he said, and put one arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close to his body. He kissed the top of her head, gently, hoping she wouldn't notice. "We'll find her someday."

She fell asleep like that. Desmond just continued to watch the sunset. He saw the lone figure get up, when it was full dark, and head back to the hatch.

"Hey," he said. "Be careful. The Others are still out there."

Ana-Lucia turned to look at him, her face a shifting kaleidocope of shadow and light. "I know." She said.

She continued on past the two, her heart breaking a little as she saw them so close. Just one more conversation, she though to herself. Just to close it. Just to make sure.

She crept into the hatch, tiptoeing around Locke. He had fallen asleep over a piece of paper with a curious drawing on it. A large question mark stood in the middle of the paper, circled multiple times.

There was Jack, lying on the couch with his arm flung over his eyes. She grabbed an afghan from a nearby chair, and laid it over his sleeping form. Poor Jack, she thought tenderly. He's almost as lost as I am.

And then into the back room, the one with the bunks. Kate was asleep on the top one, and Sawyer was lying on the bottom. She knelt beside his bunk.

"Hey," she said softly. He came awake immediately, shifting a little to look at her.

"Hey," he said back.

She held a finger up to his lips, stopping him before he could say anything else.

"Listen, for once," she said. "No smart aleck remarks. You know that she's all wrong for you, right? You know that I'm better for you."

He reached over with his good hand, and pulled her finger away from his mouth.

"I know," he says. "But hell, don't they always say love is blind?"

Ana nodded, tears in her eyes. "Yeah," she said, forcing a smile. "It explains a lot, don't it."

"Don't it ever," Sawyer said. She nodded her head, and prepared to leave. But he reached over, grasped the back of her head, and pulled her in tenderly. "Ana. . ."

"Don't," she said softly. But he did.

One slow, lingering kiss. She closed her eyes, willing the moment to go on forever. But of course it didn't.

"There," he said, releasing her, and falling back, exhausted, onto the bed. "That's one for the road."

"Two," Ana corrected him with a smile, resisting the urge to touch her lips with trembling fingers. "That's the second one, cowboy. Two for the road."

And she walked out of the room. She saw Jack sprawled on the couch, and walked over. She carefully kissed him as well, on the forehead, sealing the four of them. From Kate to Sawyer to me to you and back to Kate, she thought. It all came back to Kate.

Jack opened his eyes. She smiled at him.

"It's not your fault, Jack," she said.

"Thank you," he responded.

And Ana sat beside him and cried.

The funerals were held the next day.