In the End

Chapter Thirty-Six

Disclaimer: "The Cold Hard Truth" was inspired by a Dead Zone episode(one that was, in fact, directed by Anthony Michael Hall), and 'the cold hard truth' actually refers to a radio show. Does that have anything to do with the story? Not really. Also, Locke's monolague was inspired by Johnny's monolague in the Dead Zone episode "The Storm".

"Or maybe it's time someone gives you the cold hard truth for a change."

-The Dead Zone, "The Cold Hard Truth"

"How many times do I have to see people die in my head before I go crazy?"

"But there's one thing I do understand about the universe, and that's my place in it."

-both quotes from The Dead Zone, "The Storm"

"I had to chose between failing as an agent and failing as a mother. I chose to fail as a mother."

- Irina Dervko, Alias

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Cold Hard Truth

Callum rushed into the other room so fast that the other three instinctively followed, the danger of doing so having left their mind. He didn't know what he'd expected, but seeing the room laying empty as normal wasn't in Boone's mind. They looked around, as if expecting a demon to pop out of the shadows. The hatch was full of shadows. In fact, it made a monster seem fitting for a place like this: dark, damp, locked up. Like a monster's lier. Boone shivered at the thought.

"Maybe we should try the door again," Rebecca whispered, staring from where they all were, straight ahead to the annexed room of the hatch, like they expected something to crawl out of there.

The comment made her seem like an amateur- she clearly didn't know the place, what it held, what it did. And what happened when she found out? Would Locke force her to stay down here as well, living some kind of double life like a spy? If they even lived to have to decide, that was.

No one answered her, and the only sound was the room giving itself a steady shake. They didn't dare move to any of the walls, only stood in the middle, frozen. Boone could just hear Hurley's opinion on the situation:

Dude, this is just like that one episode of Scooby-Doo!

Only this time, the monster wasn't some guy in a mask. This was real.

"This is like that one-"

Boone cut Callum off before he could finish.

"Don't start," he warned, irritated at the way people were able to read minds around here.

The hatch gave another familiar shake, and Boone knew this was what Shannon had to of felt like before...before...But she might've ran, he thought hopefully, ran like hell. Which probably made that thing madder. Just to think a monster like this could have feelings...it was absurb. All day, everyday since she died, Boone wondered about her death: if she yelled for help...for him. The worst part, though, was knowing she suffered.

Again the room rumbled like a breaking down elevator, they looked around again as the monster roared. That was when Boone first realized the had no idea what they were looking for. How ironic; all this time they had been fighting something they'd never seen. For all they knew, it could've been a pink unicorn.

Then suddenly, a few feet from them in the middle of the room, a black cloud of dust began circulating just inches above the floor. Rebecca was the first to step back, terrified and trembling, and the others were quick to follow. Just as quickly as it came the dust disapeared, and all seemed well again until the computer suddenly went array. White lines danced across the screen, cutting up the colored picture. Like before the computer beeped, and as they stared at it, mystified, Boone wondered why they'd never heard it before. The unfamiliar noise rang in a painful buzz in their ears, and it wasn't until the picture became disoritented that Boone rushed over to see what was wrong. No one questioned him, but he vaguely remembered Locke calling out his name as his hands searched the keyboard for some clue of what to do. His hands fell over the few letter keys the keyboard possessed, but something sharp pulled him back, scratching at his arm. He tried to pull away, hissing in pain, only to have his arms repeativly scratched into thick scars. Holding his arm where red lines were appearing against his pale skin, Boone frantically looked for whatever was attacking him.

None of them noticed the black cloud had stopped developing, now simply turning into clear dust.

"Boone?" Locke called, sounding distant and far away, though he was only a few feet from him.

Boone turned to reply that he was alright, when suddenly it felt like something grabbed him. Like fingers with extra-sharp nails. Still Boone didn't see anything, but his arms flared in pain, skin turning a burning red color. Clutching his arm in pain, Boone fell against the wall as the computer sputtered in sparks. Though invisible, Boone could've sworn a few times that he spotted the thing that was surely swarming around now- he could feel the wind from it- but the computer malfunctioned on its own, a few spare sparks sputtering from it before the picture went completly black.

Not again.

Rebecca looked scared out of her mind, but fear didn't stop Callum, who immediatly turned towards the back hallway. Locke caught his arm before he could get away.

"Where are you going?" Locke demanded.

Watching from where he was cowarding in pain in the corner, Boone had never seen Locke so angry.

"Hiding," Callum replied rather calmly to Locke, "I suggest you do the same."

But Locke only gripped his arm tighter.

"What are we hiding from?" Frustrated, Locke's anger came out in a booming voice that made Rebecca jumped. Boone concentrated hard on the conversation, trying to ignore the pain in his arm.

He expected Callum's eyes to grow wide with some explination, but instead they only grew impatient, darting around with a half-hearted reply.

"Life, death, the government?" Callum suggested, spitting out each word without much thought. "Hell if I know."

Leaving Locke with the reply, Callum wrestled out of his grip, but only for Rebecca to grab his arm next. He looked furious, but he stopped at the frightenening way her eyes were set on him.

"Take me with you," Rebecca had to whisper, so stiff in fear that her voice barely squeked out in the softest tone.

Callum's impacient manner softened tremendously at her quiet request, and- just to fill the silence- he easily dropped his hand from her hold. He looked like he didn't know what to say.

"Go with him," Locke instructed suddenly.

It took Boone a moment to realize Locke was speaking to him.

"What?" Boone said, confussed. Why was he being voted off?

A rumbling from nearby and a burning pain in his arm hinted at a suggestion.

"Go," Locke said, waving his hand towards the back of the hatch.

The monster gave another rumble, closer this time. It felt like he was in a really bad horror movie...a feeling he tended to get a lot on the island. Boone looked from Rebecca to the computer. He wasn't trying to chose, but he was trying to figure out what was going on. What did the monster want with the computer? How could it have a mind of its own? But then, a lot of things seemed to have a mind of its own on the island.

They just needed someone to control it.

"Locke!" Boone shouted suddenly, mind reeling with realization

Everything was coming together now. The two computers, right next to each other. They couldn't of just been built for psycological experiments. There weren't even any cameras. Who was watching it?

Part of the reason Boone went on with his theory was just for the sake of not having to answer that question. Turning to him, Locke somehow knew from the tone of Boone's voice not to protest. Rebecca was nearly whimpering, but Callum looked interested as well about what Boone had to say.

"We've been wrong from the beginning," Boone announced, thinking fast along with an incoming headace, "this computer-" he waved his hand towards the now-black screen, "it doesn't have anything to do with killing the monster." Locke's eyes grew narrow, and Boone drew a deep breath, preparing himself for the explination. Turning, he met Locke's gaze. "It's doing the exact opposite."

(space)

Slowly people began moving back to the beach, looking more frightened than they'd even been. More than when the Others took Charlie and Claire, more than when the people on the raft floated back towards shore, and more than even knowing about why they were back in the first place. Because this was on their land. Something had come to them, something was invading their home- or at least the closest thing they had to it. The beach was supposed to be their safety-zone, and Jack knew that was what everyone was thinking as they crept back into camp, clutching to each other's arms, too afraid to think to accuse. Except for one.

"I thought we were supposed to be safe here."

Jack held back a groan. Carefully he and Kate finished sitting Sawyer- who was looking more miserable than ever- back onto the ground, and turned to look at the man who had spoken up. He could've been mistaken for Sawyer himself, a trouble-maker, no doubt, always speaking up, ready for rebellion. His name was Mitchell. Only a few had the nerve to call him Mitch. Now, Mitchell was looking specifically at Jack. Jack could already feel what was coming for him.

"That's what you said, right?" Mitchell began easily.

But Jack knew from previous fight experiences that that's how it went. Easy at first, and then they really laid it on you. Jack didn't even try to cut him off. He knew he'd just be interrupted. Just as expected, Mitchell stepped up. Glances were exchanged, though Jack wasn't sure they were of concern for him. It was more like their own realization. Slowly Jack was beginning to feel betrayed. He wanted to steal a look to Kate to see how she was reacted...if she was just as disapointed.

"I thought-" Jack began wearily.

He found it harder than he thought to gain the energy to fight back. The island was drowning him with exhaust, taking too much from him, even if he didn't want to admit it. And whenever he thought of the possibility of another crash, all he could remember was finding that toothbrush on the ground, and the rough, burning hot, feeling of the wheel as he stopped its buzzing spin. How absurb was it that that was the second plane crash he had walked in on in his life? This year? It wasn't right...it wasn't human.

"You thought for yourself," Mitchell jabbed an accusing finger towards Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Kate lifting a hand towards his arm before second guessing herself. He took another step towards Jack, and Jack could meet his cold stare more easily now. As if it helped things. "Who was it that was in your mind when you decided to pack everyone up and head out?"

Jack forced himself not to answer- mentally or verbally. He couldn't admit that he made a mistake, not in front of everyone. As long as he kept it to himself, Jack would never have to admit that he failed as a leader. That his father had been right. The very thought made Jack want to drop to his knees and sink away. Instead he concentrated hard on Mitchell and what he was saying, attempting to regain the upper hand in this.

"What do you bet if we went back to that place right now, it'd still be standing?" Mitchell went on, without a touch of sympathy or regret. Like he was letting off long-held steam. "But out here-" he opened his arms wide to show the vastness of the beach, "in the open? Yeah that thing's going to find us! We've got no where to hide!" Throwing his arms down, Mitchell walked closer to Jack, decreasing the distance between them even more. "Tell me, Doctor, what was your gameplan out here? Hope and pray we wouldn't be someone's dinner? Because we sure as hell know that won't do us any good." He hardly gave a moment's pause before going to his next point. Jack could feel the eyes around him taking in every ounce of what was being said, breaking it down and taking out the truth. And the truth was, most of it was true. As much as he hated to admit it, Jack's only gameplan was to keep everyone alive. Was that so wrong? "Speaking of our good 'ole friend, you're wanting to tell me that you've seen this thing eat someone twice and you never even saw what it was? You couldn't stop it?"

Jack's heart stopped for a beat. He'd never even thought of the fact that he'd never actually seen the monster- which was true- but to have him accused of not helping? Right then and there Jack felt like lashing out a story of seeing Alex die, the way he'd clutched onto her hand for so long until she finally dropped into the dark pit underneath. The way for a few feet he could hear her screams. And the plane...

"You have no idea," Jack began as the pictures his mind worked so determindly to push back came back to life, playing like a black and white horror film. Shutting his eyes tightly, Jack tried to force the mental picture into words, not a story in his head. That just made him feel crazier. It'd taken him nearly days just to wrap his mind around the idea of a real-life monster. Voice shaking madly at the thought, Jack wasn't able to continue.

"Oh, I have no idea?" Mitchell gave out an incredulous laugh. "I have no idea what it's like to sink myself into a depression so low, that I can't even function? Three out of twenty years of my brother's life was spent in a depression so deep that if he didn't go a day without some kind of meds or therapy-" like Jack before, Mitchell trailed off, a wacky grin of disbelief plastered across his face, like that of a mask or clown. "You want to know why my brother only lived to twenty?" Throughout his outburst, Mitchell had somehow made it to an inch in front of Jack without Jack himself even noticing. Jack didn't answer, daring to only give the slightest shake of his head. Leaning close, reminding Jack very much of Sawyer, Mitchell said low and coldly: "Thought so."

A long, tense, moment of silence passed between them as Jack was left to dwell on this thought. These accusations were supposed to bring up feelings of guilt in Jack, a guilt so immensely impossible to handle that Jack would give up, admit his failure. But he didn't. Instead Jack felt a desperate need to defend himself, to tell stories, to make these people see that it wasn't easy handling the images and memories that haunted his mind daily. He desperatly tried to think of a good argument, something that would make a difference, all while hoping the silence would buy him time. His plan faltered.

"There were so many things you didn't think of," Mitchell went on. If he was still bothered by telling the story of his brother, he didn't show it. One day, Jack hoped he could become that graceful with dealing with grief. Just one comment and be done with it. No need to dwell or cry, just acknowledge that something happened so they'd get the memories they deserved. The good ones. "What about Claire? The baby?" As if being filmed on camera, the whole scene shifted so that all eyes were on Claire, who was holding the baby, frightened. But Jack knew there was something deeper than fear there. She was listening. And she wasn't disagreeing. Neither was Charlie. They didn't even offer glances of sympathy. "And Sun?" Mitchell crossed over to where Sun was standing alone, a vacant space in the sand next to her as though it was made for Jin, were he to suddenly return. Jack could just see him, smiling, ready to offer fish or another catch of the day, happy to have his wife there with him. "She lost her husband, and it's like no one even gives a damn!"

Unlike Charlie and Claire, Sun blushed a little at being called upon, but like Charlie and Claire, she didn't protest. Surely they weren't agreeing with this guy? Jack had sacrificed a lot for these people...he thought they appreciated them! But now they eyed him scornfully, and Jack swallowed just to give himself a little hope.

"You've made so many mistakes that no one seems to care about, when they could've been a matter of life and death!" Mitchell continued. He didn't seem ready to give up yet. "All these kidnappings, deaths. Do you expect us to just sit around and wait for you to recover every time? You can't be a leader if you're sitting around all day, feeling sorry for yourself!" Jack wanted to comment that he was just thinking this yesterday, but before he got the chance he was overrun again. "It's like just because your world's completly stopped, ours can't move forward...and something's telling me the island doesn't agree with that philosophy." Now Mitchell looked around the other castaways, excitment dancing in his eyes. "Come on, tell me there's something you don't find wrong there!"

It was quiet, but only for a moment when, surprisingly, Charlie, was the first to speak up.

"There was that hatch," he pointed out, a little nervous at first but steadily regaining confidence. However, he never met Jack's eyes, instead looking away to the ground as he spoke. "It was this big deal, and then at one point...it stopped. How do we know it's not dangerous?"

Talk to Locke about that, Jack heard himself say in his mind, but forced himself to keep quiet. If that got out, then they'd lose trust in Locke as well. And if they did that, then Locke's feelings towards them may change...and God only knew what that hatch actually did.

Behind him, Jack could feel Kate and Sawyer wondering why he wasn't defending himself. Deep down, part of Jack was actually curious about what everyone had to say. But only a small part. He didn't want to make himself appear as a failure and certainly didn't want to encourage it.

"I have nothing to do with that," Jack said, at last, defending himself honestly. "Look, I've done a helluva lot for you guys, and if you can't see that-"

"Like what?" Mitchell cut in harshly. The crowd around him looked even more interested, if possible. They were listening enthusiastically, scanning each statement said for a new accusation they could use. Jack was aware of crowds like these, but he never thought he'd be the center of one.

"For one, he's kept you alive."

Everyone, including Jack, turned at Kate's defense. Jack never found himself more grateful, and found himself letting her continue on. Arms crossed, she stepped forward, smiling a little, the kind of smile that came with a distant memory.

"He's been your doctor, your friend," she went on, "but he's only human. You can't blame him for every mistake he makes when you've done nothing to help yourself."

Jack realized a moment to late that he was smiling as well, like an idiot, happily taking in Kate's words and appreciating every one of them.

"And like always he has his girlfriend to stick up for him." Jack was sure he wasn't the only one who groaned slightly at Mitchell's voice. "How does that feel, to be the one to pick up his pieces, when all he does for you is order you around, rid you of indepence?"

Kate's eyes grew dark, the memory fading into something much more colder. A nerve had been touched, Jack knew, and Kate wouldn't take that very well.

"If I want independence," Kate began sternly, glaring at Mitchell with a cold, hard, stare Jack didn't even know Kate possessed, "I'll get it."

A hush of approval suddenly turned against Mitchell's rebellion. Jack felt like grinning. They had friends here, he should've known better than to think they'd turn against them so easily.

"But what gives him the right to talk to you like he did before?" Mitchell exclaimed. "Tell you where to go and where not to?"

Kate tried to ease her stare, clearly determined not to give herself away. During this Jack did his best to try and find a way out of this, an escape route so that they could flee the scene, hide somewhere and talk this out between the two of them.

"He was right, wasn't he?" Kate pointed out with a hint of pride.

Mitchell ignored her point.

"Come to think of it," he said, going along with it as though he was just coming up with something new, when Jack detected he'd spent nights sitting up, preparing this speach, just waiting for the perfect moment to let it all out. And the convenience of the situation came almost too easily. Mitchell turned back to Jack. "You've been so obsessed with your relationship with her that you've forgotten what's important for us all: survival. We can't do that alone, and we looked to you as leader." He gave Jack one last, hard, stare. Though Jack knew what was coming and dreaded it, hated it, part of him was happy to see at least the accusations stop. They came in such an intense wave that Jack still wasn't sure how he was supposed to fight back. "Maybe we were wrong."

For a long time it was quiet. No one dared to say anything, most of them didn't even dare to look at Jack. They looked torn in two, like they didn't know who to believe, which way to go. Finally it was Kate to speak up again, but what she said couldn't of been planned. He would've almost rather her not say anything. Already he was more humiliated then he thought he'd ever been, it was like each case had to top himself. But yet Kate said it, quietly, but everyone heard:

"He was just looking out for the baby."

A short pause followed as everyone stared at her, confussed. Sawyer included.

"What, like Aaron?" At his puzzled voice, somehow it slipped Jack's mind that Sawyer didn't know about the baby.

Slowly Kate shook her head looking trapped, torn. She wasn't looking at anyone in particular, not really even the group as a whole. Jack wondered if he should stop her before she said it, the thing that would change their lives forever. Maybe even in just one moment. But she didn't look at him, not even one glance of desperation for help.

"I'm pregnant."

Her voice was so soft, almost as if she was horrified by the statement. And she was, Jack knew. Kate had to be scared to death. He must've looked shocked at her confession, because a few eyes around them fell on Jack, wondering if even he knew. Jack swallowed, offering no explination. Sawyer watched them incredulously, mouth left hanging agape in complete disbelief.

Then they started to leave. It was like they were parting for a funeral: sad, slow walks away, steps shuffling by in a passing rythm that never seemed to speed up. As the crowd dispersed Jack and Kate tried to ignore the looks thrown at them, the eyes that talked with the emotion they bore. They heard Hurley saying something to Sawyer about going, but only caught a glimpse of his eyes as Hurley looked over Sawyer's shoulder as he helped him hobble away. A single looked of sympathy. Or was it? Jack dared to take a moment to look around, to see if there was possibly anyone left who did care, who did realize that this wasn't just some great plan of theirs. But the last person left standing was Sayid who, for some reason, had drifted to the edge of the crowd from his search. Briefly Jack met eyes with him, and though in the back of his mind he wondered what brought him back, he knew that Sayid had heard everything. A small spark of hope egnited within him when he lingered for a moment, but like everyone else Sayid turned, and walked away.

Jack had never felt so miserable, so embarrased. Because what they were receiving from everyone else were cold looks of disapointment. Like they'd failed them. There were no congradulations, no condolonces whatsover. Everyone just simply left, leaving Jack and Kate to stand there, taking in the aftermath the helpless fight. It didn't matter who was on their side before. As they stood there, moving gradually like magnets towards each other's arms, they knew friendships before were useless. Now they were alone, abandoned harshly, coldly, unsympathetically, and worse of all, without a single second thought.

(space)

"We were wrong," Boone said again. Nearby walls creeked like a haunted house, and Rebecca was trembling madly, turning almost a ghostly white. "We were...conned." Locke didn't protest, but he didn't look convinced either. "Think about it, how many people have died since we started using it?" He pointed to the computer. "Nothing's happened to stop it. We thought it controlled it, but you think if it did, we could stop it somehow." Boone shook his head in disbelief. "Why hasn't anything stopped?"

Rebecca shaking beside him, Locke took in what Bonoe was saying. Callum looked horrified, and made one final attempt to escape before Locke grabbed his arm roughly, jerking him back around.

"Who are you?" Locke demanded.

Boone was slightly surprised to find himself relieved at the fact that Locke believed him, like he really accomplished something with it. Though Callum still was clearly terrified, it didn't seem to be because of Locke.

"I'm just as innocent as you," Callum replied, voice vacant and betrayed, "sorry, Mate, I'm not the bad guy."

With that he tore away, fleeing to hide. Rebecca immediatly followed him without thought, and Locke turned to Boone. Boone thought he'd say something about the realization, though he didn't know what he expected. An apology, maybe? But really, this was still Boone's fault.

"Go with her," Locke instructed.

It was the last thing he expected him to say.

"What?" Boone shook his head. "No, this is my-"

"Go!" Locke bellowed, a vain in his neck throbbing at the effort. Feeling like an ashamed child, Boone didn't object again, and slipped away to the back hall.

Escaping to the back hall, Boone tried not to notice the fact that the ground felt like it was rumbling beneath his feet. His theory was still heavy on his mind, and anger rushed through him as he reached the doors to the individual rooms. He did feel betrayed. Like the island was using him. Throwing open the nearest door, Boone found Rebecca cowarding in the back corner of the pantry. With the floresent light flickering with every small rumble, Rebecca held onto the shelves, despite the food they held. At seeing her shaky form, almost sick with fear, Boone approached her carefully, letting the thoughts of betrayel momentarily slip away. She turned as he entered, and the way her cheeks were streaked with tears startled him, because emotion like this was something never seen down here. It was always anger. Anger over something someone did or didn't do, anger for everything.

"Sawyer brought me here once," Rebecca admited quietly, sniffling to sieze her tears, "please, don't..."

She trailed off, but Boone thought that it was best to say anyway:

"It's fine," he searched his memory for a time when Sawyer would be down here. Then he remembered, it was the first time they came across Callum, or one of the first...he thought. Or maybe it was just something he heard.

The rumbling was growing violently shaky below them, and through the closed door, Boone couldn't hear Locke. Was he okay? Did he follow him to possible safety?

"John?" Boone called tentivly through the door, quickly growing quiet in some hopes of hearing an answer.

In the corner Rebecca shivered, looking sickly pale as she watched him. Wrapping her arms tightly around her, Rebecca looked like she was suffocating. Had Boone turned around to see this, her clear claustrophobia would've been obvious to him. Almost fiercly she trembled, try to keep her attention focused on the door, trying to steady her dizyness.

"Boone," she tried desperatly over the echoy effect of the world that seemed to be caving into her.

He ignored her, continuing to pound on the door.

"Boone!" She exclaimed, gasping as she felt herself choke on her breath, falling back, grasping the wall for support.

This time he turned, racing towards her and catching her before she sank through the ground. Slowly they sat down together, and Boone took her arm.

"You okay?" He asked, sounding as though it wasn't that important. Truthfully he wasn't completly unsympathetic, but Locke was still out there...

But looking at Rebecca's pale face, clutching her shivering hand, Boone was suddenly hit with a flashback of Shannon's island asthma attack. It had gotten so bad...so bad...Sayid even tortured Sawyer for her. He wondered if maybe even back then Sayid had his eye on her. Boone couldn't remember anything specifically that would put truth to his thought, but Sayid did care enough to torture someone...though he made note to make sure not to mention the incident to Rebecca. Did she even know?

Shaking the cold, blue, uneven image of Shannon away, Boone came back to reality just in time to notice Rebecca shaking her head 'no'. Was it an asthma attack? If so, it was almost spooky...like the past was replaying itself, haunting him. Secretly Boone had kept Shannon's inhalers, but he didn't want to use them. As discusting as it sounded, somehow it made him feel close to her. The inhalers were something that always connected them, in its odd way.

"You'll be fine," Boone said assuringly, giving her arm a soothing squeeze, "we'll be okay."

At his words the room gave a jolt, sending Boone crashing into the wall next to her. Looking around frantically, Boone's mind had wrapped itself in worry for Locke, but in the back of his mind, he was still demanding to know where the hell Sayid was.

(space)

Locke spun around, eyes wide in horror as the hatch shook itself to a dead crumble of odds and ends on the floor. Once again the computer was malfunctioning, and it gave another puzzling beep. As if reminding them it was still there. He felt like yelling at it, cursing at it, if Boone's theory had any truth to it. Instead, trying to keep himself together, Locke darted towards the computer, feeling as though he were fighting a strong gust of wind. The screen, once plain black, now blinked at him in white and black transitions of dark and light. A bulb overhead was twitching to a complete blackout, and he could've sworn he heard the forever-leaking pipe finally burst. He tried at first to calmly find some kind of direction or instruction to the keys, find some kind of command that would work, make it stop, but nothing was successful. Maybe Boone was right. It was all a hoax.

Slamming his fist furiously into the computer's screen, Locke ignored the blood that trickled down his knucles following. His mind was spinning, filled with so many ready accusations that he didn't know where to start. The previous life, maybe? The fact that they crashed here in the first place? Crashing here had given him the power to walk again, and though he took pride in that, he was finding it hard to find something to have faith in now.

"What do you want from us?" Locke shouted at the blinking computer. Of course, it didn't reply. He slammed his injured fist against the keyboard, nothing responding to his fury. "Why is it...what are you trying to do? We've had faith all along that we were doing the right thing! Why is it turning against us? What did we do to deserve this!" A spinning gust of wind behind him answered, but Locke stayed put. "Do you want to know why I lost faith? Because I could never understand something that would rip someone apart but act as something completly different! Something that seems...good...in this- hell!" It didn't accur to him at the moment that he was yelling at a screen, but he felt it necessary. "What did they do to deserve this? Their lives are ruined, destroyed by this...monster." Pausing a moment to pant for breath, Locke hoped he was making sense. Because it sure as hell made sense in his head. "If we did something wrong, fine! Punish us! Punish me!" Locke blinked in protest as tears stung at his eyes as he remembered all of the ones who were lost...Michael, Walt, Jin, Alex...Danielle had searched sixteen years for her daughter and actually found her! Was actually reunited! And then...then it was all just gone, without a second thought. "What did she do? We're innocent people!" But were they really? It was a thought that haunted Locke all the time. He'd heard some stories of other's faults, their regrets. Were they being punished? Did they have reason to be? No...he decided it right then and there. They didn't. Not like this. "Just, please, leave us alone!" He felt suddenly exhausted, as if his outburst were taking a psysical toll on him. Though he had more to say, Locke couldn't muster the energy to fight. He didn't want to beg for mercy...but it was almost like that was all they had left. When he spoke again, concluding his speach, Locke really spoke, in a less-frantic, more defeated way: "Leave us alone."

He rested his head against his arm, memories of many simular outburst coming back in waves that exhausted him anymore. Everything seemed to calm down, but still Locke didn't feel completly relieved. Sliding down to the floor, he tried not to think about how storms usually got calm before the worst was over.

(space)

Once Rebecca calmed down, Boone continued to bang on the door. Rebecca watched him helplessly, knowing it would do him no good. But she knew he was angry...she was as well. Why had she ran off like that? Now she could hardly remember what her fight with Sawyer was about. She was beating herself up, trying to remember everything. To savor it. But the last thing she remembered was cursing at him and storming off.

"Boone!" She called suddenly, and he turned around relucantly. Rebecca pointed to him. "Your arm."

Boone looked down. Though he hadn't, Rebecca had noticed that the thick, mysterious, red cuts etched into Boone's arm were bleeding again. Impaciently Boone wiped away the blood, but when it continued to bleed anyway, he let out a cry of frustration and grabbed his arm, slamming himself against a nearby wall. Gasping for breath he turned to her, looking desperate.

"Why can't something turn out the way I want it to?" He asked her helplessly.

Boone did, in fact, looked desperate for answers, some kind of explination. Rebecca didn't know what the hell was going on down here, or what he was talking about, but still she replied:

"I don't know."

An honest moment of silence past between them, and Boone finally seemed to calm down. Once again he set down next to her, picking at the cuts on his arms.

"You should stop the bleeding," Rebecca advised, touching his arm carefully.

"It's fine."

He sounded miserable, and more than ever Rebecca found herself wanting her own answers. She looked around the pantry, wondering if the bags of chips and cartons of pudding would still be empty from where she and Sawyer helped themselves to some stranger's stash of food. Back then she didn't know where she was, or why there was such a place on the island, but it didn't seem to matter. Now it felt like she needed to know, like one last wish granted. Not that her wishes were ever granted. Like Boone, her constant let downs left her wondering why something couldn't go the way she wanted it to, for once.

"It's quiet," Rebecca observed, noting the rumbling from underground had stopped. "What do you think was going to happen?"

Boone shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. Dropping his hands he took a moment to look around the room, and stopped when he noticed something was off. A shelf had moved itself, possibly from all the rumbling, but instead of a wall behind it, there was some kind of steal-like door. There was no handle, but Boone was certain that if the shelf was moved completly out of the way that there would be some kind of security box.

"Where'd you say Callum went?" Boone asked, lifting himself up off the floor.

"I didn't," Rebecca replied uncertainly, watching him, "but wherever it was he pushed me out of the way to get there."

Suddenly Boone looked excited, and crossed the room to the misplaced shelf and, with little difficulty, pushed it completly out of the way. Rebecca stood up at the door she hadn't realized was there, and noticed some kind of control pannel beside it.

"He did say something though," she remembered suddenly, "numbers."

Boone turned to her hopefully.

"What were they?"

"047," Rebecca recited, surprised she remembered them so well.

Anticipation filled the room as Boone examined the control pannel, and Rebecca moved closer to him. But just when they thought that they were going to possibly be safe again- or at least that's what Rebecca hoped- the hatch gave another shaky jolt. Boone looked immediatly to the door, as if expecting Locke to fly into the room. He didn't. Studying Boone's expression, she caught him as his face fell, and another hesitant moment passed before he went back to the control pannel. Though he didn't know what he was doing, Boone punched in the numbers anyway, and the door gave a creaking sound, as if it hadn't been opened for a long time, and slid open a few inches. Catching the door, Boone used all his strength to push the door all the way open, revealing some type of-

"A panic room," Rebecca said for him, peering into the room.

Bare walls and shelves stocked with medical aid and emergancy packs of food gave word to her theory. Boone was the first to step into the room, making his way to a red box in the corner. It was packed with flashlights and batteries. Trying one out, he turned back towards her, looking triumphant. Rebecca, on the other hand, felt betrayed.

"This has been here all this time," she realized, feeling sick again.

It was hard to accept. For months they had been struggling for survival, for food, for shelter, and here all this was...like it was just waiting for them. The way all the supplies were laid out in a perfectably understandable way was almost mocking their struggle. In the back of her mind, Rebecca wondered if this would be enough for...how many more did they have left? Twenty-three, maybe?

Once again the hatch shook, as if reminding them of where they stood. But only the outside of them room was effected. Boone peered outside the door.

"Maybe you should close it," he suggested, nodding towards the door.

She looked behind her briefly, taken aback by Boone's sudden change of heart.

"What about Locke?" She asked, puzzled.

Boone gave a defeated shrug, sighing.

"I don't know anymore," he replied truthfully.

He was already fingering the keys of a smaller, laptop-sized computer that sat at a desk; the map of the island that she had noticed was on the bigger one was on the screen. Boone stared at it for a long time before pushing more buttons that turned the computer off. In reply the lights in the room flickered, which Rebecca found odd because Panic Rooms were supposed to be expertly equiped. This looked almost like a simple hidden closet.

"Who built all of this?" She wondered outloud, making her way to the medical supplies on the shelf.

"It doesn't matter," Boone replied. He glanced towards the door.

She looked up at him in disbelief.

"Of course it matters!" She exclaimed. "We've been stranded on this island for months and this stuff is just...laying here! On a deserted island!"

"Then I'd say it wouldn't be too deserted then," Boone snapped, irritable.

Backing off, Rebecca decided to keep to herself, wondering how long they would have to be in here. Didn't Boone say something before about Sayid coming? It hit her suddenly that if the monster was here, then something might've happened outside as well...possibly something worse. What if Sawyer wasn't even alive? She bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering, swearing to herself she'd never argue with anyone again. Just once she prayed that something could turn out like she wanted it to.

(space)

Sayid had slipped back into the jungle following the attack on Jack. At the moment he didn't even want to have an opinion on the subject. It was in his nature to push things back, to focus on what was important and not his own personal feelings. It's what helped him get through with things. But even so, he had to feel sympathetic at Sawyer's worry for Rebecca...he knew what it was like to lose someone and he didn't want to wish that on another, even someone who wasn't one of his favorite persons. So that was why he was back in the jungle now, risking his life to try to find this woman he hardly knew.

But his options of paths were cutting short, and there was only one left before he was forced to go deeper into the jungle, somewhere he was sure Rebecca wouldn't want to go. Because he didn't know her to well, Sayid found himself thinking of Shannon whenever he needed advice, and he knew Shannon would never go that far into then jungle.

Then again, wasn't that exactly what happened? Sayid had to keep himself from stopping at the thought, forcing himself to go on. He looked for any signs of a trail, but the thought wouldn't escape him. If only he had been there with her, instead of hiding down in the hatch. Guarding that computer never did them any good anyway. People still died, she still died...

The other night Sayid had a dream, speaking of the hatch. He was down there, alone, watching the map carefully on the computer. But it was different than usual. The names had changed, it wasn't right: Michael Loyd, Walt Loyd, Alex Rousseau, Shannon Rutherford...it accured to him in the dream that he didn't know her last name, and only after a moment did he realize that all of these people weren't supposed to be on the list. All these people were dead. For a long, hard, moment he stared at the list, as if it were some kind of cruel joke. But it never disapeared or corrected itself.

He couldn't go back to sleep after that dream. Never did he dream about his previous life, or anything off-island. It was always the hatch, the beach, the caves. The jungle. It was always her.

Which was why he stopped when he saw that he had reached the hatch. He hadn't even had the intention of going there, how he made it there was beyond him. It made him so curious that he gripped the gun he had with him, holding it close as he approached the recently found emergancy exit of the hatch...which was swinging wide open. Cautiously he stepped forward, gripping the gun protectivly. He peered into the long hallway, finding that not even the normal exit lights were on. All was deathly quiet. He took a step into the hatch, remembering the discovery that the door could only open from the inside and that it never stayed open. But now it was just waiting for him to come along, and Sayid had the suspicious feeling that he was being led into a trap. That was when Callum came rushing through the halls, running like he was on fire. Using quick reflexes, Sayid was able to catch him just before he escaped, and pinned him against the wall. Though he knew it wasn't necessary, he aimed the gun at Callum's head, if not only from instinct.

"What happened?" Sayid demanded. Callum was shaking against Sayid's hold. Growing impacient, Sayid pressed the tip of the gun to Callum's head, and demanded more forcefully: "What happened?"

"I don't know!" Callum squeaked, sounding like a frightened mouse. "It came and...I don't know! I've got to get out of here!"

He fought against Sayid's restraints, but Sayid found himself using the strength he'd forgotten he possessed to hold him back. It was as if he were back in war, torturing someone for answers to someone else's questions.

"Where will you go?" Sayid inquired, surprising himself with the question, when he had a million more on his mind.

He didn't know why he was suddenly so worried about Boone at the moment. Sayid didn't loathe him, though the boy was in the way of what could've been a closer relationship between him and Shannon. But Sayid knew Shannon loved Boone, if not as a boyfriend than as a family member, and Sayid respected that. In an odd way he felt like he had to protect Boone now, for her.

"Away from here," Callum answered in a terryfied voice, hair standing up straight on his head like a kid afraid of a haunted house. It was then that Sayid let him go, and Callum gasped for breath as he scanned the jungle. Sayid waited for him to say something, growing impacient again before Callum turned back to him. "I haven't been out here in years."

So he was afraid of the place. And why shouldn't he have been? With all that came with the hatch, the equipment, the maps, the philosophy. Their stories.

"She's in there," Callum said suddenly. Sayid brought his attention back to him. "The girl you're looking for."

He didn't wait around for explination. An amazing amount of relief flowing through him, Sayid took off into the hatch, ignoring the cealed-shut doors that would've been the perfect hiding place for anyone as terrified as Callum. Instead he headed straight for the main room, putting his gun away when he found Locke on the floor, collasped against the wall beside the huge computer screen. The man looked exhausted, to say the least; defeated. His eyes were red from crying, but Sayid didn't take it to heart at the moment.

"Where's Rebecca?" He demanded.

Locke looked up at him slowly, as though he were in a daze. His eyes looked horrificly distant, haunted.

"In one of the back rooms," he said at last, struggling to lift himself off the floor, "Boone went with her. I...I'm sorry...I had to stay."

"It's alright," Sayid assured him, though he didn't know what he was talking about. "Which room?"

"I don't know," Locke said after a moment's pause of thought, sounding frustrated with himself.

Sayid stood, already turning to hurry back to the hall. He heard Locke call after him as he rushed away, but ignored him, throwing open every door without giving a second look. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he didn't let the thought bother him. At last he heard some yelling, sounding more faraway than it should've been. The echoes of the shouts led him to the pantry, a place he hadn't gone to more than once or twice. He didn't care much for eating the food, knowing how everyone else was struggling to hunt and fish. Handing out the food would risk revealing the hatch, which would most certainly cause a scare, a panic. But would it be worse than how scared they already were? The way everyone ganged up on Jack at the beach confirmed their fear, emotions so intense that they'd go against the man who had every intention of saving them all. But even Jack was beginning to get a taste of how powerless he actually was. In the end, all he could do was protect them.

Throwing open the pantry door, Sayid stepped in, taken aback when the place was empty. He looked around cautiously, reaching for a gun when he saw no one was in the room. Then suddenly the back wall- which was, in fact, no longer a back wall but a door- slid open, and Rebecca tumbled out. Hair in a mess, pale, and trembling, Rebecca nearly fell into Sayid's arms when he reached out to help her. He glanced at the door suspiciously, but Rebecca didn't offer him any explination. She looked traumatized, much like Locke, and when he held onto her arms to support her trembling weight, he noticed that there were fading rope burns around her wrist. Sawyer would have a heart attack. He'd blame himself, no doubt(as they all did), though his wounded ankle had kept him from looking for her. But maybe that was for the best now. Maybe, somehow, Sawyer would just accept that things were okay again. For the moment, at least. Because living by the moment was all it seemed they were able to do. It was how they kept time, which hardly mattered on the island.

"Are you all right?" Sayid asked her, examining her tear-streaked face and frightened eyes, much like Callum and Locke's.

She nodded frantically, making it even more obvious that she was lying.

"Boone's in there," she said, pointing towards the room that formed out of the back wall, "it was cold. He...he's injured."

At the word 'injured' Sayid started for the room, stepping in carefully as to not startle Boone. His hard expression softened when he saw that Boone, if possible, looked more traumatized than the rest. He was completly still, staring blankly at the floor with some kind of emergancy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Sayid pushed away questions about the newly found room, catching a glimpse of Boone's arm as the blanket slid from him the slightest. It was red, almost raw with scars and blood. He didn't say anything but approached Boone carefully, still not wanting to startle him. He appeared very simular to how Jack and Kate did just days ago, and Sayid could only hope that Boone hadn't had a simular experience. But if he did, Sayid imagined he'd be in silence for a long time, so it surprised him when Boone spoke up right away, very aware of his presence:

"Is Locke alive?"

He'd never heard Boone sound so lost. He didn't even ask if Locke was okay, just if he was alive. As though he expected the worse. In the back of his mind, Sayid began trying to piece together what happened here today.

"Yes," Sayid said at last, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

Boone offered no sign of relief. For all Sayid knew, that wasn't even what he wanted to hear.

"We should get you to Jack," Sayid announced, remembering Boone's arm, "both of you."

He glanced back at Rebecca, who was surprisingly still there. Sayid had half-expected her to flee like Callum, but he was glad she did stay. If she was as emotionally traumatized as she looked, she had no buisness being in the jungle alone. Reaching down to help Boone up, Sayid received no response. Sayid studied him, deciding on what else he could say. But just when he was about to offer further reassuring, Boone reached up with his good hand, letting Sayid pull him off the ground. Still he decided not to ask about the room, and was about to lead them out when Boone spoke up again:

"Are we coming back?"

Boone didn't sound like himself at all, speaking with a dead voice and with dead-looking eyes searching Sayid's, waiting for his answer. Somehow, Sayid found himself wondering how Shannon would've reacted to all this. Would she have been worried sick about her missing step-brother, or would she have enjoyed his absence, not even noticing he was gone? But in the last few days of her short life, Sayid remembered, Shannon had been very suspicious of where Boone went everyday. It was unfair to accuse her of being unsympathetic.

"I don't know," Sayid replied, because it was the only answer he could think to say, the only one that gave the slightest bit of truth.

With Callum wanting to run away and Locke and Boone this troubled, he imagined it'd be difficult to come back. Even Locke looked defeated of the place, crumbled to a smaller form of himself, like he had lost all meaning. At last Sayid forced these thoughts away, and ushered the two out. Callum was out of sight, and when they looked back, Locke couldn't be found as well, but his priority was getting them both back to the beach.

(space)

When they hit the sand Sawyer was already waiting for them, as if he'd gotten some kind of sign ahead of time that they were coming. Jack was no where nearby, and Sawyer had been sitting alone, looking miserable as he rested his ankle, laying on a battered airplane recliner. Rebecca ran to him, deserting Sayid and Boone, who mutually walked at the same pace, seeming in no rush to come home. Maybe it was because to them, this was never truly home. Or at least to Boone. He rarely spent time here, on the beach, though he planned to now. The sun was as painful as always after coming out of the dark hatch, but Boone was able to ignore it, mind elsewhere as Sayid ran off to find Jack. He watched from afar as Rebecca ran to Sawyer, throwing her arms around him like a happy ending to a romantic movie. Boone didn't dare to look around, knowing he wouldn't be so lucky. Part of him wondered if anyone even cared about him anymore. The few times he did come back people looked at him as though he were a stranger, dangerous to them all. And after his discovery about the hatch, he felt like he was just that. Dangerous. Like an infected bug, a virus.

Down the beach, Rebecca and Sawyer embraced, lingering there for a moment as Rebecca sobbed silently into his shoulder, thankful more than ever to finally be back.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, coughing a little at the effort.

"We've got worse things to be sorry about," Sawyer mumbled into her mess of blonde hair, which entangled slightly with his as they pulled apart. "You missed the fun."

He tried to sound as comedic as possible, just trying to be relieved that she was okay and not lying dead in a stream somewhere. The thought made him feel more like a parent whose child had been out past curfew than a boyfriend, and Sawyer let out a snort.

"Yeah?" Rebecca said, managing a small smile through her tears.

"Had us a little pow-wow for Jack," Sawyer replied, attempting to sound pleased with it, though in reality he actually felt guilty. Deep down he knew none of this was possibly Jack's fault. "Luckily somethin' broke it up."

She watched him, interested, though he knew she was just relieved to be back with him, as vice versa. Rebecca was never the one to care much for island gossip, hell, the first time they met she hadn't even know who Kate was.

"Kate's pregnant," he informed her with a smirk.

Her eyes widened, and Sawyer had to laugh.

"Told ya you missed the fun."

For a moment everything seemed at ease, but Rebecca was clearly trying to mentally distance herself, looking distracted as Sawyer noticed fading red rings wrapped around the skin of her wrist. Grabbing her hand, Sawyer forced her attention to him.

"What the hell happened?" He demanded, looking her in the eye.

She stared back, not answering. Sawyer looked around, vaguely remembering that someone had been with her when Rebecca came back. Sure enough, Boone was still lingering by the jungle's edge, looking like a lost puppy. Dropping her wrist Sawyer stormed towards him, shoving Boone back to get his attention.

"What the hell did you do?" Sawyer shouted, drawing attention from a few people nearby.

"I didn't do anything!" Boone insisted defensivly, looking angry at Sawyer for disturbing his peace. "Why don't you just ask her what happened?"

Sawyer stopped, not because of what Boone said, but the fact that he said it. It was honestly the first time he'd heard the boy speak in months. Somehow, Sawyer led himself to believe that he didn't have a voice to defend himself. Aware that everyone was watching him, waiting for him to reply, Sawyer tried to think of a decent excuse.

"It wasn't his fault."

Everyone turned to the second unfamiliar person, the other one they hardly saw anymore, hardly knew of anymore. Locke. Sawyer was surprised he even remembered the man's name. Then again, who could forget a name like John Locke?

"None of this has ever been his fault," Locke went on, seeming to forget that no one would know what he was talking about. He was looking directly at Boone as he spoke, who looked just as surprised as everyone else that Locke was standing up for him. But he was clearly grateful.

Like everyone else, Sawyer didn't know what to think. Neither looked particularly guilty, but he didn't want to think about yet another kidnapper being on the loose. He stared at Locke for the longest moment before finally turning away, though he didn't know what he was going to do next.

(space)

If there was one thing Jack had learned on this island was the art of distancing yourself: mentally or phsyically taking yourself away. Hiding. And if the humilation from the latest accusations of him wasn't enough to chase him away, the looks of disapointment were. He'd been fooling himself, thinking someone would be happy for them. Thinking that someone would understand how hard this would be for them, starting with the fact that Kate was a fugitive. Even if they were on the island for decades, Kate would never let that go. Deep down it would always be within her, wallowing to the death of itself in a pit, Kate herself depending on the theory of it someday just rotting away.

But even the need to distance themselves after the lashing out, like they had been psyically tortured and not just accused of the wildest things that everyone seemed to agree on, couldn't wash away the fact that they were out of water. Assuming he wouldn't be disctracted, Jack planned to slip away, taking the quickest path to the cave and dashing back before anyone would notice he was gone. This time, he decided, he would only get water for the two of them. It was a pity act of rebellion, but Jack wanted to somehow get back at them all, the ones who'd turn away, without making a complete fool of himself. Again. But alas, he knew that eventually he would have to go back for everyone else as well. Rebellion wasn't excatly worth risking dozens of dehydrated castaways.

Surpringly enough, he was distracted. Jack noticed at the last minute that Sayid was approaching him. He stiffened for a minute, expecting everything from a punch to a lecture. For some reason, Jack found himself caring more about what people like Sawyer and Sayid thought than others. Maybe it was because they were closer as friends, and if it ever came to it, they could be surpringly dependable. Sayid stopped a foot in front of him, as if wanting to give him space. A little relieved that this apparently wouldn't lead to a fight, Jack relaxed a little.

"Hey," he said at last, when neither of them spoke up.

Sayid nodded in return. A moment of awkward silence passed until Sayid finally spoke up again.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said sincerly.

Jack blinked. Part of him felt relieved that someone was bothering to aproach him, but part of him was a little puzzled.

"I should've stepped up," Sayid explained, "none of what he said was true."

Not able to help but to smile a little, Jack looked down, blushing slightly.

"Thanks," he said gratefuly, "but you didn't have-"

"It's fine," Sayid insisted, not letting a moment pass before he added: "I was hoping you could take a look at Boone's arm."

The subject change came so quickly that Jack felt slightly used. Stuttering, Jack shook his head with his reply.

"Sure," he said. What else was he going to say? He was the doctor, and a voice inside Jack's head reminded him that Boone wasn't in the crowd earlier. Speaking of which, where had he been?

Not that Jack wouldn't of tended to someone who had been there.

"What happened?" Jack asked, concerned.

"It's scratched," Sayid answered, adding: "badly."

Jack shrugged.

"Sure," he agree again, "I'll look at it."

He waited for Sayid to say something else, expecting him to in his mind. When he didn't, didn't mention a thing about Kate being pregnant or offer any sympathy, Jack turned away, to where Locke and Boone were standing(though not talking) nearby, trying not to let it show that he was let down. He felt guilty to be nearly begging for sympathy, but Jack couldn't help but to remember back when Sarah was first pregnant. Cards and words of congradulations had come in a storm, like a second wedding day. He admited that deep down, half of him had been expecting that kind of treatment again.

But in truth Jack also admited that he could understand their disapointment- to an extent. After all, they were bringing a new life to an island with more than enough stranded already(though too many dead), with little food and much danger.

"And Jack," Sayid spoke up. Jack turned around, hopeful. "Congradulations." His lips perked up in a smile, and Jack blushed a little, nodding in acceptance.

"Thanks," he said, sounding more grateful than he would've liked. Feeling a little relieved, Jack added: "You're the first person who's said that to me."

Face contorted in sympathy, Sayid gave an understanding nod, and stuck out a hand. Jack shook it, letting him speak again.

"Good luck," he offered, as though they were parting for a long journey.

In spite of the thought, Jack said lightly:

"You going somewhere, Sayid?"

The comment seemed to strike a spark somewhere within the man, and a smile escaped him as Sayid stood, lost in the moment for a few seconds.

"No," he said, and with a nod of his head, turned and left.

Boone and Locke were standing nearby, and when Jack approached, Locke smiled. Jack realized that Locke wouldn't know, unless Sayid told them, and he actually felt glad that for once they'd be able to tell somebody. Maybe the day would finally turn around some. Smiling, Locke acknowledged Jack before leaving, nearly fleeing from the idea of being aproached.

"I heard about your arm," Jack told Boone.

Looking taken aback by being spoken to, Boone was startled for a moment before replying.

"Yeah," Boone said casually, "it's fine."

A blanket that had been resting around Boone's shoulders slid the slightest, and Jack caught sight of numerous cuts that were coloring Boone's left arm, looking as vicious as a burn. Jack frowned, trying to think of a case recently where he'd seen something as bad as that. At least on someone living.

"It looks like a burn."

Jack hadn't realized that Sayid followed him, now looking just as concerned as Jack.

"It's not," Boone insisted, blushing a little at the attention the wound was getting.

"Can you get me some water?" Jack asked Sayid.

"Sure," Sayid offered, turning to leave.

"Hey," Jack called back, remembering his original reason for coming up the beach, "would you mind getting some for Kate too?"

Smiling, Sayid left. Boone watched Jack, confussed.

"What was that all about?" He inquired, smirking.

Jack attempted to look innocent, cheeks turning a dark color of pink.

"Nothing," he lied, turning back to Boone's arm.

Crossing his good arm over his chest, Boone grinned.

"Kate's pregnant," Jack admited, looking Boone in the eye, as if challenging him.

"Seriously?"

It was the first time he'd seen Boone look truly happy in weeks. Of course, it was also the first time he'd seen Boone in weeks, aside from the funeral.

Jack grinned.

"Yeah."

"Nice going," Boone said with a snort, and Jack laughed. "She didn't kick you out, did she?"

He looked around, searching for Kate.

"She didn't," Jack said, voice falling as he remembered how he was ganged up on that morning.

Boone didn't ask, and Jack was grateful. Jack used the silence to examine Boone's wound, which had to hurt more than he let on. Maybe Boone was just in some kind of shock.

"It is yours, right?" Boone spoke up suddenly.

Jack looked up at him quickly, feeling like someone had just stabbed him in the heart. He stared at him before finally accepting the question.

"Yeah," Jack said casually, shaking it off. Of course the baby was his. Kate loved him, unless he was missing something. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Embarrased, Boone looked like he regreted ever speaking up. Jack tried to ignore the question, hating that it was bothering him so much, as he continued to tend to Boone's wound.

"Because we all heard what happened with Kate and Sawyer."

Boone hissed in pain as Jack pulled the tape he'd been wrapping around Boone's arms accidently too tightly, and Jack dropped everything, telling Boone to hold on as he dashed across the beach. He found Kate in their tent, playing with the sand that served as a floor.

"We have to sleep there tonight," Jack reminded her lightly as he stepped in, deciding it best not to startle her with the question just yet.

Kate looked up at him, eyes far away as she gave him a half-hearted smile. Despite his comment, she went back to digging in the sand. Sitting down next to her, Jack was surprised at the relief that came from being off his feet and, crossing his legs, he let a finger trail the sand below. He waited a few moments before clearing his throat, partially wanting to drag out time as long as possible. If Boone was right, God forbid, if he was right, then his life would be over the moment he found out. He knew it. Jack felt angry at the thought...Sawyer wouldn't want to be a father. He wouldn't want the responsibility that Jack was willing to take, despite how the same thing turned out for him a few years ago. No matter how much he changed, Jack couldn't see Sawyer putting his heart into it. But Jack knew that he had to find out, so, taking a deep breath, he spoke up.

"How long has it been since you slept with Sawyer?"

Jack's eyes danced to hers, turning dark with dread and misery. Confussed, Kate's eyes met his, and she too swallowed.

"Two weeks," she whispered, clearing her throat in attempts to speak up, "maybe three-" she shook her head, "why does it matter?"

She turned back to him, waiting for his response. But Jack was too thrilled to explain, knowing Boone's theory was proven impossible. He kissed Kate, hardly giving her time to respond before he stood, grinning.

"Jack, what-" Kate watched him, looking slightly hurt, though more confussed.

"Nothing," Jack said happily, "it's nothing." He stopped, noticing her face, still fallen with its sad features as it possessed when he came in. Knealing down, Jack came eye to eye with her, studying Kate in concern. "You okay?"

She stared at him for a moment and then, as if she didn't hear him, quickly replied.

"Yeah," she assured, "I'm great."

But she didn't sound too assuring. Jack knew that look, something was bothering her, but he also knew that she wouldn't tell him until she was ready.

"Boone's arm is messed up," Jack informed her as she went back to her sandpile she'd been making, "I kinda left him, so...I should go. Unless there was something-"

"No," Kate interrupted, more quickly than he would've liked, "it's your job. Go."

He stared after her a minute, trying to break down the comment. It was shot at him, like an accusation. As if he needed another one that day. Once they'd finally reached their tent, finding it the only safe place where they could truly be alone, they hadn't talked much, mutually agreeing they needed the silence. Like they'd earned each other's company. Now Jack was feeling otherwise, like there was something they should've been discussing. But Kate didn't offer him anymore, and Jack knew she wouldn't, regardless of how long he stood there. So, turning, Jack made his way back up the beach.

(space)

After Jack left, Kate felt more alone than ever that day. She'd only been listening to part of what he'd been saying, but she found herself surprised at how easily Jack was able to bring up her former affair. Almost as easily as everyone had been able to turn against them. Kate had never felt so betrayed...these were people she actually concidered friends.

"Bloody rock," someone mumbled miserably from outside, cursing under their breath.

Curious, Kate got to her feet, only slightly surprised to find Charlie outside the tent(the accent had given him away). Rubbing a sore toe, Charlie blushed at being caught.

"Sorry, I..." He trailed off, leaving Kate to draw her own conclusions.

Not only did he looked embarrased at being caught by the same person he'd turned against earlier, Charlie looked downright afraid.

"Just passing," Charlie explained nervously.

"It's fine," Kate told him hoarsly, resting a hand on the pole of the tent.

Charlie's eyes avoided her, looking for an easy escape. Kate wanted to scream: Just turn and walk away! It didn't stop him before.

"Look," Charlie said, sighing, "I'm sorry."

Kate blinked. She wondered now if Charlie hadn't tripped over a convenient rock, but had done it to purposly draw her attention. She wondered if someone could truly be sorry after such a betrayel. Right now, Kate was too angry to think of forgivness.

"Yeah?" She snapped harshly. "Well Jack's done a helluva lot for you, for Claire. He saved your life! What right do you have to turn away like that?"

Startled at her outburst, Charlie didn't answer. She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, sighing. Truthfully she didn't want to stay mad at Charlie or Claire, if not for selfish reasons- Claire would be amazing help when it came to the baby. If she hadn't already signed the petition to vote them of the island.

"I'm sorry," Kate offered, partially meaning it, "it's just..." she trailed off. She'd never opened up to anyone besides Jack, except for maybe Sawyer, and in the past, Tom. She didn't know how he would react, or how far she'd go. Kate truly did feel like breaking down inside, her bottled-up emotions suddenly wanting to burst and lash out. "It's hard."

Charlie's nervous expression softened into a sympathetic half-smile, and he brought a hand to her shoulder. It was odd to see the sympathetic-friend side of him, and found herself happy for Claire that she had him.

"I know," he said kindly, "I mean it though, I'm sorry, and if you ever need any help, you know-" Charlie grinned, "you know who to call."

His wink following made Kate laugh, though she was still slightly skeptical.

"Thanks," she said, "sorry, I'm just...confussed. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Who does when they're pregnant?" Charlie said. He blushed. "Not that I'd know personally, of course."

Kate rolled her eyes and then looked away. She wondered what Jack would think- or do- if he came back and found her talking to Charlie. Earlier she could practically hear thoughts of revenge going through his head.

"You shouldn't be worried though," Charlie went on, "everything's going to be fine."

Like a kid, Kate replied:

"How do you know?" feeling skeptical.

Charlie grinned.

"Because things are going to turn around," Charlie reached behind his neck, tugging on what look like the chain of a black, fake, necklace. "I can feel it."

With that he gave her a pat on the shoulder and left, leaving her more confused than before, though admitly slightly better. Instead of her previous troubles, Kate found herself wondering what the necklace was of.

(space)

When Jack looked for Kate again he didn't find her in the tent. The sand was back the way it was supposed to be, smooth, at least smooth enough to sleep on. Puzzled, Jack left the tent in a hurry, his mind fill of worry as he crossed the beach desperatly, setting aside the fact that he knew Kate wouldn't do something stupid right now like run off...especially after what just happened with Rebecca. Epsecially with the baby.

At last he found her, unsurprisingly sitting alone by the shore, knees just enough above ground so that they wouldn't get drenched by the sea. Shuddering, Jack remembered his underwater adventure, unable believe that it had just happened this morning. Nevertheless Jack smiled with relief, making his way to sit down next to her when he noticed what she was holding in her hands: a gun.

"Please tell me that's not loaded," Jack said with desperate hope, running a hand over his head. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to lose it. Instead he waited for Kate to answer him. She didn't, only turned to him, revealing her tear-struck cheeks and sobbing appearance. Kate attempted to choke back a sob, making a desperate choking sound. Somehow this made Jack more sympathetic. Careful not to startle her, Jack sat down slowly, first reaching for the gun. Kate gasped when he tried to wrestle it out of her hands, fighting back until a spare shot flew into the crashing waves. Sobbing even harder, Kate gave up completly, letting Jack take- and fully take apart- the gun, placing it out of her reach.

He let her have her moment. He let her sit there, looking confussed, hurt, betrayed that he'd do such a thing, while Jack was mirroring those very emotions. He let her sit their crying, despite Kate's strict beliefs about holding in her emotions, using those feelings now as a true cry for help. Putting herself in a position that Jack was all too familiar with personally. He'd seen it in others, in friends, in patients. Even in himself. And now he was seeing it again in the person he loved.

Then he began his job. His job in their friendship, his job in their relationship. Being what Kate needed him to be: someone who cared.

"What's this about, Kate?" He began slowly, remembering countless times he'd seen this situation played out. Someone was in depserate need of saving, and Jack had to play savior. He never really saw himself as that, but it seemed that everyone else did. That was something Jack would never understand. "Is it you or..." he swallowed, not wanting to say it. Because he was afraid it was true. "...me? What's going on, Kate?"

She looked at him like the world was crashing down on her. For the first time, Jack saw that she truly hated being there, on the island. It was taking a horrific toll on her, and it was all coming out at the worst of times. Not that it was wrong for someone to let their emotions out. It was just that Jack wasn't sure how to handle this. Though he had been through this kind of situation before, this felt so much bigger. This was Kate. And at the same time he felt so guilty, just because he wasn't sure what to do. Like he was cheating her out of help. Of hope.

At last Kate's mouth fell open in an incredulous, horrified, way, but not because of Jack. Because of herself.

"I can't do this," she choked out, eyes crying out in desperation. She didn't really want to do this; he knew it. "Jack, I- I can't do this."

Jack softened at her voice, so full of defeat that he could feel it flowing straight through him as she spoke. His throat felt unstable, like his lungs would collasps at any attempt of speaking. The thought almost scared him into silence. But that was ridiculous, he knew, and swallowed hard to clear the knot in his throat.

"Kate," he began tentively, "you're going to be scared...terrified of this...change." Jack made himself appear to relax a little, when in reality he was tense in his own terror. What if he'd been too late? Would she have done it? Bringing his hands to her arms, he gripped her soothingly, lightly enough to let her know he was there for her, but roughly enough to grab her attention. "But that's okay."

Shaking herself out of Jack's grip, Kate shook her head madly, as if trying to shake the emotion out of herself. She didn't even hold his gaze, or even ackwnoledge it.

"That's not it," she said, now free of sobs though tears still swelled in her eyes. Now she looked at him, meeting his eyes, forcing him to stare into her tears, almost as though she were punishing him. But for the first time, Jack didn't feel like he needed to be punished. Maybe he was wrong about that. He'd done his best to be as...normal...as possible, for Kate's sake. Maybe this was just the world's funny little way of punishing him, like always, playing tricks and games instead of just reciting a lesson. But why did he always have to be punished through someone else? Someone else he cared about?

Kate didn't offer anymore, as if that explained it all, and Jack wondered if he was supposed to say something now. The last thing he wanted to do was sit in silence. He only would when she truly needed it, not when it was just excusing the most important thing: getting her through this. So he swallowed, preparing himself to ask the question that wasn't more for him as it was for her:

"What were you going to do with the gun, Kate?"

He watched her in all of concern and confussion, both dreading and silently anticipating the answer. He needed to know what was wrong with her, what this was truly about. Though it was his job, Jack hated seeing people suffer. Ironically, it was also his job to help those people.

"I want you to kill it," she whispered, trembling uncontrollably.

Jack's breath caught itself in his throat. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, throat suddenly dry. He stared at her for a moment, eyes thrashing, trying to decide on the correct emotion he was supposed to be sending out. On instinct, Jack wanted to yell. Tell her that was selfish. Tell her that she'd be killing herself as well. But he supposed she already knew that, and that was the worst part. At the same time he wanted to bring her close to him, hold her, tell her that he didn't want that. Which was selfish in itself. But surely, surely, she didn't really want that? Jack could remember Sarah being nervous about being a mother, downright panicing, but never this bad.

Well, except for the time she left him.

And that was the main reason Jack was feeling angry. Not only did he not want Kate to do this, but he admitidly didn't want Kate to do this for him. He couldn't handle being hurt again. But Jack knew it'd be inappropriate to voice these thoughts, and he focused on the idea of Kate killing herself...he couldn't even imagine it. All of a sudden it was like the idea of living, of living with him, was hell. And all Jack knew was that he couldn't let that happen.

"I keep telling you -telling myself!- that everything's fine," Kate went on with a sob, "but it's not. It's not, Jack! And it's not because I'm afraid or nervous-" she glared at him with accusing eyes, as if she had been reading his mind, "I'm a criminal." She breathed out the word in a sigh, as if she were speaking something she'd been holding in for awhile, releashing herself from the burden of it. "I'm a fugitive and a mother." Kate shook her head at the very idea of it. "I can't mix the two, Jack. I'll never really be free. I'm supposed to be in prison!"

The words hit him like a punch of reality. Now he understood. It was like a motherhood crisis...like she was coming back from a vacation and realized the work she had to return to. The stress. The reality. But the truth was that this was no island vacation. This was life. And the sooner they started treating the place like home, the sooner- in theory- it would become easier to stay. But even the monster didn't factor into Kate's obliviousness to the idea. It was the fact that she didn't have to run anymore.

"That doesn't matter here, Kate," Jack said, hating that way that he sounded absolutly annoyed by her confession. He didn't want to come off too strong, push her even more over the edge.

"Yes it does!" Kate cried, seeming oblivious to the tears streaming down her cheeks. It was as if though she didn't care anymore. Jack hated seeing Kate like this, because it just made that thought seem so much more real. She'd really lost it. Now she was becoming as insane as he was. "I've done bad things, Jack." For a moment she just sat there, shaking her head, as if this was all so impossible to be true. That something this bad shouldn't happen, that an innocent child shouldn't be brought into her world. Like there was no such thing as redemption. "I can't bring that into someone's life! I can't go on like this...I just- I can't."

Unlike most feel after they confessed, relieved of their sins, Kate just stared at him, horrified of herself. She didn't look down, ashamed or embarrased, but instead they just met eyes. There was no denial involved, just acceptance that this was how life was. There was no changing, no hope. Anything he'd ever offered her before didn't matter in the thick of it. Jack had never been the one to believe this. He lived his life trying to impress his father, hoping that someday things would get better. Knowing someday that they'd have to get better. Because nothing was worse than the present, and nothing was as haunting as the past. And one thing Jack had wanted was to offer this hope to Kate.

"We're not perfect." Jack offered, looking up from where he had been gazing at the ground, thinking, "but we have to do this. We can't give up. Not yet, not after all we've been through. We have to prove them wrong."

Only Jack would've noticed the graceful way Kate's expression changed, pyshically mirroring the emotion that shook her very thoughts, sliding not into complete denial, but something like disapointment. She met his eyes, as if she knew he didn't feel the same way. She didn't want to change that, but she wanted him to see her side of the story.

"Who are we trying to prove wrong?"

Jack didn't answer. He'd spent most of his life trying to prove people wrong, insisting to himself that he would amount to something. That things weren't as bad as they seemed. But Kate was right, who were they supposed to prove wrong? It seemed like it should be someone. God? Fate? Who was to blame? But then again, who got the credit? Who got the credit for bringing the two of them, complete opposites from their own troubled, tortured, worlds, together, while at the same time placing every obstacle imaginable in between them? Maybe this was never supposed to hapen. That's why everything always went wrong.

But yet, being together had always seemed right. Like they were trying to prove someone wrong.

Kate didn't talk again after that. Respecting her silence this time, Jack tried to force his mind elsewhere, while keeping a watch on Kate. He didn't want to think about 'what ifs', as the mind always did after critical situations. He just wanted to be grateful that those 'what ifs' didn't happen. That's when he remembered the gun. There it sat as he turned to it, laying on the ground in a haunting way, the parts facing towards him. Mocking him. Mocking his mistakes, his failures. And just like everyone else, never showing what he acheived. That could've been the same gun he used in a battle against the Others, saving lives. The very same gun Kate wanted to take her's with. Funny how life worked.

"Where'd you get the gun?" Jack asked, more forcefully than he meant, though he spoke carefully. Swallowing, this time he looked up to Kate when she didn't answer. "Where'd you get the gun, Kate?"

She didn't waste a moment, as if knowing she couldn't escape the confession. Slowly, with slight pride, Kate said:

"Sayid gave it to me."

Jack breathed in a quick breath, taking in what she said. Then, without warning, he jumped to his feet.

"I'll kill him," Jack announced, his hands, though still sore from the slits on his palms, clenching into fist.

He could feel himself growing heated with anger, and already he was storming up the beach, ignoring Kate's protesting stares behind him. By the time he reached Sayid, who had unsually yet to leave the beach, she thought to say:

"It's not what you think!"

But already Jack had spun Sayid around to face him, though immediatly shoving him back. Attention was drawn to him, and he could hear Mitchell in his head, using this as just another excuse to point out his failures.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Jack shouted, putting only a few inches of space between he and Sayid.

Sayid's reply was somewhat of a smirk, as if he'd expected this. Just thinking that earlier he was grateful for the way Sayid seemed to understand everything made him even more furious, betrayed. When Sayid still didn't answer, Jack pulled back a sore fist, but it was caught before he could throw it forward. Sayid never flinched. He found that he was breathing hard, though all he'd done was run up the beach. Pausing, Jack knew it was Kate who stopped him before he turned around. Their eyes connected, and everyone watched as Kate held his fist in the air, squeezing it tightly as if making sure it would stay there. Her eyes were intense with dead emotion as she stared at him, and during that moment Jack was getting the same feeling that she had just completly given up.

"He gave it to me for protection," Kate said coldly, accusingly. "Because we don't even have a gun."

"Yes we do," Jack protested without thinking. They did have a gun, but with very few bullets. There were only a handful of bullets left for the four guns that'd survived their half a year on the island.

Her eyes narrowed in a 'we'll talk about this later' kind of way, and Jack dropped the subject. Instead he turned to Sayid, slightly embarrased that a big scene was being made out of this.

"I can protect her fine," he warned.

"I was just offering to help," Sayid replied cooly. Jack wondered, had Sayid knew what just almost happened, if he would've of spoken so lighly of it.

I don't need it, almost slipped out before Jack was able to stop himself. Because he didn't want that statement to come back to haunt him. In time, they would need help. So instead Jack kept his mouth shut, and turned back to Kate in a silent "let's go". Turning on her heals, Kate walked away, uneffected by the scene, while Jack followed her, keeping his head down to avoid the stares that followed him. Subconsiously they both went back to their same spot on the beach, but before they got a chance to sit down, Kate grabbed his hand, pulling Jack towards her. Surprised, Jack hardly had time to react as she kissed him, almost as if searching for something within that kiss, before she pulled away. Once again they met eyes, and Jack still had the feeling that she was looking for something within him. Maybe some kind of reason. She looked like she wanted to apologize, but she never did. Finally she simply sat down again, drawing her knees towards her as she stared out to sea. Sitting down next to her, Jack watched her for a few moments before turning to the clouds she was watching, trying to see the picture she was seeing, as he always did.

"Hey-" he began assuringly, reaching to put an arm around her.

Shoving away, Kate spat:

"Don't talk to me."

With glaring eyes she turned back to the sea, staring at it so intensly that it looked like she was ready to murder it. Gone was the calm way Kate would spend her days by the shore, using it for an escape, grateful for its beauty and silence. Now it was a place to be angry, to let off steam.

"It's not that I wanted to kill myself," Kate said after an angry pause, "is just the baby." She shook her head, having the same disbeliving demeanor as earlier. "I don't know if I can do this. Not here." Silently, Jack was pleased to hear her say 'I don't know' instead of 'I can't. Resting her head against an arm that was thrown over her knees, Kate seemed smaller to him that Jack could ever remember her being- not in size, but in the fact that her walls were completly down now. "We're not even married."

Jack did a double-take at the last statement. The suggestion seemed like an impossible senario, though it would've been the first conclusion they'd jump to, had they been a couple off the island. He tilted his neck to the side, as if that would help make things clearer. Marrying Kate. He'd never concidered it before. But now that she brought it up, sounding a little hurt by the fact, Jack felt guilty. Then again, what was he supposed to do? Get Locke to build a wedding chapel? They were on an island. A signed document joining them together would meaning nothing.

Except maybe to the two of them.

"We could change that."

Swallowing, Jack hoped that was the right thing to say. At least it took Kate's attention off the sea, the suggestion softening her eyes, almost as though she were returning to normal.

"Of course," Jack went on when Kate didn't say anything, "we don't have any rings."

"I don't need a ring."

Turning towards her, Jack could've sworn he felt something swirling around them, like some invisible force that was giving them hope. Making things better, just like he'd always believed.

"Really?" He said lightly, glancing towards the sea, "so if I took a strand of seaweed and wrapped it around your finger, you'd marry me?"

Her expression didn't change. In fact, of anything, Kate looked insulted that he'd think differently.

"Maybe," she admited, offering him no more.

Jack was afraid to say anything else without thinking it through. It was a big proposal to make in a very risky place. Though marriage offered some kind of guarantee of companionship, such a bond could be broken so easily. Then it was truly over. Suddenly Jack found himself stuck in the past, marrying a patient and then later finding out that she was pregnant. The only thing stopping him from wondering if Sarah had an affair was the fact that everyone always said the baby(or at least the picture he was sent of her), looked exactly like him.

"It's a riddiculous idea," Kate said at last, ending their silence.

Keeping his eyes on the ground, Jack nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed, "we couldn't get married here."

"Yeah," Kate echoed, a smile escaping her chapped lips, "what are we going to do, have Charlie sing and Hurley dress up as a preacher?"

Snorting, Jack nodded along in agreement.

"It's an insane idea, anyway," Kate went on, completly dismissing the suggestion, "besides, what if we get rescued?" Suddenly Kate's face fell, as if just realizing something for the first time. Repeating herself, the amusment in Kate's voice was gone, replaced by a dark sense of fear. She turned to Jack, truly looking for an answer this time. "What if we get rescued, Jack?"

Jack looked away. He didn't want to think about it. One thing Kate had been right about was the fact that she was a wanted criminal, and nothing would change that. Though he didn't want to rid everyone of hope, it seemed like the only way this would work was if they weren't saved. In its crazy little way, the island had already done that for them. It had its horrors, its obstacles, and Jack hated the place more than he'd ever hated anything in his life. But suddenly, at that moment, what Locke said to him months before was starting to make sense:

I looked into the eye of the island, and what I saw was beauty.

"We'll just...hope for the best," Jack said quietly, remembering to answer her at the last moment.

He'd hope things were finally calming down, and for old times sake they could just sit there, appreciating each other's company and grateful for the moment of peace. But Kate didn't seem ready to give up yet.

"Even if we do stay here," Kate continued, "what are we going to do? I can't feed a baby mangos or coconuts. How will we know what it's allergic to?"

"It'll be fine," Jack assured, "we'll take it one day at a time."

"How will we teach it?" Kate went on, ignoring him. "It's not like someone packed a bag full of picture books and flashcards."

"Luckily, those things don't matter here" Jack pointed out, a little amused at the things Kate was worried about, though he himself went through the same worrying everyday, "when the baby comes, he'll be fine."

Suddenly Kate stopped, turning to him with a smile playing on her lips.

"What?" Jack asked quizzically.

Kate grinned.

"You said he."

Shrugging, Jack didn't think too much on it, though Kate seemed to be beaming with amusment and excitment.

"What makes you so sure it'll be a boy?" She inquired, eyeing him with intrest.

Jack took a moment to concider it.

"Well," he began thoughtfully, "I've already had a daughter, so I figured this time it'd only be fair for it to be a boy."

Grinning to herself, Kate shook her head.

"It doesn't work that way," she argued, pleased with herself, "you see, you've already have a daughter, but I haven't." She smiled proudly. "So it'll be a girl."

Frowning, Jack tried to work his way around her theory. With a grin still on her lips, Kate nudged him.

"Don't worry," she said with mock sympathy, "third times the charm. Maybe next time."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Next time?" He inquired.

Shrugging, Kate just turned away. A pause signified a change of tone to their few more pleasant moments, and Kate grew thoughtful again.

"I'm sorry that guy went off at you like that," she said, this time with true sympathy, "you didn't deserve it."

Again, Jack just shrugged. And again he let her have her silence, though he would've rather kept talking, change the subject. He found himself really wanting to move on, to speed through the day as quickly as possible. But as they sat by the incoming tide the idea seemed impossible, for with each welcoming wave came not even a full minute. They could sit there forever, listening to the waves crash to the shore, and it'd never stop. Maybe that's what amazed Kate so much about the ocean. One thing that seemed to be accomplished was that Kate once again looked at peace, no longer angry, but in a state of recovery. She looked as if she wanted to say something when her hand flew to her head, Kate herself wincing in pain. Jack's hand was immediatly reaching out to her in concern.

"I'm fine," she insisted, knocking his hand away. Slowly, she began to get to her feet. "I think I'm gonna go lay down."

"Here-" Jack began, reaching up to help Kate stand, ready to launch into an excuse to come with.

Stopping, Kate stared him into pausing himself. She eyed him, looking suddenly tired and worn out. Bags circled Kate's eyes, not bothered to be hidden by makeup, from nights of her own nightmares. Finally she laid eyes on him, smiling a little.

"No offense Jack," Kate began lightly, "but we're not going to make it through the next nine months with you following me around like a puppy." She grinned. "Who knows, I might just get the habbit of turning around and slapping you."

Jack couldn't help but to grin himself. She surprised him again with a kiss, this time letting it linger as they kissed a second time, and Jack was just wrapping his arms around her when she pulled away, a smile playing on her lips.

"What?" Jack protested.

"Let's wait nine months before there's a next time," Kate requested with a grin.

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue, Kate's hand brushing against his as she walked away. Jack watched as she went, like a proud parent on their child's first day of school. Jack quickly shook himself out of it.

"Well, well, well."

Somehow, Jack found himself grinning again, even blushing at Sawyer's voice, reoccuiped with its Southern drawl, sounding happier than he had all day. Sawyer was pleased with himself, and he knew why: he finally had an excuse to torture Jack with his jokes and sarcasm again. Turning around, Jack watched the ground as Sawyer approached him.

"I don't know if I should congradulate ya or send you to confession."

Smirking, Sawyer grasped Jack's hand in a firm shake, and like Boone, remarked:

"Nice going."

Jack shook his head, cheeks turning a bright color of pink as he grinned.

"Though I hope you're not planning on having that kid around me," Sawyer warned, "I'll stick that thing right back where it came from."

Rolling his eyes, Jack said: "I'm sure Kate'll love that."

"Yeah," Sawyer snorted, "well she sure as hell ain't holdin' my hand during the labor."

"But we were depending on it!" Jack teased. "I promised her."

"And that's one promise you're breaking," Sawyer said. "Course, I wouldn't mind seein' it."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"What, the birth?" He asked quizzically.

"No," Sawyer said with a laugh "the her turning around and slapping you part. What the hell was that about anyway?"

Sighing, Jack noticed the gun was still laying in the sand, and he didn't need Sawyer to tell him he saw it as well. He bent down and picked up the weapon, gazing at it as he spoke:

"You don't want to know."

Jack quickly put the gun away, clearing his throat to signal a subject change.

"Was there something you needed?" Jack asked, rushing the conversation, though he didn't exactly know why. "Is Rebecca okay?"

That seemed to calm Sawyer down a little, and his expression hardened.

"She's fine," Sawyer replied gruffly, as though it was some big secret.

Jack nodded, not saying anything. Looking around, he wondered what he should do. For the first time in a long time, Jack found himself almost...bored. And it was actually a nice feeling. He had Kate to worry about, yes, and then his own mental state to deal with, but for the moment, there was no drama to deal with. As long as he could avoid everyone else.

"So," Sawyer spoke up, casual sounding, like a teenager, "about that guy. Mitchell. He's an asshole."

Jack snorted.

"You're putting it lightly," he commented.

"Well, with the kid on the way, I figured I should cut back language," Sawyer said, "it'll save me a lecture from mommy dearest. And a punch or two. Kinda like a killin' two birds with one stone thing."

"What about Aaron?" Jack inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Claire ain't followin' me around, practically begging for me to adopt the guy," Sawyer pointed out.

Jack frowned.

"Yes she does," he said, confussed.

"I was talkin' about Charlie," Sawyer grinned. He punched Jack in the arm. "Don't worry, I have a feeling she wants to keep ya."

He winked, and Jack gave him an uncertain smile. Surely it wouldn't get that bad, would it? Of course, that was only Sawyer trying to mess with his mind.

Sawyer glanced around the beach.

"Sorry Pa," he spoke up with causual wit, "but I've got a get back to my girl. Don't worry though, I won't be a minute past curfew."

Laughing at his own joke, he slapped Jack's shoulder in a goodbye, shaking his head as he walked away. It wasn't until he was gone that Jack realized Sawyer hadn't come straight out with a congradulations or apology for not stepping up earlier. Though, like Kate, Sawyer had never been the one to come directly out with something. It was one of the things they had in common. Shuddering, Jack tried not to think about that. Once again, he just wanted to be grateful the 'what ifs' didn't happen. Another realization hit him as he turned back to the tent Kate was assumingly asleep in: everything he wanted seemed to come to him, though it had its funny way of doing so. Lessons came down hard, some he didn't even deserve to learn, but in the end, things did seem to turn out okay. It was the same belief he had as a kid, and Jack found himself more grateful than ever that it still seemed to be working for him.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for the reviews! You guys rock!

Coming up next, on "In the End":

A little less conversation...oh wait, I lied. A lot of conversation. Someone comes back, someone...well, you'll see.

Thanks again!

Until next time...

October Sky