In the End

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four: Haunted

A fire crackled. Stirring, Jack frowned as he was awoken by a soft strumming from nearby. He looked up, confused and saw that the fire was indeed still burning; and across from it sat Alex, playing guitar. Alive and well. Her hair hung in layers around her face as she fingered chords, combing the notes that made up the familiar song of "The Stranger"..the Billy Joel song with the piano tune she had always been humming. But now..now she was hear playing it, alive.

"Hey," Alex greeted as Jack became fully awoken, "you wanna help me?"

Jack just stared at her, not sure what to think. Had it all been a dream? He looked around at the graveyard he was asleep in. Even in the dark Jack could see that Shannon's grave-mark was still there..and so was Alex's. What the hell was going on?

"There's this string," Alex explained, plucking a badly out of tune A, "it's driving me insane trying to tune it. Here."

He could only stare at the guitar as she handed it to him over the fire. As it passed the flames there was a loud whoosh, but the instrument didn't get damaged, Jack observed.

"I don't play," Jack reminded her.

Alex laughed.

"It's just one note," she said with a bemused smile, "come on, help me."

Muscles feeling stiff and brain heavy, Jack balanced the guitar on his knee, which was dangerously close to the flames itself. He places his hands on the threfts, though he had no clue what to do.

"This can help me boost sells, you know," Alex babbled on, "Charlie was talking about it, with the crash and all?"

This certainly wasn't like Alex, Jack thought as he studied the guitar confessedly. The strings looked broken in yet new, and there wasn't a single scratch on the instrument's surface. During her stay on the island, Alex never once mentioned profiting from their experience, and hardly ever mentioned her musical career at all. Every now and then something about Adam would escape, but that would be all.

"So go ahead," Alex said cheerfully, crossing her legs as she folded her hands in her lap, acting more bouncy and energetic than Jack had ever seen her before.

Not wanting to let her down, Jack managed a weary smile. Though he was shocked to find Alex alive, Jack quickly wanted to take advantage of having her back; making up for what he did to her. Taking a deep breath, Jack placed a finger over what Alex had pointed out as the A string, and pressed his finger down hard on the string. With his other hand Jack strummed the note, resulting in a painfully wrong tune of a C. Alex let out a dry laugh in front of him, and Jack scrawled to himself for his failed attempt. Once again Jack placed his fingers over the strings, but as he began to strum again, something went terribly wrong. The guitar became steadily lighter in his hands, and lighter in color as well. Confused, Jack looked down to see the guitar fading quickly from his grip. Across from him Alex watched, horrified as her possession of pride and joy vanished right before her very eyes. The flames suddenly flickered madly in front of him, stretching in a threat to capture Jack's skin and burn it into a disappearance. Just like the guitar.

"Why did you do that?" Alex demanded, her voice rising and falling in panic, face frightened.

"Alex, I'm-" Jack began desperately, but the flames were becoming too much. He coughed as they jumped closer, fire burning sweat on his forehead.

"What did you do?" Alex screeched into the night.

Surely someone heard that. Jack looked around, nervous. He opened his mouth to plead to her to calm down, but the flames were engulfing the scene. No longer could he make out the grave markings; he had enough trouble concentrating on keeping Alex's face in view, however angry and red it was. The wind kicked up just then, pushing the flames around them though leaving the trees unmoving, and in a blink of an eye, Alex was gone.

Jack woke up with a gasp to loud panting. Groaning and rolling over, he saw that it was morning. Above the trees around him the sun was shinning, and the grave markings glistened in the rays. The fire that had burned so feverishly in his dream was now put to rest. Fighting to calm down, Jack didn't realize for a moment that the panting didn't belong to him. Vincent was eye to eye to him, wagging his tail excitedly as he greeted Jack for the first time in months. No one had even seen Vincent around since Michael and Walt were taken.

"Hey buddy," Jack sighed in relief, scratching the lab's ears. Vincent barked in response, laying down and rolling over on its back beside Jack. He couldn't help but to laugh; he must've been the first person the dog saw in weeks, "what're you doing back here?"

Vincent barked again and jumped up at the question. Puzzled by the sudden movement, Jack scurried to his feet, and followed Vincent as he charged through the jungle. After awhile the trees began to look the same, and Jack began to panic; but loud barking eased his nerves, and Jack quietly made his way over to some brush Vincent was hiding behind. Carefully, Jack took his place beside Vincent, and the dog quickly looked from him to the parting branches, giving him just enough room to see through the clearing. Sayid and Boone were standing there, talking in low voices.

"At least we got the system back up, right?" Boone was pointing out.

System? The word stuck out to Jack like mismatched socks: something just didn't seem right about it. Furrowing his eyebrows, Jack scooted in closer hear better.

"The system isn't everything," Sayid replied dryly, almost seeming insulted that Boone would suggest such a thing.

Vincent looked up to Jack as if asking him what was going on.

"Good boy," Jack whispered in praise, patting Vincent's head, "go find Sun."

He didn't know why Jack sent the dog to Sun, and after thinking about it for a moment, he realized what a sad shocker. After all, she had been closed with Michael, and then out of no where his dog comes up. Shaking himself out of it, Jack scolded himself for thinking so ridiculously. Sayid and Boone were discussing some kind of system, and he was contemplating guilt over a dog.

"You wouldn't say that if John were here," Boone snorted in a knowing way, clearly hitting a nerve.

"Then it's a good thing he's not here," Sayid recovered smoothly, hostility rather than defeat in his tone.

Boone's smirk faded, losing once again. Jack watched the two argue, trying to figure out what was going on while feeling slightly betrayed for being left in the dark. While he was theoretically still leader, there was no doubt in his mind that mini alliances had been made throughout the camp. Cutting into Jack's thoughts, Boone sighed.

"What are we going to do?" He inquired, sounding like he was ready to give up.

Sayid suddenly stepped out of his box just then, as if switching sides of his character. Ignoring Boone's question Sayid turned to the jungle around them, eyes landing on the exact spot Jack was standing on at that moment. Jack froze, feeling even his mind stop as Sayid's eyes fell on him, just missing making eye contact. He almost expected Sayid to point him out or charge forward, but Sayid simply inverted his concentration back to the problem at hand, still unknown to Jack.

"Give me some time," Sayid replied, remaining calm though Boone seemed helpless.

He stalked off, leaving Boone alone in the clearing. Afraid any movement would draw attention to himself, Jack watched as Boone stared at the ground, as if praying for the earth to bring him answers. Then, giving one final sigh, Boone left as well.

(space)

Sun found Sayid rummaging through his open tent, used as more of a storage center than a place of living. Her right hand clutched tightly around the object in her hand, Sun had to remind herself to breathe as she approached him, every step of the way contemplating turning and running away.

"Sayid?" Sun called in a soft, cautious voice, careful not to startle him.

For a second Sayid tensed, but immediately eased at Sun's voice. Seeing this made her smile a little.

"Good morning," Sayid greeted, offering Sun the smallest of smiles in return for hers. While her attention was taken by the greeting and her reason for coming to him, Sayid stuffed some papers underneath a suitcase. "What can I help you with?"

Instead of responding verbally, Sun held out her hand, slowly releasing her clutched fist to reveal a golden watched that twinkled in the sun's rays. She waited for him to say something as Sayid studied the watch, taking in its smooth exterior and obviously expensive make.

"That's quite a gift," Sayid commented.

"It was Jin's," Sun confessed.

"May I?"

Carefully handing Sun the watch, she let each link of the thick chain that held the watch together dropped one by one out of her hand as the jewelry slid into Sayid's palm. He examined it carefully, noting that there was no label of where it was from.

"Where is this from?" Sayid questioned more seriously than he meant to, slightly startling Sun into silence as he held her watch in his hand. Realizing how forcefully he was coming on Sayid sighed. "It doesn't work," he observed.

Sun looked down, a little embarrassed at her shyness. She was usually comfortable with speaking out around people she was familiar with, though she was able to blend in if society demanded it.

"I was hoping you could look at it," Sun explained at last, determined to build up her confidence in order to make her cause seem more worthy. "Please, I-"

"It won't be any trouble," Sayid promised reassuringly, "I'd be happy to look at it."

Waiting until he received Sun's half-smile of approval, Sayid crouched down into the sand, kneeling beside stack of luggage that could serve as a temporary worktable.

"But I must warn you," Sayid went on, "I'm not used to models of such make and expense-" he looked directly at Sun, "especially when I don't know it's origin."

"Is that important?" Sun asked, swallowing.

Jin worked so hard to conceal his secret occupation, lying to everyone from the everyday citizen to Sun herself, and she knew why. Sun shivered, knowing what her father was capable of. If there was any chance they were to ever get rescued, and something slipped..

"It could be," Sayid admitted, "different watches can operate in different ways-" with a sharp tool that appeared out of nowhere, Sayid was able to pop open the back of the watch, "but luckily it's a very similar process of time." For a moment he worked, examining the interior of the watch closely. "If you don't mind me asking, why fix this now?"

Sun grew momentarily distant, remembering how important it was to Jin to have the watch- he nearly killed Michael over it. In the end he must've given it up, because they found the watch on Michael's wrist. Even though that would've required a lot of courage from someone who rarely liked to admit their mistakes, Sun couldn't bring herself to allow the jewelry to be buried. So she kept it.

"Sentimental value," she replied honestly.

The answer seemed to please Sayid. Sun smiled sadly, accepting a pause that followed. She glanced to the side, hoping to find something to spark conversation, preferably away from her. To her luck, a purple necklace was dangling from a handle of a suitcase, latched carefully around it in keepsake.

"Was that Shannon's?" Sun asked carefully.

Sayid looked up at her, and Sun nodded to the necklace. He glanced back at it. At first it was as though Sayid was seeing the necklace for the first time, but then his expression softened tremendously. Reaching to it, Sayid carefully unlatched the chain and placed the necklace in his palm. He stared at it, lost for a moment, before Sun's shadow reminded him of his visitor.

"Would you liked to keep it?"

That was the last thing she expected him to say, and the last thing she wanted to hear. She hoped that wasn't the message she sent at asking him about the jewelry. Caught in the moment, Sun was unsure of what to say. To be fair, should she offer him the watch? But she didn't want to give it to him. She just wanted him to fix it. It was the most valuable thing- both in price and memory- she had left of Jin, as the necklace was with Shannon. Why then, was he so quick to get rid of it?

"Boone," she said suddenly, the name stumbling out of her mouth.

The name seemed to bring Sayid back to reality, his reaction expressing realization, as for the moment they were the only two around.

"I'm sure he-" Sayid began, and was almost grateful when Sun cut him off. Saying Boone wouldn't mind would be lying through his teeth.

"No," Sun said, pointing, "Boone."

Turning, Sayid saw that Boone was standing, watching the two in a still shock of disbelief. Sayid gripped the necklace tightly to keep it from sliding, he couldn't escape meeting Boone's eyes of betrayal. He quickly looked away.

"If you wish," he continued, swallowing, "I can let you know about the watch in a few hours."

Sun smiled gratefully.

"Thank you," she expressed, sounding relieved.

She glanced up to offer sympathy to Boone, but he was already gone, only his tracks in the sand left behind. As she walked away she left Sayid sitting there in the sand, necklace still in hand as he stared down at it.

(space)

Kate bit her lip as she stood in the sand, ignoring the fact that she was in the middle of the beach, in everyone's way. People walked past, still transporting luggage from the caves, without a care to her worries. Constantly she scanned the jungle, but in the end she focused on a single path that came out of the woods. That would be the one he'd come out of, she decided. She held a hand to her cheek, now bruised from Danielle's fist, partially to ease the pain, partial to prevent the questions. Because then they'd ask about Jack. How was she supposed to explain his running off in the middle of the night? She wouldn't even know what she was lying about.

"You looked perplexed."

Her heart nearly leaped at Jack's voice. It was all she could do to cover not being caught in surprise. He'd come up from behind her, how'd she miss him? Nevertheless, Kate smiled to herself.

"Perplexed, huh?" Kate teased.

"Yeah," Jack said, approaching her, "after walking by Sawyer I decided I needed to expand my vocabulary."

Grinning, Kate turned around to greet him.

"Where have you been?" Kate demanded, crossing her arms.

Jack looked apologetic, but not too sympathetic.

"I just needed to do something," he replied.

She knew he was doing his best to answer accurately without revealing too much.

"I wake up in the middle of the night and you're not there," Kate expressed, hurt, "what am I supposed to think?"

"I don't know," Jack shrugged, taking out a full bottle of water from his bag, "possibly what could one be doing in the middle of the night?"

He took a swig of the water and handed it to Kate, who glared at it in disgust. At the reaction, Jack placed the bottle back in the bag.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "next time I want to sneak out, I'll tell you first."

Kate rolled her eyes at the sarcasm, too relived to have the heart to fight back.

"How's the cut?" Jack asked, reaching up and gently touching the bruise on Kate's cheek.

"Fine," Kate replied.

She winced in pain as Jack's finger brushed against the scarred skin. Jack brought his hand down, giving her a look that read "I told you so".

"I'm fine," Kate said, trying to sound more confident. "Have you eaten?"

Jack glanced towards the jungle for a moment, as if having to think about the question.

"I'm not hungry," he replied, more softly than before, the spark of his voice now gone.

Kate frowned as he began to walk towards their new home on the beach, past those who still whispered every time one of the two walked by; especially after Jack's abrupt decision to move. She watched him as they walked, and Kate began to wonder if he had slept during his night out. Jack looked exhausted to say the least, with familiar bags lying even heavier underneath his eyes.

"Has Danielle dropped by?" He asked, smoothly changing the subject.

"Do you really expect her to?" Kate asked, momentarily forgetting her worry, remembering Danielle's sudden outburst of emotion from the night before. None of them had never seen her like that before, and Kate was sure she wasn't the only one who felt guilty for not giving much thought to her reaction of Alex's death. Her daughter's death.

Jack held the flap open for Kate as they stepped into the tent. From the entrance, Kate watched as Jack poured some of his water onto a towel and place it on his forehead.

"Feeling lightheaded?" Kate asked, concerned.

He shook his head.

"Didn't get much sleep," he admitted, confirming Kate's thoughts.

Though if he wanted he had all the time in the world to nap that morning, Kate knew he'd do whatever it took to stay awake anyway, especially now that Danielle had run off and, of course, the baby. The baby. It was just so weird to think, and after what happened with Sarah, God only knew what was going through Jack's mind.

(space)

That night Jack didn't get much sleep as well. He tossed and turned for what felt like no reason at all; he was exhausted. Staring up at the tarp ceiling of the tent, Jack tried to concentrate on falling asleep. At last after what felt like hours, Jack slowly drifted off into a dream, but even in his sleep he felt deprived of true rest.

He was back at the grave-site. A fire was blowing around him, and he feared the heat as it grew nearer, but felt no pain as the flames grazed him. It was almost as though he was physically feeling his fear. Soon the ground began to vibrate beneath him, and Jack gasped in pain as he suddenly hit a hard dirt floor, dirt and earth following him as he fell through the ground, covering him as he fell in a heap. However, when he looked up next he was standing, despite his fall. He looked around, confused, and it took him a moment to realize that he was standing right at the feet of something. Jack looked down. Alex's body was sprawled out on the floor. Instead of laying in a peaceful rest like when they buried her, her head was turned to the side, as if she was only sleeping. Jack stared at the body, guilt flowing back through him as he stared at the girl he could not save. The same girl who suddenly appeared on the other end of the grave, supplying the whimpering tears that softly filled the ground. Jack didn't take the time to noticed the ground above him was now closed in.

"Alex?" He asked softly, puzzled as he watched the same girl who's dead body was laying at his feet cry, knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She was staring at her dead form just as he had, terrified in shock of what she was seeing.

"I-" she failed to form words, choking on her tears as she forced herself to speak. She looked up to Jack. Meeting her eyes was just as real as ever, the same emotion as would ever be. They were dark, full of hurt and betrayal. Never again would they shine, letting in a moment of happiness. Such dead trauma never allowed such a thing. Not on this island. "What happened?"

Jack was at loss for words. Alex was now trembling violently in her shock in confusion, and part of this let Jack actually hope that she would forget about the possibility of accusations. But he knew that wasn't fair. He owed it to her to give her the truth.

"I'm sorry," he said at least, "I tried-"

"No you didn't!" Alex exclaimed, tears rushing down her face. She couldn't even continue. Her eyes still glued to his, she was able to express what she needed to say, needed to accuse. He failed her, and she knew it.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Kate suggested as she threw some wood onto a pile that would soon be a campfire. It was a cool morning, and with the sun hiding behind the clouds heat felt necessary.

"I'm fine," Jack protested, just like the day before. After his dream he'd woken up, feeling cold but oddly enough not in a sweat, like waking up from normal nightmares. He was unable to fall back asleep, and was partially afraid too. Not wanting to startle Kate again by sneaking out, Jack was forced to lay their with the memories of the dream and the guilt it brought. It felt like punishment; cruel and unusual punishment. "I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?" Kate inquired as Jack left the tent without so much as a proper good-bye.

Jack ignored her, too tired to remember to explain himself. He left the tent, only half aware of what he was doing and having no clue where he was going. His eyelids felt heavy, stinging to be closed, but Jack refused to allow it.

(space)

Later that day Kate sat alone on the shore. The sun was bright now, but Jack sitting near a blazing fire nearby. He received his fair share of looks as people passed, including Kate who Jack hadn't even noticed. Disgusted with this, Kate walked right on by, taking her place in the sand away from him. It didn't take long before Sawyer approached her, his usual grin of amusement plastered over whatever was really on his mind.

"You know, if he doesn't watch out," Sawyer began about Jack, "someone's going to trip right over that fire of his."

"Jack's fine," Kate lied, unable to speak truthfully because she didn't know what the truth was.

Sawyer didn't say it but she knew he didn't believe her as he sat down, taking a spot beside her unlike he had been doing recently. Suddenly she came to realize that they didn't talk like they used to; no one talked like they used to. Relationships had become strained, and within trauma people only allowed themselves to be with those they thought they could trust. Those they thought could help them, were they to ever muster up the courage to ask.

"So what's with you lately?" Sawyer inquired, sparing Kate the chance for silence, unlike Jack, who would usually offer her a moment or two before speaking. "You've been all distant."

She almost snorted at the accusation. What did he expect of her?

"I don't know," Kate said casually, "maybe it's the fact that Jack's depressed-" her tone turned suddenly cold- "or maybe it's that plane I saw crash in the jungle."

"Jack's not depressed," Sawyer argued, snickering in amusement.

As if to prove her point, Kate turned around to where Jack was sitting at his fire, oblivious to those walking around him; the world going by. Helpless, Kate turned back to the sea, yearning for the escape it once provided.

"And what plane?"

She held back a sigh, realizing Sawyer wouldn't know what she was talking about. Holding her stare, deep down she hoped, somehow, Sawyer would forget his question. But of course he wouldn't. They were stranded on an island, and she was talking about a plane.

"The day Alex died," Kate began quietly, eyes growing distance in pain at the memories that flashed in her mind as she told her story, "this plane it..it crashed."

Sawyer looked at her, incredulous. Kate felt like she was shrinking, being punished for something she didn't do.

"Yeah, now's the time to tell us," Sawyer snapped.

She flinched a little at the comment, but baring herself for the memories of pain that would come- not only from her experience but from Jack's trauma as well- Kate forced herself to continue.

"Sawyer-" she began quietly, the dead man's name that now belonged to a fake identity coming out of her mouth in reluctant hesitance, a way of avoiding a slow continuing of the truth, "the plane..it got it."

"What do you mean, 'it got it'?" Sawyer said.

Kate was afraid to answer. His tone was unlike one he ever used, a seriousness that exposed something from within him, an opinion or emotion snapping out at you for the attention. And in this case, it was butchered hope.

"The monster, Sawyer," Kate began softly, swallowing hard, "it.."

Now she was beginning to understand what drove Jack into his deep reverie that day: a memory so tragic that it was physically painful to accept. A failure and guilt that was uncallfor, that no one would understand, but it was still there, and the embarrassment that went with it. A fear of exposing such trauma to an innocent society.

Luckily for Kate, she didn't need to go on. Sawyer didn't push her, caught in a mixed reaction of something so absorbed one would've thought they had been sucked into a horror film, one where happy endings existed only a world away. Where one could experience so much death and still be expected to live their lives easily.

"I burnt my letter," Sawyer said suddenly over the silence, a quiet change of subject that was familiar with unwanted conversations, but yet considered a certain disrespect when such a serious topic was being discussed. So Kate couldn't help but to turn to him, both puzzled by the interruption and in wonder of his words.

"What?" She said, currently empathetic towards confession.

"My letter," Sawyer repeated, tone harsh with the same pain Kate was all too familiar with, "I burnt it."

His eyes bore like fire into hers, daring her to say something, daring her to congratulate or put down. Daring her to say that everything would be okay, or to shove it off like it meant nothing. Daring her into a pause in which she searched for words to say that wouldn't startle his emotions.

"What made you do it?" She asked finally, deciding it was a safe question, one that didn't require her own personal opinion.

Sawyer simply shrugged, looking back out to see. In her mind Kate could see a cigaret dangling out of his mouth. A time ago he would've then pulled it out, offering his ruined lounges a breath of air, and then sucked on it again, inching his way towards an early death each time. Or maybe she had just spent too much time with a doctor.

Looking away, Kate offered Sawyer the same relief he gave her of a full confession, but secretly, she was sure she knew why he had done it. It had to be because of Rebecca. Sawyer had carried that letter around for nearly twenty years. The only variable was this island, and though it would constantly push his limits, the only real pressure of changed had obviously come from her. It would be the same as if Kate were to completely destroy the plane, the little toy that sat taped together at the bottom of her bag, unbeknownst to Jack, who originally fixed it back together.

Suddenly Kate shivered. Sawyer made a sudden movement, as if he wanted to say something, but remained silent, easily sliding back into his distant form. The tension made Kate frustrated, made her mind churn for something to say. But all she could come up with was more things she needed to confess. And besides Jack, Sawyer was the next who deserved to know. There were the little things, like descriptive memories of the day Alex died, and then there were the bigger things..she shook at little as she could hear her own voice say it..

I'm pregnant.

She wondered how he would react. Would he be disappointed? Disgusted? Would he even care? She considered telling him just to have it over with, but Kate remembered her request of Jack. It would be unfair, especially if he had been fighting the temptation to tell himself.

"Yeah," Sawyer said, expressing his southern drawl, though no question or response had been given. Placing his hands on his knees, Sawyer pulled himself to his feet. "Well, that's that."

Kate looked up at him, her mind rushing to say something. He had clearly come to her for something, something which he couldn't say straight out. Something of which Kate was supposed to figure out on her own.

"Hey," she said reassuringly, looking up at him, "I'm proud of you-" she paused, considering her earlier worries of what she was supposed to say, "if you want me to be."

Grinning, Sawyer dismissed the offer.

"Don't be," he said, grimacing in that way he sometimes would whenever someone bothered to say something meaningful to him.

With that he left, escaping any small chance of encouragement or whatever it was he actually came for. Maybe that's why he came to Kate, in-particularly, in the first place. Because he knew she could read him like a book, and the support he needed could go unspoken. But it would still be there. A pang of heartache hit Kate, and in a sudden need for reassurance she looked back to where Jack was. She smiled a little, finding him asleep by the fire with his head propped up by a hand.

(space)

Sawyer found Rebecca lying on the one airplane recliner seat that they still had, one of the only ones, in fact, that had survived the months on the island. He almost spoke up instantly, kidding her to get out of his seat. What stopped him was her expression she saw. Lying on the seat Rebecca had her head turned from him, looking so distant, so completely lost that Sawyer almost turned and ran, feeling insecure about being able to deal with this. He could admit that he wasn't the best with emotions, rather it'd be unfamiliar joy and relief, or his own balled-up pain. But other people..his recent conversation with Kate proved his unworthiness in these kinds of situations.

"I'm sorry I made you burn your letter," Rebecca whispered quietly, sensing his silent presence.

The day after he burnt it he hadn't talked much, too preoccupied with his decision. At times he regretted it. He felt like he wanted to scream. like he wanted to be angry. Like he wanted to kill. It should all be over with if the letter was, was his reasoning. But that was impossible now. Then at other times he felt secretively relieved, feeling like the world was in his hands though on the outside he stood paranoid, as if it were all too good to be true. Unsure of how to approach his emotions, Rebecca kept her distance. No more words of encouragement. No smiles approval. It almost made Sawyer angry..he and that letter had been through a lot.

Now it was Sawyer's turn not to know how to approach the other. He sat down on unoccupied room of the recliner, facing opposite of Rebecca, placing his elbows on his knees.

"Twenty years.." Rebecca trailed off in unbelievable disgust in herself, "God, why'd you let me do that?"

"I don't know," Sawyer spat sarcastically before he could gain control of his tone, "you were the one that seemed so keen to it."

Mentally he kicked himself. As Rebecca's eyes began to water, he quickly realized that was the last thing she needed to hear.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

The seat shifted as Rebecca scooted up, sitting upright beside him.

"You were sure of what you were doing, weren't you?" Rebecca asked him, his eyes following him for a reaction.

He knew her guilt needed to be reassured, and he had no choice but to give a slight nod of response. Technically, he thought, it's not lying. Honestly Sawyer couldn't be sure of his motives. As clear as the memory of that night was it was blurry where his thoughts were concerned, and all he could remember was Rebecca begging him to let go of his past. Throwing out the memory had been so easy, but extinguishing it completely? The thought maybe him shiver, chilling his bones.

Rebecca looked down, clearly relieved. At last she looked up a few moments later, wiping away the tears from her eyes. Guilty, Sawyer continued to look away. Suddenly Rebecca reached behind her and grabbed a bag before madly fishing through it. He listened as she cried out in frustration, unable to find what she was searching for, but Sawyer didn't look at her until she pulled out an all-too familiar book: October Sky. Tears once again threatening to stream from her eyes, Rebecca tugged at the corner of the book, and Sawyer was able to grab it, realizing what she was trying to do. She met his eyes, her pupils reeking of apologetic guilt.

"It means just as much," Rebecca breathed, her voice rough and uneven, "as that letter."

He remembered the note written inside, and it was true this was the one item- as far as he knew- Rebecca still had from her previous life. Like the letter, it was prove that she had a past, and more importantly, that now she wasn't who she was supposed to be. Having taken over her twin's identity, the note in that book could've possibly proven the truth. The two pieces of work were so similar, too similar for Sawyer's liking. But now one of them was gone.

At his silence Rebecca jerked the book back towards him, but Sawyer resisted, his strength giving him the ability to pull the novel away, thrusting it into the sand. The page with that very note was torn out halfway. Forcing himself to look down at it, Sawyer noticed the tide was threatening to leak into the pages, and he pulled the book up just in time, but ended up fully ripping the page with the handwritten ink out fully. Taking the note, he forced it into Rebecca's hands, curling her fingers into a first around it.

"Now it's just a book," he said roughly, scaring her with the growling of his words.

The tables were suddenly turned, and Rebecca shook, the page trembling in her hands.

"Damn you," she whispered, voice shaking like mad.

Abruptly she stood, grabbing the book out of his hands with so much force that the pages scratched deeply against his fingers, producing a small red cut that bled crimson against his skin. She stormed off, heading towards the jungle. He let her go, innerly praying she only needed some time to think. It wasn't until she was out of sight that he remembered the dangers of the jungle.

(space)

Jack gasped as he woke up from yet another nightmare. Bright sun-rays blinded his eyes as they snapped open, and Jack's heavy breathing was accompanied by intense heat coming from a still-blowing fire. He didn't see Kate standing behind him until her shadow accidently jumped into view. Jack blushed, or at leas he thought he did, too tired to determine reality. Clearing her throat, Kate presented him with a handmade bowl full of a substance of a color Jack couldn't distinguish in his foggy mind.

"It's tea," Kate explained, seeing his uncertainty. She sat down beside him without asking his permission. "Sun said it would be good for you."

"Good for me?" Jack managed to say.

Kate pushed the bowl closer towards him when Jack turned his nose up at the drank.

"You should drank it," Kate urged softly, her voice sounding soothing against his pounding head and confusing restless mind.

Meeting her eyes, Jack decided he liked the reassurance, and took the tea. He sipped it carefully, letting the liquid warm his insides immediately. The blood flowing to his brain felt rushed for a moment, but then all felt calm, and Jack continued to down the drank, which seemed to please Kate. When he finished drinking the tea he no longer had an excuse for silence, and Kate immediately hit him with a question.

"What's going on, Jack?"

The inquirement almost came like a flashback as Jack remembered being asked the same question their first week on the island, when he had run like mad into the jungle in search for his father. His dead father. This feeling of exhaustion suddenly felt familiar, and with the realization Jack began to feel sick.

"I haven't been sleeping well," Jack admitted, trying to swallow the sudden weakness in his stomach, "that's all."

Kate didn't look convinced. With her eyes she pressured him forward, and Jack knew he had no choice but to continue. Sighing, Jack went on with the confession.

"I've been having these dreams," Jack said, lowing his voice so that only Kate could hear him. He was used to their confessions being told in private, whether it was only along with the calming crashing of the waves, or the assuring privacy of the thick cave walls. Now people were walking around them as they spoke, and Jack suddenly felt uncomfortable sitting in the middle of the camp. "About Alex." Kate watched him, and the familiarness of feeling small in her presence during a confession returned.

"And in each to them," Jack continued with difficulty, swallowing hard in order to continue, "she wants me to help her. But I can't." He shook his head, furious and disgusted with himself. "I won't."

"Jack-" Kate began softly in the way she always did, reminding him of her support that was there.

As flattering as it was, Jack shook his head.

"She wants to know why I failed her," his eyes began to cloud with tears as Alex's had done many times and his dreams, and Jack felt more furious than ever. Compared to Alex, he knew he had nothing to cry over. He looked away, determined not to let Kate see his weakness.

Feeling sick, queasy, along with his overriding guilt, Jack wasn't sure how much longer he could last before he completely lost it.

"You didn't fail her," Kate began quietly, obvious sympathy radiating from her eyes and seeping through her voice, "you need to accept that."

Jack shook his head.

"No," he began shockingly, "no, I-"

"Jack-"

"I've accepted that I didn't save her," Jack said over her. He turned to Kate, studying her face for reaction before meeting her eyes. It was like he was playing a game with her, toying her for sympathy. And Jack hated that. "That's what I've accepted."

That wasn't the answer Kate wanted to hear, and Jack knew it. As guilty as he felt, Jack knew that that was the truth. It wasn't his fault that Kate couldn't see it.

"Someday you'll realize the truth," she said quietly, dismissing him of his thoughts.

Placing a hand on his knee she gave it a squeez and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked, a little too quickly as he watched her.

"You need to rest," Kate instructed, offering him a smile before leaving him to it.

But Jack knew he couldn't sleep. Though he accepted the truth, in all honesty he didn't like it, and he didn't like being reminded of it. He wouldn't sleep, not if he could help it, but he did need to clear his mind. Not to mention he still felt sick.

(space)

Once again Sayid was at the grave-sight when Jack arrived. He secretly felt angry with Sayid for always intruding on his opportunity to be alone there, but he didn't have the heart to come out and say it. After all, Sayid lost someone he loved as well.

"Guess I just have bad timing," Jack said as lightly as he could, preparing to leave again.

"Actually," Sayid said curtly, "you have perfect timing." His eyes twinkled with mischief as he stared at the grave in front of him. "Maybe you should sit down."

Jack took a seat, suddenly thankful he felt less sick than before.

"What's on your mind?" He asked Sayid casually.

Thoughtfully, Sayid paused before continuing.

"Do you ever think about the hatch?"

The unfamiliar word struck Jack like an old patience name from years before. He remembered it, remembered it was significant, but since then so much had happened that he left Locke to deal with it, completely ridding himself of the memory.

"Not really," Jack admitted.

"Maybe you should."

(space)

He was blindfolded. It didn't help the dizziness still settled in his brain, or the curiosity that arose since Sayid's approach to conversation. As Sayid led him into an indoor place- somewhere Jack assumed indoor because of the squeak of a door- he listened closely for other signs of human life. Boone's voice assured him of it.

"You sure Locke didn't see?" Boone sounded nervous.

"Boar have perfect timing as well," Sayid commented.

From nearby, Jack heard something that sounded mysteriously like the dripping of a pipe. The air felt damp and cold, chilling him to a shiver. Another door squeaked opened.

"Before we let you see," Sayid began, speaking into his ear in a serious voice Jack rarely, if ever, heard Sayid speak, "you have to swear you won't tell. Not a soul." A pit forming in Jack's stomach knew that specifically meant not even Kate. Boone was quiet during Sayid's speech in possible sympathy. "And you can't scream."

Without looking for agreement, the blindfold was pulled off Jack. Honestly, he was too surprised to scream. He was standing in some sort of old-timey bedroom, complete with a badge tented light from a rusty bulb in the ceiling. The room was small, more like a closet with a cot and night-stand than a homely living area. Jack noticed the sheets on the bed were old as well, but the person occupying them was not. He was also someone Jack had never seen before.

"We've got our doctor," Boone assured the man in the bed.

"Did he-" the man laying in the bed spoke desperately in his condition, speaking fluently with a familiar foreign accent that was more than likely British.

"No," Boone cut off quickly.

Jack was slightly surprised in how much control Boone seemed to have over the situation, but the condition of the man laying on the cot gained his attention instead. Leg propped up by pillows and rested in some kind of plastic cast, the man was in obvious critical pain. But his doctor mannerisms slowly shifted when the thought of being somewhere indoors, of having some kind of cooling air and light set in.

"Where are we?" Jack began. Sayid never said don't ask questions. "What is this place?"

"You can not know," Sayid replied, ignoring his bewilderment with ease, "but this man needs your help."

He looked down at the patient in bed, and Jack knew Sayid was right. Even though he didn't know who the man was, where they were, or what kind of secrets Sayid and Boone had been keeping, Jack knew he had to help this man.

"Will you do it?" Sayid asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Jack thought about what the commitment would mean. He'd be promising to save this man's life, when recently Jack didn't have a very good record. Exhausted as well, Jack knew he wasn't in the best state of mind, which would be hard to push aside. Not only that, but it'd mean lying to Kate as well. Nevertheless, were he to succeed it'd mean being given a second chance, reminding himself that he could still do some good. That thought, his need for redemption, was enough to make him nod his head in a yes.

(space)

Hours later Callum was in stable enough condition for Jack to leave the hatch, like before, blindfolded so he would see nothing. The diagnoses was not only a serious leg injury, but major blood loss and a high fever as well. They'd have to keep a close eye on the guy, but Boone was just relieved to have succeeded without Locke knowing. But as if on cue, footsteps dropped down into the hatch from the ladder in the next room.

"God, Cal," an unfamiliar voice that was clearly not Locke said into the open space, "if you were going to start using that entrance again, you could've at least made it a little more user friendly." The voice sounded American, possibly Canadian, unlike Callum. "What's with the broken-" the person stepped into the room, right off noticing Boone as the only person left in there, "hello."

The man had to be in his forties at least, and the way he talked reminded Boone of a slightly laid back version of Sawyer. Then again, how much more laid back could you get? Boone stared at the new visitor, startled by the presence that new of one of the other residence of the hatch. With grizzly wild hair laying on his head and a face etched in with wrinkles and mud, the man seemed like an island natural, one who knew his home well. He didn't seem at all intimidated by the person he didn't know, of anything he became any more confident.

"Are you one of them Other people he kept going on about?" The man asked, amused.

Unsure what to say, Boone played his options and replied:

"Yeah."

Smiling, clearly pleased, the man introduced himself.

"I'm Daniel, then," Daniel said, "an American..a shame. I never liked their music. Then again, I'm Canadian myself." He grinned proudly, not at all uneasy about revealing himself to this stranger. "Not much of an argument, huh?" He didn't give Boone a chance to reply. "So what's your name?"

Boone looked around for a quick lie, but something told him eventually his plan would backfire.

"Boone," he offered.

"Well, Boone," Daniel said cheerfully, "found ourselves another one. Not exactly sure who she is, but I figured we could solve at least one or two of these mysteries around here. They've all gotta come from somewhere, right?"

He talked like he and Boone had been friends for ages. Ignoring the truth in this, Daniel reached behind him, and Boone winced as a woman gasped as she was thrown into the room. Boone just stared. At first the woman looked unfamiliar, but then he realized he did know her, and her name.

There, bound with a gag around her mouth, was Rebecca, the woman who was always hanging around Sawyer.

Author's Note: Consider these next few chapters the true climax of the story. I'm thinking there'll only be two, maybe three chapters left(sniffle). More importantly..cookies to anyone who remembers just where we know our Canadian friend from. Thanks for reviewing!

Coming up next, on "In the End":

As the series begins to conclude(sniff), Rebecca goes missing just as the chaos of acception decides to settle in, and Callum's secrets trigger more potential danger for the castaways.

Thanks again!

Until next time..