A/N: Just a little something that came to me last night. Amazingly I wrote it all in about 40 mins, and was happy with it, so here we are.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost (yet), it is the property of JJ and ABC. (But a girl can still dream - hence the fanfiction)
It was not the first time that Jack Shepherd had watched the beautiful brunette, with captivating green eyes, sat at the other end of the bar. No, in fact Jack had positioned himself so perfectly that he had a direct view of her every movement. She was straight ahead of him, the natural place to look, he wasn't looking at her, he wasn't watching her, and most certainly was he not staring at her, making small hand gestures, raising her eyebrows, smirking slightly…nope he was not watching her at all, merely looking straight ahead of him.
It wasn't her astounding natural beauty that amazed him, that drew his attention, it was the simple things she did. It was the way she would run her hands through her tightly curled chocolate tresses, and leant her head backwards whilst doing so; the way she lightly tapped her fingers on the mahogany bar, whilst she watched the drinks mat, twirling it around in her other hand; it was the way her eyes glinted of stories untold the corners of her mouth upturned slightly, and then the way they'd invert when she thought no-one else was looking, and the way her green eyes darkened. It was the way her voice sounded, soothing, comforting yet beautiful, almost like a babbling brook falling, and turning over rocks and pebbles on its journey. It was the way that for a fraction of a moment, he could swear she was staring straight back at him, a fixed gaze, and interested one; not 'why the hell are you staring at me you strange, strange man', but one that gleamed with hope, with desire, with warmth with general interest of the people around her.
From his observations, Jack could tell that she wasn't as happy as she seemed. There would come a time, when no-one was looking, she'd turn her head, toward the window, the ceiling or the bar, and a vacant look would flood her face, and when it did a vague numbing feeling overtook him, and a strange desire to reach out for the mysterious stranger, who didn't seem so mysterious at all. Jack wasn't like other people, he didn't let things just pass him by; he was a surgeon, he picked up on all the details, if it interested him, he drank it in. He was sure, if you asked him at some ungodly hour in the morning, he'd be able to tell you exactly what she looked like, exactly how she sounded, how she acted, how she smiled sadly, and laughed ironically, seemingly beautiful yet at times, Jack felt, heart wrenching. Yes, Jack felt a desire to get closer to her, although he wouldn't mind loving her, worshipping her, he knew what she needed, a friend. Someone she could trust so completely, to let everything out, to talk, discuss, and analyse. Someone who could offer her warmth and happiness. To make that smile permanent, to make her laugh more often, to soften and lighten her eyes. She just needed someone, he could tell. He'd been like that before. You put on a front, pretend your perfectly fine, that nothing can harm you, when inside, you feel so broken, like your heart is breaking in two; the dark is seeping in, from the corners, from the doors, the windows, even the lamp on your desk – the kind of darkness that swallows you whole, and you're not sure if you'll ever see the light again. But she should, the green eyed, brunette, should most definitely see the light, feel the light, touch the light. No more forced smiles, no more fake, ironic, sad laughs.
It was then that Jack decided what to do. Next time he saw her, he would just go at sit beside her, if he could. Maybe he wouldn't make her talk, not at first…but he'd let her know, eventually that she wasn't alone. Even if she was, effectively, in dictionary terms, a stranger, he was there, and he would accept her for who she was, because that's the kind of person Jack his. Warm, forgiving, compassionate and caring.
Jack didn't see her the next night, like he'd expected, like he'd predicted. He'd remained in the bar half an hour longer than usual, wondering if she would appear or not, eventually. Not feeling the need to drink, Jack held the glassful of Coke in his hand, watching the ice melt, finding himself, once again thinking about her, and the mysterious air about her. He wondered where she was tonight, what she was doing that had broken her routine, if she was alright…or if she was now feeling worse than ever, he wondered if she felt so low, so bad that she felt it best to completely ignore the rest of the world, and to shy away from people altogether. Jack remember feeling like that, it was totally unfair, it was horrible….absolutely horrible, and now, thinking about his past once again, wondered how on Earth he'd actually survived it.
It's like she's suddenly, spontaneously, decided to be unpredictable. And Jack kind of liked that.
To Jack's relief she came in the next day. Jack was making his was back from the bathroom, as he spotted her seemingly dance across the room, her movements were graceful, fluid, yet there was something else there, in her walk, in the way she her hips swung; it was different. There was something weighing her down, she had that dark, empty look in her eyes, he noticed as she briefly looked around, and down at the bar. Mere seconds later, she raised her head, looking around the bar with a more neutral face, her eyes slightly lighter, and her gaze settled upon him.
Jack offered her a friendly smile as he made his way to the bar, ordered his usual Jack Daniels for this kind of day, which when thought about was kind of ironic. Jack drinks Jack. Jack carefully manoeuvred himself around the pillar, hiding the troubled brunette from him. Jack smiled, relieved and thankful that there was a spare seat next to her.
He swiftly sat on the stool, running his thumb around the rim of his glass; he hesitantly looked up to see her watching his hands, and then his face. Noticing this she blushed, and gave him a shy, apologetic smile. He shook his head and smiled at her.
She recognises him he realises, as she smiles warmly at him briefly and gestures over to the other side of the bar where he usually positions himself. Looking to the bar briefly, he nods his head, and by the time he looks up again she's facing away from him. As if nothing had happened, which in reality, nothing had.
Reaching into the pocket of his dark slacks, Jack draws out a piece of paper, and takes a pen from the breast pocked of his shirt, to scribble a quick note to her. He folds up, before turning to her, to find her watching him with obvious interest. He chuckled slightly as he pushed the note into her hand, smiling as the skin to skin touch tingled and sparked an unfamiliar feeling inside of him. He grins as he thinks he feels her shudder, positive it's from his touch, as he believes that the hot, humid, stuffy air in this bar couldn't possibly make anyone shiver as if they were cold. After all he's a doctor, he should know these things.
He watches her read the note, her tongue touching her bottom lip, and how she drew it in, biting down on the other side of her lip. He stops himself from laughing as her head jerks up, trying to read him, probably to make sure that he is genuine, and really not just trying to get in her pants, even if, secretly he wouldn't mind; he'd be a fool not to, he reminded himself. He sees the look in her eyes soften and her eyes pale a shade or so. He nods, and smiles warmly at her, working that old 'Shepherd Magic'. Her eyes grow understanding and slowly, so slowly at first, she nods.
"Thank you Jack," She smiles. "I'm Kate." She tells him, and he's sure at that moment, as he hears her voice and feels her hand resting lightly on his, as a sign of thanks, he feels a jolt of electricity shoot through him.
And he knows, Jack knows, that he will never quite be the same. Because he's spent so long watching, and trying to read Kate, he knows that she's accepting her offer of friendship; that something is beginning to happen between them. Jack knows, he's met another fallen angel, not all dissimilar to himself and because he's been there, he knows – she just needs a little hope, a little trust, perhaps a joke or two, she just needs to know that there's always going to be someone else there. And Jack will be damned if he's not the person to pick up Kate, the perfect fallen angel, and bring her to her feet, show her the light, tell her that everything will work out, regardless of how similar or different their situations are. He knows, in that moment, where she smiles, and her eyes look on warmly, and her hand is still rested on his, that there is hope for her, that he can, and will help her. Jack will pick her up, and he'll show her the way. No longer will Kate be a fallen angel; she won't have to feel used, abused and broken any longer. No, Jack will make sure of that. No longer will she be a fallen angel, but Jack will make sure that she is just, his perfect angel.
She may have fallen from heaven, she may have tripped and stumbled along her way, she may have bruises, and scars from her fall. But there's hope for her yet. And Jack knows she has most definitely not fallen from grace. If he helps her, she can find her way back to heaven, and a long the way, he will show a safe haven, a place where she can just be, where she can finally live, be free be herself. He will show her a safe haven, one she can share with him. A place where they can be, two souls intermingling; having found one another, refusing to let go – and Jack knows, he can show her a place where all of this can happen. He'll be her support system, he will make sure she never falls again, he will show her the wonders of the world, as he's recently discovered himself.
And if she lets him; he will show her, exactly what it's like to be loved, and in return, to love with all your heart and soul. Not now, he knows that now is too soon, but eventually.