Jack Shephard sat in the cool auditorium of Stanford University, supremely uncomfortable. His hand flew to his neck, loosening his red pinstriped tie. His father had forced him to come to this conference, a meeting of the minds for all the "up and coming" young doctors of America. Jack tried vehemently refusing, wanting to instead stay home and spend the summer traveling with his city's all-star baseball team. It hadn't taken long for his father to effectively crush his teenage hopes of playing major league ball, and tell him that if he knew what was good for him, he would be at Stanford on July 1st.
So here he was, sitting alone amongst the mass of young men and women, listening to the conference director call out room assignments. She had already named 102 assignments and his name had yet to be called. He twirled his ballpoint pen between his fore and middle fingers, whistling softly to himself.
"Room 201C. Thomas Brennan and Jack Shephard."
He sat up immediately, grabbing his duffle bag from the chair next to him. He slung it over his shoulder and walked down the carpeted aisle, aware of the brown haired boy parallel to him, whom he could only assume was Thomas Brennan. Jack reached the director first. He accepted the orientation packet and took the two nametags she offered. He half-smiled and nodded at Thomas, who did the same and followed Jack out of the auditorium and into the hallway.
As soon as they were outside, Thomas stuck out his hand. "Thomas Brennan," he said jovially. "You can call me Tom."
"Jack Shephard. Jack," Jack said, shaking Tom's hand.
"This place is great, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
Tom took his nametag from Jack and pinned it to his white collared shirt. "My mom didn't want me to go away for the summer, she said she'd miss me too much." The pair arrived at their room. Jack opened the door, revealing two twin beds and a large chest of drawers in the center. "Of course, my dad was basically pushing me out of the house. He knows I've wanted to be a doctor since I got my first toy stethoscope."
Jack raised his eyebrows, trying to summon a smile unsuccessfully. He pointed towards the bed on the left. "Hey, do you care which bed?"
"Oh no, sure, take whichever." Tom dropped his own duffle on the other bed. "Do you mind if I call my girlfriend? She was kind of worried about me going so far away for such a long time."
Jack looked at the white phone sitting on top of the bureau. "Sure, go ahead. I'm just going to unpack. I'll take the bottom three drawers."
Tom picked up the phone and dialed a long number. He unzipped his backpack and pulled a crinkled photograph out from the front pocket. He passed it to Jack. "That's Katie. On the right."
The picture was of three people, Tom in the middle. A blonde girl hung over his left shoulder, laughing. The girl on the right, Katie, wasn't smiling. She was looking at the camera with a mysterious sort of smirk, as if she had a thousand secrets hiding just below the surface. Jack was struck with the sudden desire to learn all of those secrets. The picture was taken at sunset, and the rays of light were reflecting in her green and gold-flecked eyes. She was beautiful.
Jack gave the picture back to Tom, who threw it to one side, already very involved in the conversation. Jack opened his duffle bag, removing neatly folded piles of clothing. He opened the bottom drawer, depositing his boxers and socks.
"Katie, calm down. I can't understand you."
He put his jeans and khaki pants in the middle drawer.
"Katie. Katie. Slow down. What happened?"
He put his t-shirts in the top drawer.
"Katie. Just listen to me. It's going to be okay. You have to breathe."
Jack pulled out his notebooks and pens, placing them neatly on the small desk. He left plenty of room for Tom to put his own belongings. The other boy had just finished talking to Katie, and was hurriedly dialing another number. Tom listened to the earpiece for several seconds, then swore and slammed it down on the receiver.
"What's wrong, man?" Jack asked, sitting down on his bed.
"Kate, she has this step dad. Wayne," Tom said, dialing again. "Sometimes, he starts drinking. He can get kind of violent. Usually he just screams at her, and her mom, but she said he hit her this time. The bastard."
Jack swallowed. He understood alcohol and there was something that made him want to help, need to help. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No. I'm just going to go home. Catch the next plane back to Iowa. Katie needs me."
Jack felt an unexpected tinge of remorse. He didn't meet many people like Tom, people who seemed to be genuinely good at heart. He didn't want him to leave, so that Jack would invariably get stuck with a different, sub par roommate. But he understood the need to help. He would have gone too, if it had been his girlfriend. He would have gone in a flash. "Yeah, man, I understand. Just… You know where to find me. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
"Thanks," Tom said, hoisting his bag over his shoulder again. "I'm going to go talk to the director. Look, it was great to meet you." He stuck out his hand, which Jack vigorously shook.
"Good luck," Jack said.
Tom smiled and walked out the door. He was halfway down the hall when Jack caught sight of the photograph, forgotten on Tom's bed. He grabbed it and ran out the door. "Tom!" he shouted.
The other boy stopped. He saw the picture in Jack's hands and quickly ran to get it. "Thanks, Jack. I owe ya one. Katie would have killed me if I lost this."
"No problem," Jack said. "Just go and help your girlfriend. Make sure she's okay."
"I will, believe me," Tom said. "See ya around, man."
Jack watched him until he disappeared from sight. Then, he returned to his room and shut the door, feeling inexplicably broken and alone.