Chapter 128
He was sleeping on the jungle floor, his arms wrapped around Ana, her body curled tightly against his; he heard a noise, like footsteps in the trees and raised his head, looking off into the bushes. He couldn't see anything but he heard another sound, ice cubes tinkling against a glass and he disentangled himself gently from Ana, trying not to wake her.

He slipped into the trees, following the rattling glass in the ethereal starlight and he realized that the jungle was completely quiet, silent but for the rattling cubes and then he was there; Christian, standing and glowing faintly in the dim light and Jack stopped, his heart in his throat as Christian turned to him, frowning.

"Dad?" He reached out to touch him but his fingers met mist and he waved the mist away, disgusted. He should have known. "What do you want?"

I always knew you'd screw up, Jack. I always tried to help you choose right, to stay off of my path, but as usual you don't listen to a damn thing I say. Now look at you. Up to your eyeballs in shit you have no understanding of, enslaved to a bunch of conniving, power hungry jackals because you think you have to do it for her?

Jack snapped back, "What the hell am I supposed to do then, dad? Where's that sparkling wisdom of yours when I need it, huh?" He cursed himself for letting his father get to him, the bastard knew what buttons to push.

All you had to do was ask, son. He stared at Jack, still frowning but sad, too. Is she worth it? Is she worth your soul, Jack? Because that is what she will cost you, if you insist on doing this for her.

He thought about Ana, smiling at him with that reddish aura, her body coppery in its glow, her soft lips on his, burning him with their heat, the way she arched against him, moaning when he made love to her, and he nodded at Christian. "Yes, she is."

Christian shook his head, obviously disappointed, and his voice was real, not echoing in Jack's head, "You always were a stubborn ass," he sighed as he stepped out of the misty haze, grabbing Jack's arm, suddenly real, tangible, and Jack gasped as Christian's icy cold fingers closed on his arm. "You never listened to me, Jack, but I am begging you to do it now. Don't kill her. Do what you can not to hurt her or the baby." Sadness was etched on his face as he said, "You turned on me because I killed a baby, Jack, don't you remember? And that wasn't so long ago."

He remembered, all too well, how his father used praise and his love to maneuver him into lying about how the woman died, the woman he killed because he was drunk in the OR, and he had done it, lied on the report to the hospital board until he learned the woman was pregnant, and that Christian knew it. He turned on him, exposed his alcoholism and ruined him, and as Jack stared in anger and guilt at the ghost come to life, his guilt manifested itself in denial, and he turned away from Christian as he said, "What do you want, Dad?"

Christian hesitated before answering; he shimmered in the starlight, suddenly ghostly again as his hand melted away from Jack's arm. You've loved two other women, Jack, and neither of them are as black and white as you. He gazed at Jack, meaningfully, trying to tell him something. I am guilty, too, Jack. I have to atone for my sins. Why do you think we are all here?

Cold fingers squeezed Jack's heart as he replied, "You're dead. Isn't it too late for you?" He ignored the stab at Sara and Kate.

Dead? Who says I'm dead? I'm just somewhere else, is all. And it's never too late, Jack. That's why I'm here. You're why I'm here. Don't you see? You were my gretaest sin, you're my atonement.

Jack laughed, harshly, turning back to Christian with disgust. "Well that's too bad for you, because I sure as hell don't forgive you." Angry tears began to stream down his face and Christian smiled gently.

You don't have to forgive me, Jack, you just have to listen. Sighing, he shimmered, starting to fade. Patience, Jack, has always been your greatest weakness. You rush into things without thinking them through, because you're always so damn positive you're right, but this time I am telling you look before you leap, son, open your eyes to what you're doing.

His guilt and regret was shifting rapidly to anger and fury as Christian spoke; who the hell was he to tell him anything? He knew what he was doing, and it was right; he knew because Ana wouldn't be with him if it was really wrong, she disagreed with it but she understood why he was doing it, and as long as she was okay with it he didn't give a damn about anything else.

Then it hit him; he had changed, but was it for the better? His faith flickered for an instant, but the Island whispered to him and he smiled as energy coursed through him, telling him he was right, it was good. Christian was only doing this for himself, as usual, using professions of love and when that didn't work, guilt, to get him to do what he wanted; well, this time it wouldn't work, he wasn't going to fall for Christain's self-serving purposes again. "I know what I'm, doing, Dad. I don't need you to help me."

Regret and sadness played across Christian's face as he began to fade away, becoming transparent in the starlight. Keep my words in mind. He was almost gone, just a disembodied voice as he said, I love you, Jack, and you know it, deep down. I hope you remember it, before the end.

He was gone and Jack was alone in the dark, nothing but the empty rattle of ice cubes in a glass to keep him company, and he stood for a few minutes, staring at the spot where his dad had vanished. He was wrong; Jack had always listened to him, heard him, but his desire to be anything other than what his dad wanted was too strong; the desire to prove him wrong too tempting, and so he had never followed his father's advice, choosing to go against him and old habits died hard, because he was doing the same thing, now.

"What are you doing out here, Jack?"

He jumped at her voice; he hadn't heard her coming and it surprised him, that he didn't even sense her presence. He turned, smiling, and said, "I was dreaming, I think."

She had been worried when she woke and he was gone; he wouldn't leave without her, he wouldn't leave her behind again, and she was scared until she heard his voice floating to her on the wind, faint and distant, and she had sprinted toward it until she saw him through the trees, staring at the ground, sad and lost and she waited, watching him for a few seconds before she spoke. When he turned and saw her his face lit up and she loved him so much, so deeply that her breath stopped, she couldn't draw it. "Are you okay?"

He couldn't be sure if he was dreaming; he had been thinking about her, how he loved her, so much so that he would do anything, anything to have and keep her, even murder. He'd done it for Kate, once upon a time, hadn't he? And what he'd felt for Kate was nothing compared to Ana, so how could he use that as an excuse not to do what he had to? There was no way out, if he wanted her, and he did, more than anything; he ached for her, for the feel of her next to him, against him, around him, and there she was, glowing faintly in the starshine, just like a dream.

Silence fell over them, over the trees, and the stars spun gossamer threads of light as they stared at each other, and Jack said, "Am I still dreaming, Ana?"

She went to him, quickly, pressing her solid, corporeal body to his and she whispered, "I don't know, Jack. Are we? Dreaming?" Her lips met his and he hoped it wasn't a dream, he dreaded waking up, back in Chicago, in his cold, empty house, with no Ana, no Island, no hope. Maybe they were dead already, maybe it was a death-dream, and he was living his life in this purgatory in the instant between life and death, his mind going on while his body, his shell, withered away.

"I hope not. I want it to be real, Ana, I want us to be real." His hands were all over her, feeling her to make sure she was actually there, not just a ghost, or a vision, and she was warm and alive, not cold and he sighed into her, in relief as she put her head on his chest, holding him close. "I love you," he whispered, stroking her hair hanging loosely on her shoulders, and something was radiating from her, some power he didn't understand, and he was suddenly gripped by crushing doubt and fear. "Tell me, Ana."

His fingers were gripping into her back, hard, and he was trembling as she said, softly, "What do you want to hear, Jack?' His confidence, his drive had vanished and he was just Jack, scared, lonely Jack and she loved him more than ever in that instant as he drew a shaky breath.

"Tell me I'm doing the right thing." He needed validation from her but she couldn't give it because she didn't think what he was doing was right; maybe he was doing it for the right reasons but the act itself was wrong; she couldn't bring herself to hurt him, to destroy his confidence even more so she copped out.

"Who's to say what is right, Jack? Only you can decide that."

Disappointed in her answer, he frowned; for her to give such a lame reply meant she didn't want to tell him what she really thought and that worried him more than if she'd just come out and said it; he grasped at anything, any words to stay afloat. "At least tell me you'll still love me, Ana, because I need to know that."

He was almost in tears, shaking against her as she held him, crooning softly. "I will always love you," she said, wondering what in the world had happened to get him so worked up, what the hell kind of dream had he had? "Jack, I will always love you. No matter what."

His trembling eased and he kissed her neck, sending shivers down her spine and she could feel the certainty flow through him again, the confidence and righteousness and she was glad; he had needed her and she gave him what he craved, assurance that he was right, or at least, that he wasn't totally wrong, and she was rewarded by waves of love and desire flowing through her body at his touch, but he pulled away before it became unbearable. "Thank you." He kissed her hand, smiling. "We have to go. It's time."

-----

The horse came to her, in the dark jungle, its glossy coat blending in with the blackness, and it nuzzled her cheek as she said, "Hi, daddy."

The horse spoke. "Hello, Kate."

She threw her arms around his neck and he wasn't the horse anymore, he was Wayne, but not the leering, staring, hateful Wayne; he was the horse, proud and beautiful and Kate withered beneath his benevolent gaze. "I'm sorry, daddy," she cried, and he held her, soothing her and he wasn't Wayne anymore, it was Sawyer and he smiled as he kissed her.

"Sorry for what, Freckles?"

She looked at him sadly, so sadly and he didn't want to know anymore. "I'm sorry for killing you," she whispered, and she pulled a lighter out of her pocket and flicked it on.

He was the horse again and he trotted restlessly around her, snorting and whinnying at the flame in her hands and as he reared up the darkness split with forked blue lightning and the skies opened up in a flood, putting out the flame as the horse reared again and swept past her in the darkness. Run, Kate.

"Kate!" She opened her eyes and they were wild with fear as Sawyer held her, close; she struggled because he was going to kill her, just like she had killed him and she struck out, catching him in the jaw and he let her go and in that instant she had swung again, connecting with the side of his head.

Stars burst in his vision and he fell back against the mattress as Kate leapt away, breathing heavily as she stared around in terror; Sara came before her, looking concerned as she touched Kate's arm and she jumped, seeing Sawyer lying back, his hand to his head. "James!"

She went back to him, falling to her knees next to him on the mattress; his nose was bleeding and he had his hand to his head, looking dazed and she kissed him softly. "Jesus, Kate, why do you always do that?" He could see the fear and regret in her eyes and he softened; she had been thrashing, obviously having a nightmare and he should have been a little more careful waking her. "Are you okay?"

She choked out a laugh. "Am I okay?" She used the corner of her shirt to wipe the blood from his nose, and tears sparkled in her eyes as she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

He could see that her eyes were still a little crazy and faraway, like she wasn't completely awake, like she was still dreaming, still in her nightmare. "Sorry for what?"

"I told you already," she whispered. "I'm sorry for killing you."

Her words struck icy fear in his heart and he hoped to God she was still dreaming; he glanced over at Sara, who was watching with apprehension as he sat up, grimacing at the pain in his head. "I'm not dead, Kate."

She nodded and he was sure she was dreaming, still trapped because her eyes were gone, there was nothing there, nobody home. "Yes, you are, James," she whispered and his stomach dropped. "We all are, we just don't know it." He tried to touch her but she jerked away, backing off of the bed with fear and loathing in her eyes. "Don't touch me, Wayne!"

"You're just dreaming, Kate," he said, trying to get her to lie back down; his head was pounding and he could barely think, and she was scaring the sht out of him. Sara came to the rescue, taking Kate's shoulders and shaking her slightly as Sawyer watched.

"Kate!" she said, sharply, and with a hard shake Kate seemed to snap out of it, her eyes slowly focusing and losing that faraway, lost look; she started shaking as she saw Sawyer, gazing at her with fear and horror. Sara turned her face away from Sawyer, making Kate meet her eyes, giving him time to compose himself. "Kate, are you okay?"

She nodded, still shaking as she gazed into Sara's eyes, and she pulled away, her eyes going back to Sawyer, who was standing, shakily, his head throbbing where Kate's fist had connected with it. Damn, she had a hell of a punch. "James? Are you okay? Did I do that?" She was looking at his nose, still trickling blood.

"It's alright. You've done worse." He wanted to go to her but the look in her eyes when she called him Wayne made his blood icy; he was afraid if he went to her now she'd give him that look and he couldn't bear to try, to risk it.

She needed him, to take away the fear and chill that still lingered in her, though she didn't remember anything much after the horse; what had she done? Why was he keeping his distance, staying away from her? "I don't think so," she said quietly, dropping her eyes to the floor, "I think I hurt you." She waited for him to deny it but he didn't and her eyes finally wandered reluctantly up to his, scared of what she'd find; she didn't expect fear. "What did I say, James?"

He didn't want to ask because he knew how she'd react, but he wanted to know; sighing, he said, "Who is Wayne?"

His fears were realized as her eyes turned stony cold and she snapped, "Why do you want to know?"

Cold, clammy fear gripped his stomach at his own words. "You called me Wayne, just now." His fear and misery turned, as always, to anger and he said with words calculated to hurt her, "For the second time. I heard you in the hatch, when I was 'unconcious'." He mimicked her, cruelly. "And every time I look at Sawyer, every time I feel something for him, I see you Wayne. And it makes me sick." There was no pleasure for him in the horrorstruck expression in her eyes as he threw her words back at her; she shook her head as tears welled up in them. "I guess I still do. Make you sick."

The truth was he made himself sick; why, why, why did he say and do these stupid things? Why take it out on Kate, the one person in the world who really loved him, who would do anything for him? He couldn't bear to look at her, to see her hurt so he stared at the ground. "He was my father." Her voice was quavering, like she was scared to say the words out loud. "I didn't know it until it was too late."

His breath caught in his chest and he could barely choke out the words. "Too late for what?"

Green met blue as his eyes looked up to hers, and she said, sadly, "Too late for me to love him."

They stared at each other for a minute, both forgetting Sara was there until she said, softly, "He's not Wayne, Kate. You know it." She did; he wasn't Wayne, no matter what she had said so long ago, so many ages, so many Kates ago; he was James and no one else. The dream was fading, taking her fear and horror with it, and she made the move this time, she took the step, the move into the next square.

Her eyes didn't leave Sawyer's as she smiled sweetly, apologetically. "I know he isn't." She glanced up at the glass ceiling, at the bright, clear sky and smiled as she said, "We have to go. They're coming."

Forked blue lightning suddenly split the heavens, casting the three of them in flickering cobalt shadows for an instant, and then the rain poured down, washing away the outside world as it pounded on the glass.

-----

The horse came back to the clearing, his coat glossy with rain and he trotted restlessly around the chapel, snorting and neighing as the other animals crept out, shaking their coats and feathers in the beautiful, wonderful rain; the horse bucked and kicked with the joy of it, of the cool drops, and the cool touch of Kate's arms around his neck.

They were coming and would be here soon; the animals readied themselves for his return.