In the End

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Disclaimer: "A Rush of Blood To the Head" was written and performed by Coldplay.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Rest In Peace

Waves crashed against his feet as he walked. Jack felt like an idiot, wearing shoes as he walked the shore, a shallow tide wipping around his ankles as he went. For awhile he ran, running the opposite direction of the beach for what felt like miles. Now, exhausted from both a lack of sleep and the run, Jack settled for a walk. Planning to check up on Kate, Jack headed back towards camp, already able to see people going about their day, perfectly willing to ignore him as he approached. Not even noticing he was coming. So he decided to ignore them back. His mind was still reeling from the events of the day, a walk had been just what he needed. But he couldn't forget the way everyone turned away from them, just like that. Still, he couldn't help but to stop when someone called out from nearby.

"Hello, Jack."

The unfamiliar voice itself made him stop. He recognized it, no doubt, the woman's calm voice unmistankingly belonged to Rose, but he couldn't remember seeing her around for awhile. Trying and failing to manage a smile, Jack settled for a simple blank face.

"Rose," Jack nodded, sounding surprised.

She looked up to him, that concerned looked of hers Rose was always acustomed to having. Frowning, she spoke up again:

"Is something wrong?" She asked, studying his demeanor, all of angry and exhausted. Sweat soaked half of his shirt from the run; he looked liked he'd been staring face up into a rainstorm.

"Yeah," Jack replied with light sarcasm, "Kate's pregnant and the whole island's turned against me."

"But part of it was always against you," Rose pointed out. Jack managed a grim smile. "Sit down, you look like you could use a break."

Hesitating, Jack looked around the camp. He had planned on checking up on Kate, but like she said, she needed her space... With a sigh, Jack sat down, but the sigh wasn't so much irritation as exhaustion. He really was tired. Having not slept peacfully in days, a run was probably the last thing he needed. His eyes seemed to never be able to stay open, especially when he was alone. So part of Jack was actually grateful for a conversation with Rose, and when he sat down he sighed a little again, relieved to be off his feet.

"Thanks," Jack said, breaking the silence between them.

Rose didn't reply. Slightly curious, Jack turned to her, watching, puzzled, as Rose simply stared out to sea...smiling. Just when he was about to ask her what she had to be so happy about, Rose answered for him:

"I've always loved the ocean," Rose explained. She was the only truly happy person Jack had seen for awhile. There were people like Sawyer and Rebecca, who had a reason to be happy- they had been brought back together; and then there was he and Kate, who were just happy to make it through each day. Then there was Rose, who seemed to just be happy to be happy. For no specific reason whatsoever.

"Kate does too," Jack say, staring down at the sand.

While Rose smiled even wider, as if that made her happier, but Jack grew more distant, becoming slightly lost in his thoughts. Coming back at once, Jack found himself not thinking about their most recent encounter, but other times he found Kate by the ocean, just standing there, smiling at it like it held some magic secret to peace. Jack, however, had always had mixed feelings about the ocean. When they'd first crashed, having the ocean stretched out in front of them made rescue seem closer, when it was really miles, lifetimes, away. But now, when all hope for rescue was basically lost, Jack could see why the sea seemed so welcoming to these two people. It was more calming to look at, possesing no dark creatures, like the jungle. Or at least they thought. Still heavy on his mind was the black spot he found and that hatch with the cyclone.

"She's scared, I think," Jack commented, with no real reason. Suddenly he felt like talking to someone, and who better than Rose, who certainly wasn't turning him away, and who certainly wouldn't go telling others whatever it was he had to say?

"Why shouldn't she be?" Rose inquired, glancing towards him. "Honey, when my sister was pregnant with her first child, she was a nervous wreck, swearing up and down everyday for nine months that she'd never go through that agian."

"And now?" Jack asked.

"Married with three, beautiful, children," Rose smiled, "and she doesn't regret a day of it."

The statement assured Jack a little, and he found himself relaxing into the conversation.

"What about her husband?" Jack asked with a small smile, forcing the question through embarrasment.

Rose never stopped smiling.

"Don't worry," she assured, "you'll be fine. You just need a little faith."

Jack's heart leaped at the word. It felt so completly foriegn, something that he never expected to hear of again. Something that he never thought imaginable to be heard of under the circumstances.

"Faith?" Jack nearly spat, shaking his head. "How the hell am I supposed to have faith?"

Rose turned to him, more serious this time.

"In nine months you're going to have a beautiful boy or girl, and you don't know why you should have anything faith?" Rose inquired.

She sounded like he personally insulted her, and Jack suddenly felt like he needed to fix this, and quickly. But he really didn't want to correct himself. With all that had happened over the past months, Jack had become blind to faith; the only kind he possessed was the hope of something better to come. He supposed that had to count for something, but religion wasn't something he was about to become a slave to. It just seemed unfair in this place. Sighing, Jack decided the best way out of this would just leave it at that, and he began to turn back to Rose.

"I should go check on-"

But when he turned, there was no one there. Jack blinked and looked around, but Rose was no where in sight. There was no sign of her, not even a footprint.

"Rose?" He asked to no one in particular.

"You're going a bit nutty, if you ask me," Charlie answered for him from nearby. A strum of a guitar was heard following, and Charlie began to play a couple of measures of a song Jack didn't know. "But don't worry, it's expected."

He grinned, and Jack wondered if Charlie suddenly suffered some kind of memory loss, like Claire. Jack found that he was standing now, with Charlie assuming he was listening.

"Glad to hear it," Jack muttered bitterly.

Charlie stopped playing, seeing that something was wrong. With a sigh he looked up at Jack, squinting to block out the sun.

"Look, Mate," Charlie began, "I'm sorry."

Jack didn't answer. He hated to sound shallow, but sorry didn't feel good enough. Jack didn't know what was worse, the way everyone turned their backs on them, or the way they were able to do so so easily.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be turned against?" Jack shot, remembering that Charlie, specifically, had spoken out against him.

"I know," Charlie said, "I'm sorry."

He looked down to his guitar, as if still thinking about the subject, but not feeling the need to share his thoughts with Jack. Jack waited, assuming he'd speak up again.

"You want to play?" Charlie asked suddenly, holding up the instrument.

Jack raised an eyebrow. Charlie never so much as let someone touch his guitar case. He took a step back, then a step forward, remembering that he should answer.

"Seriously?" He finally said, finding nothing else to say.

Charlie shrugged. He looked more like a kid that was being forced to play with a neighbor than sincere, but Jack didn't question him. Instead he sat down, and Charlie carefully lowered his guitar into Jack's lap, looking pained at the parting with the instrument.

"Put your right hand here," Charlie instructed, though he himself moved Jack's hand to sit against the strings of the guitar. "And your left here." Placing his fingers on random spaces against the first few frets, Jack wondered if he was even positioned to strum a real chord. When Jack hesistated, Charlie forced a smile and eyed him. "Go ahead."

The sound the strum made was painful, to say the least. Jack wasn't even sure if it was a real sound. Strumming the guitar more roughly than he should've, the chord produced sounded like Jack had dropped a stack of bricks onto a keyboard with a guitar sound effect on. Charlie shuddered a little at the sound.

"Well, you can't be good at everything," he offered with a shrug, "sorry, Mate."

Not responding, Jack stared down to the guitar. He remembered Alex saying something about some record deal she had with her boyfriend- the reason they'd moved to New York in the first place. Assuming she had her guitar with her while traviling, Jack wondered that, if he looked, he'd find it washed up on shore somewhere. But, like Jack himself, he remembered Alex mentioned being a good deal better at playing piano then guitar. The coincidence almost seemed eerie.

"It's probably out of tune," Jack defended smartly, despite this. Charlie glared.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, reaching out for the instrument. "Don't talk about her like that!" Jack rolled his eyes. "Give it here."

"I'm sorry," Jack offered half-heartily, "really."

Charlie restled the guitar out of his hands anyway, glaring as he took hold of it.

"I don't want you to hurt hit," he explained bittlerly.

Almost immediatly, Charlie began playing his guitar again, as though the two were never apart.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Charlie said, the strumming of the strings stopping suddenly; serious now, "really."

By the tone of his voice, Jack knew he was talking about the morning incident, not the guitar. Still, Jack somehow didn't feel too forgiving.

(space)

The sun burned his eyes, but Boone was eventually able to ignore it, staring up at the sky with his hands behind his head. Lounging in the sand near the shore, Boone found himself spending more time at the beach than he had in while. With the cool ocean breeze swaying around him, Boone felt like he could be at peace more than ever. Could be. But with everthing on his mind, that was proven impossible.

Nearby he heard feet shuffling against the sand, and somehow, Boone knew it was Locke without asking. He'd learned a lot about the man over the past few months, though Locke rarely revealed anything about himself of his past. Of course, Boone knew that there was a good reason for that.

"I never understood the point of sunbathing," Boone commented as Locke approached, "laying in the heat for hours, getting sunburned...never really appealed to me."

"Shannon seemed to," Locke threw in. Boone didn't respond.

Locke invited himself to sit down, chosing to sit up, crosslegged, rather than to lay back. Suddenly feeling uncofortable, Boone sat up, drawing his knees close to his chest.

"How's the arm?" Locke asked, glancing at the bandaged wrapped around Boone's injured arm.

Boone shrugged.

"It'll heal."

He hadn't dared to remove the bandage to look at the wound; even Jack himself seemed stumped by the viciousness of the cuts that looked burned into his skin. But he managed to put it behind him, deciding that'd be the last of the hatch he'd allow himself to be worried about. As if reading his mind, Locke spoke up about the subject:

"Sayid tells me you're not planning on going back," Locke informed him. He didn't sound disapointed or surprised, just interested.

"I never said that," Boone defended.

"But you mean it," Locke pointed out.

Boone sighed. After all, sitting here and turning down the fact would probably earn him an early start at rebuilding the underground room in the morning. Talking himself out of it could do just that, get himself out of dealing with the hatch forever. And he wanted to. He felt that he needed to, for himself and in respect for Shannon's memory. He felt like he needed to get out there and see the world, to experience more than just the everyday stress, anger, and guilt the hatch brought, even if that would only mean seeing more of the beach.

"So what if I do?" Boone challenged. Feeling suddenly confident, Boone even looked Locke in the eye, when he wasn't sure he'd do so a few months ago. Locke was a man who seemed to demand a certain dosage of respect from anyone that found themselves in his presence.

And unlike what would've happen a few months ago, Locke was the one to look away, staring thoughtfully in front of him.

"There comes a time in ones life when a man has to make a choice," Locke began wisley. "A choice of change. Ever heard of 'The Road Not Taken'?"

"Sure," Boone shrugged. He must've studied that poem every year since sixth grade. "Robert Frost. 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...'"

"And I took the one less traveled by," Locke cut in with a smile. Boone just stared at him. There was a short pause before Locke dove into a long explination, though Locke's explinations never seemed to explain themselves right out. They were for you to dicipher. "Nine years ago today, my wife and daughter were killed by a drunk driver." He spoke with ease, despite the pain that came with the memory, and Boone cringed. It still wasn't easy for him to think about. "And now I'm here." He pointed at Boone. "Road less taken."

Boone stared out to sea. He was confused, but he wasn't about to let Locke see that. It was good, at least, to see that some things never changed.

"So maybe a change would be good," Locke concluded, "but that's your choice to make."

As soon as he was finished Locke got to his feet, not even bothering with a goodbye. Boone immediatly followed.

"Where're you going?" He inquired, following Locke as he began to walk away.

Stopping, Locke turned around to him.

"You're not the only one with a choice to make."

Once again, there was Locke's explination without a true explination. Quite grimly he turned, but Boone found that he wasn't going to be left alone. Locke walked off, only to reveal that Sayid had been standing behind him, smirking a little in that way he always did, as if he'd known this would happen.

"Surprise, surprise," Boone muttered under his breath.

He didn't wait for a reply. Settling back into the sand, Boone only half-expected Sayid to follow, knowing he had more respect than to just walk away from someone without warning. Just as he thought, Sayid sat down, saying nothing as he turned to the waters. But he didn't seem to be staring at the horizon, but through it. It was like he was seeing a whole different sky, the sky of a color he liked, that showed him some kind of hope he wanted.

"Are you going back?" Sayid asked suddenly.

One thing Boone noticed is that Sayid wouldn't sit in silence, like some would, letting the conversation drag out to a most unbelievably awkward point. Instead, Sayid would make any excuse to keep the talk going, hardly letting there be a pause of hesitation. It was as though he never savored a moment, let he always seemed sincere when talking to you.

"I don't know," Boone sighed. It was the only truly truthful he could say. "I don't want to."

He sounded like a pouting child, but Boone didn't care. It was the truth. He really didn't want to have anything to do with the hatch, not unless it was for...

Revenge.

But he didn't see how that was possible. Laying back on his elbows, Sayid turned to look at him.

"What did Locke say?" He asked curiously.

Boone shrugged.

"Does it really matter?"

For some reason, this made Sayid smile. But then again, there was always something about independence that made one light up a bit. Sometimes it was the idea of hearing someone do something they could never accomplish themselves, or maybe it just a happiness in seeing someone grow in character. Scratching a mosqieto bite on his neck, Boone glanced up to the sun.

"Shannon used to say I needed to get out more," Boone reminised, "'How can you enjoy life locked up in a room?'"

It'd always been so easy to mock his sister, but his sentence dropped midway, his voice quietening before he could manage to finish. Letting his eyes trail out to sea, Boone found himself lost in the moment, sunk into a wave of memories, only brought out by Sayid's voice:

"She loved you," Sayid said, though he had no reason to. He was also the kind of person who would know what to say, were you to need something said to you. "If not as a boyfriend, then as a brother."

Again Boone sighed. Now that he didn't have the hatch to worry about, his mind was free to be sucked with memory, completly engulfed to the point of which it was hard to take it. The worse part was that he wasn't sure that he was ready to face it yet.

"That never seemed good enough for me," Boone admited, already jumping to his feet, "see ya around."

He walked away, Sayid never questioning him as he subconsiously headed to the jungle. It was only when he was halfway down the path that Boone remembered to turn back, running to the first place he found. Which just happened to be Shannon's grave.

Funny how things worked out that way.

(space)

Though he had every intention to eventually get up and check on Kate, Jack found himself staying by the shore, listening to Charlie play song after song. The waves crashed in a steady tide in front of them, and Jack found it hard to watch it roll in without thinking of...whatever it was...he had found underneath the sea just this morning. The bandages wrapped around his palms were now soggy with sweat, and as Charlie switched to a new song, in which he enitled "Monster In the Trees", (Charlie claimed he wasn't feeling creative at the moment; Jack didn't ask), he picked at the tape wrapped around his hands, examining the dried blood there as Charlie played on.

"Hey, Locke," Charlie greeted.

Glancing up, Jack noticed Locke's silluhete approaching. Locke gave them a smile.

"Hello," he said, returning the greeting.

"So, John," Charlie said. Jack realized what he was going to say a second to late. "Did you hear? Jack here's going to be a dad."

Locke smiled, and Jack's cheeks turned a little red.

"I did hear," Locke said, "and my best wishes to you."

"Thanks," Jack forced out, rolling his eyes at Charlie before turning away.

They were all quiet for a moment, for it looked like Locke had something he wanted to say, though he couldn't quite get it out.

"Can I ask you something, Charlie?" He finally said.

Upon not being spoken to, Jack let his mind drift away, wondering if Kate was awake yet. Still, though, he couldn't help but to overhear.

"Do you think I'm a bad guy?"

Locke asked the question with full sincerity, like he really needed an answer. Hand stopping in midair, a new kind of silence took over as Charlie's eyebrows furrowed, taken aback by not only the question, but at the sudden reapperance Locke.

"Why would I think that?" Charlie replied quickly, covering up his silence.

Not answering, Locke only grinned. Apparently that was all he needed to hear. He stood there for a moment, just smiling in an odd, almost creepy, way.

"Congradulations," he nodded in a goodbye to Jack.

Only a few footsteps later did Charlie think to say anything, just as Jack was letting his mind drift away again. He was surprised at how easily he was able to drift away, how at ease he could be. It was a nice feeling.

"Hey," Charlie said, breaking everyone away from their thoughts. Locke stopped walking away. "How come I never got a congradulations?"

"For what?" Jack asked, before Locke got a chance.

Charlie practically pouted.

"For getting off drugs!" Charlie exclaimed. "I'm clean now!"

Locke smiled again.

"That's so," he commented simply.

"Charlie," Jack began, "you didn't want anyone else to know."

This seemed to sink into Charlie, like a forgotten memory.

"Still," Charlie pouted.

"Did you ever tell Claire?" Locke asked curiously.

Somehow the question reminded Jack of how little Locke had been around lately. Locke, Boone, and Sayid, at that. It was as though they had their own camp elsewhere, maybe tending to a whole other tribe of people. Jack couldn't even begin to imagine the secrets Locke could be keeping.

"Most of it," Charlie admited. His face contorted into guilt in a pause. "Some of it..."

Laughing, Locke gave a nod of goodbye, really leaving this time without another word. Jack turned back to the sea with a half-smile on his face, though somehow he wasn't feeling as relaxed. His mind was working again, and somehow, Jack knew that he wouldn't be able to be as at ease again. Charlie was already going back to playing his guitar when Jack jumped to his feet, not questioning his departure.

"For the record," Jack said before he left, "congradulations."

Charlie stopped for a moment, as if not quite getting what he was saying.

"We were proud," he added.

This time, Charlie's face broke out into a grin.

"Hey," someone greeted behind them. Turning, Charlie and Jack found a smiling Claire approaching. Her smile ceased when she saw that it was Jack Charlie was with. "Hi."

Jack nodded, but didn't bother verbally returning the greeting. Aaron rested in Claire's arms as she stood in silence; for once the child wasn't crying. He couldn't help but to picture Kate in her place, holding their child and being just as protective of it, maybe even more.

"Can you watch Aaron?" She finally asked Charlie, purposfully avoiding Jack.

Charlie frowned, sitting his guitar down carefully in its case.

"Actually, I had something I was going to do," Charlie admited.

"What?" Claire demanded, desperate in her attempts to find someone to watch her son.

"Something..." Charlie insisted, blushing a little.

Jack didn't know if it was in his place, but he felt a little uncomfortable, saying nothing in the conversation, so he spoke up, saying the first thing that came to mind:

"I can watch him," he offered.

Eyes widening, Jack was certain that was the last thing she wanted.

"No," she said quickly, "it's okay. I can wait for Charlie."

"I might be awhile," Charlie pointed out, looking between the two, "besides, he could use the practice."

He couldn't argue with that. It wasn't like they had any parenting books lying around, and Jack hadn't exactly gotten the chance to be the best father with Cat. They really would need all the help they could get, from whomever they could get it from.

"Really, I-"

"He won't bite," Charlie insisted with a sly grin.

Claire looked around, deciding on what to do. Finally she sighed.

"Okay," she agreed relucantly, placing Aaron carefully into Jack's arms. The weight of the baby almost felt like a relief to him, and Jack smiled a little at the sight of the child in his hands. "If you need anything, or if he's hungry, or if he's-"

"Claire," Charlie said tentivily, glancing at her akwardly.

She managed a small smile.

"Just find me," she finished, smiling at Aaron, squeezing his hand before she left.

Soon both Charlie and Claire were gone and, with care, Jack eased back down to the sand. Holding Aaron close, Jack gazed down at the baby in his arms. For the first time, Jack considered that this wouldn't be the worst experience in the would. Who knew. It may actually do them good, having something that really connected them, bringing them together.

(space)

Claire had lied. Well, she was planning on taking a walk, being by herself for a moment or two, but once Charlie mentioned going somewhere, she had to investigate. She followed him to the jungleline, heart beating fast as they crossed a short path into another part of the beach, a more solitary one. Sawyer's camp was somewhere near here, but he wasn't around. She supposed Charlie was grateful for that. As Charlie got down to his knees, Claire leaned back against a tree, closing her eyes as she waited for something to happen. It wasn't as though Charlie wasn't entilted to his privacy- he was- but he rarely ventured off onto his own, from what she knew, especially this far out. She didn't know what she expected to hear, but Claire was admitedly surprised when she heard the beginning of some kind of prayer being begun:

"...it's been six months since my last confession," Charlie was saying, his head bowed slightly to the ground. If it was a confession, she didn't know why Charlie was bowed down like a prayer, but she didn't asked. She had never been the one to understand religion. She assumed it made him simply feel comfortable, especially since apparently he hadn't done anything like this in awhile. "But it's not my fault, honest!" She had to smile at Charlie's wording. "I crashed on this island...I'm sure you know all about that. But I met this girl. And she's nice...really nice. And she has a son...Aaron. I've been help taking care of him, and it's just been weird, you know?" Peering around the tree, Claire saw that Charlie had his hands on his knees now, like he was in a simple, comfortable, conversation. "I just thought I should say something, because it's not so bad...aside from the monster who's out to eat us. But, I mean, other than that, it's been pretty okay."

She slipped away then, deciding she owed Charlie his privacy. Once a safe distance from him, Claire stopped to reflect. Maybe it hadn't really been so bad. What would've happened had she not gotten on the plane? She would've given her baby away or, possibly worse, raised it with no real help whatsover. Here she had more than enough help- the bulk of it from Charlie himself. Maybe he was right. Things hadn't really been so bad for them. Besides, of course, the monster who was out to eat them.

(space)

Night came in slow timing, messing with Jack's mind like the ticking of a clock. He was at the caves now, finally making that stop for water. The second half of the day had been rather uneventful, which Jack was much too grateful for. He'd almost regretted coming to the caves now. At first, Jack thought it'd be a good place to be at some kind of peace with himself, a place full of memories he could have closure with, but all he felt was a haunting feeling. As he refilled yet another bottle of water, Jack tried not to look around the place. Once there, Jack found himself desperatly attempting to put himself somewhere else, not wanting to think about the jungle outside, the cave in which he and Kate used to live in, or the place of residency in general. But when he'd straighten up, Jack couldn't help but to glance around; and in his mind he could still see everyone- Charlie and Claire randomly lounging against a wall, Alex and Danielle keeping to the back corners of the cave. It was all coming alive again, and Jack was having trouble convincing himself that it was real. And he was so desperatly trying to do so that he hadn't heard the footsteps coming behind him, only turning when hearing a familiar sob. A really familiar sob. It caught him in a jolt, and as Jack turned, he found himself expecting the worse. A ghost, maybe, standing there watching him.

But it was only Danielle, hardly able to control her tears as she stood there, more helpless than he'd ever see her; though her gun was still routinely hanging from its strap on her shoulder. She just looked at him, and Jack knew that she was asking something out of him. Help. Closure. Both. Something had brought her back, and Jack remembered to speak at the last moment.

"Danielle?" He asked carefully. Of course, she didn't answer. "Danielle..."

Reaching out to her, Jack immediatly reached for her gun. Somehow, he knew what she was thinking. The gun had always seemed so innocent, as it always sat there, on her arm, but now it had a horrific sense of familiarity about it. Surprisingly, Danielle let Jack take the gun off her shoulders. He sat it aside, bringing his hands back up to her.

"It's okay," he began.

"I..."

Danielle trailed off, breaking into a silent fit of sobs. Jack brought his hands to her shoulders, which were shaking at the effort to cry.

"It's okay," Jack said again. He didn't want to think about what she might've almost done, or the reason she had fled from the camp in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Danielle choked out.

Her eyes danced around in pain, trying to meet Jack's, but failing miserably. She shook under his grip, unable to control her tears. Dejavu hit Jack in a violent wave of memories, and Jack wondered why he was always the one put in this position, always the one people came to for help. Because at the same time, it was always Jack who needed help.

"Don't be sorry," Jack protested, "I'm sorry."

"No-"

Suddenly Jack himself began to shake a little, feeling a need to shout, to let out everything he'd been holding in, things that had built up in his head even after confessing to Kate just days earlier.

"I tried to save her," Jack went on, desperatly wanting Danielle to listen to him. Now he felt like he needed some kind of closure. "I did, and I couldn't. And now...it's done." Glancing around momentarily, Jack could've sworn he heard a guitar in the background, a distant voice trying to speak with him...he shook himself out of it. It was all in his head. Over and over again Jack would tell himself that, determined that someday he'd believe it. "I'm sorry."

A shadow appeared as another figure stepped into the room. Looking up more quickly than he should, Jack again half-expected a ghost to be standing there, for his dreams to mix in with reality. He was almost expecting that to happen. But it was only Locke.

"Sorry," Locke greeted simply.

The word didn't seem to fit in with the conversation that had been going on, though it had been repeated many times. Jack was about to ask him to go, or to at least give them a moment, but before he could, Danielle turned to him, staring at Locke in the same desperate way she had watched Jack. Maybe he wasn't the only one she was seeking closure from. Straightening up, Jack sighed, trying to pull himself together.

"I'm guessing you want to take it from here," he said, part of him feeling like a burden had been taken from him; a strange sense of relief. But really, he knew he didn't feel that way at all. Those kind of feelings never lasted.

Without a goodbye, Jack stepped outside the caves, both forgetting the water and the rifle that was still in his hands. It was only when he was a little ways down the path- now really trying to put his mind someplace else, somewhere where a monster couldn't get to him, or anything else- when he noticed it. Stopping, Jack stared down at the gun in his hands, staring deeply into it, as though he held something he wanted. And badly. It was the same feeling Kate had that morning, and probably a simular one that Danielle felt just moments ago. It was a feeling that could never really be helped, and sometimes not stopped. When one wasn't conscience of oneself, losing themselves in everything they didn't have, everything lost, that feeling of control also became lost.

But luckily, Jack caught himself. Snapping out of it, a range of anger engulfed him as Jack threw the gun to the side, crying out in frustration at what he had been feeling, thinking. It felt like a betrayel, and he was so angry that, before he could catch himself this time, Jack threw his fist into the nearest tree, bringing it back drenched with blood. And all he could think about as he finally walked away, was that this was yet another wound.

(space)

Locke didn't no what to say, at first. He wondered if Danielle was expecting him to mention something in particular, and he wondered what that was. When she just kept watching him, helplessly shaking her head with tears streaming down her face, Locke finally moved to do something. He'd never seen her like this. Even after Alex's death, her version of a breakdown seemed to be just building a silent wall around her. It was up to you to notice if something was wrong. At last he held a hand out to her, approaching her with care.

"I'm sorry..." Danielle whispered in the same way she did to Jack.

Her tone made Locke shiver in the slightest.

"Don't be sorry," Locke said to her, desperation biting at his words. He wanted to really talk to her, tell her everything that had been going on. Telling her that if anyone were at fault, it was he. "If anyone were to be sorry, it's me. If there's one thing I learned today-" he took a deep breath, not realizing, at the time, he was using her needs for his own confession, "it's that things don't turn out the way you want them to. Ever. But somehow, you still live on. You still have to go on. You just have to hope that things'll get better, even though you know they won't-" all through this Danielle had stopped crying, her sobs turning into desperate attempts to speak up. Failed desperate attempts. "And there's no real lesson, there's no real moral of the story. The moral of the story is...that there isn't a moral of the story. And you just have to go on."

At last Danielle's sobs stopped, and her senses seemed to clear up with Locke's last words. She even smiled a little, with a sympathetic touch.

"I'd have never thought I'd meet anyone who hates life as much as I do," Danielle commented lightly.

Locke managed to return her smile.

"And yet we still go on."

Looking down to the ground, Danielle hid her smile as her hair fell into her face, regaining her natural appearance. She stopped shaking, and all seemed calm again.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Locke offered hopefully, the quite atmosphere of the abandoned caves getting to him. He felt as though he were in a place of haunting, some kind of graveyard of spirits. He'd come here with every note of the silence that it would contain, but now he felt as though he needed to run from it. Run away to some other place, somewhere that would portray a more positive vibe. Yet, at the same time, the emptyness of the caves seemed filled with second chances, a new beginning. Now he couldn't decide if he wanted to leave or not.

Luckily, Danielle decided that for him. Without warning she began to walk around the caves, slowly recapturing memories of each spot, before finally stopping at a corner in the back. She sank down to the floor, just sitting there for a moment. Locke contemplated sitting next to her, finally settling for resting by the wall nearest to her.

"It's funny," Locke spoke up after a thoughtful pause, "you don't seem afraid of it."

Danielle looked up at him, a curious expression upon her face.

"Why would I be afraid of it?" She asked him, sounding amused.

Instead of replying, Locke could only sit there, studying her face with curiosity, pondering her reasoning. Only now could Locke admit that he was afraid of the thing, only because he knew there was no control over it. Callum had been right, without control, there would only be chaos. With that thought he leaned his head back against the walls, letting himself take in the unfamiliar sound of the jungle and waterfall, wanting more than ever to have some kind of time machine, something that could take back all his mistakes. Sitting here with Danielle and talking to Jack reminded him of everything they caused, or at least couldn't help. He hated it, and now, more than ever, he wanted some kind of second chance. A clean slate.

(space)

Jack hurried down the path back to the beach, mind reeling with anger. How could he go back to Kate and tell her that he considered doing the same thing he'd stopped her from doing just this morning? But as much as he didn't want to face the confession, he didn't want to stay in the jungle either. He assumed he wouldn't be interrupted on the path, so he hurried at his own pace, but once again his assumptions proved him wrong. He just missed knocking over a figure on the path, and by the glasses Jack knew it was Sebastian. Furrowing his eyebrows, Jack stepped back. Sebastian never came to the caves when nearly everyone lived there, let alone in the dark when it was known to be vacant.

"Sorry," Sebastian offered nervously.

"No problem," Jack shrugged, expecting the man to continue to wherever it was he was headed to. Sebastian didn't budge. Jack began to think that he'd come looking for him. "Need something?"

"I was just going to say..." Sebastian began uncertainly. "I know what it's like to feel like you have to protect someone. And it's not a wrong thing." He glanced in the direction the beach was in. "Look, Michelle wouldn't even be asleep right now. She's trying to get to sleep, spending hours just looking at nothing, like she's done for almost a year now. Or it feels like a year."

Jack looked at him quizzically, unsure of what he was getting at.

"You can't tell Michelle I told you this," Sebastian sighed, "or anyone. But it hasn't been an easy eight months for us."

"Eight months?" Jack inquired. "We've only been on the island for six."

Sebastian nodded.

"The protective feeling came eight months ago," Sebastian started, "we've been on the run." Jack raised an eyebrow.

"From who?" He wondered outloud.

He hadn't expected the answer, but he didn't question Sebastian as he sighed again before continuing. Sebastian clearly needed to say some kind of confession. That's why he wondered out here in the jungle- the place he obviously feared going most.

"We haven't had the best of relationships," he began, "actually, we kind of split up awhile back...not permanitly, but I guessed I missed something, because she started seeing this guy; and she didn't believe anyone who said he was no good. I had no idea what was going on, until one night it just stopped." Suddenly Sebastian looked up at Jack, meeting eyes with him. Somehow, Jack knew he didn't want to hear what he had to say next. "He beat her up, Jack. Badly. She...she practically couldn't function for days. She's been scarred ever since." Sebastian sighed again, letting out a long breath before mustering the strength to go on. Jack felt bad for the man, who'd clearly had no one to lay this onto for the longest time. "It's a long story, but the bottom line is...I know what it's like to feel like you always have to be there for someone, and like I said, it's not a bad thing. Don't pay attention to what anyone else has to say."

He let Jack have a moment to take this in. The support seemed a little odd- everyone had always told him he was too commited, and as well too protective- and it was, in a way, relieving, to see someone who agreed with his way of living. Really, it wasn't something he could help. He could either help out or feel guilty about not doing anything.

"See you around," Sebastian said, cutting into his thoughts. With a nod he left, leaving Jack to further ponder what he'd said, really not understanding his meaning until he was finally back to his camp, and found Kate waiting up for him.

"You finally got that water," she noted with a smile. The bag from his shoulders dropped, the weight of it having been completly absent from his mind.

Jack nodded.

"Yeah."

Kate raised an eyebrow, amused.

"You okay?"

Jack glanced around, really considering his answer before again replying:

"Yeah."

(space)

You said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down

I'm gonna put it six feet underground

You said I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall

Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls

He was back in the caves. Jack couldn't remember going back, but he was in the caves, walking out, in fact, of the one he and Kate used to share. Confused, Jack stepped out into the open area of the caves, looking around.

A coffin sat in the center of the open space.

As Jack crept closer, he realized that he knew this place. This dream. He'd had it before. Walking forward, Jack knew to expect Kate's body in his father's coffin even before he approached it. For the longest moment Jack stood there, looking down at the body. Even though it was a reaccuring dream, and Jack knew what to expect, he began to wonder why he actually expected it. Maybe Rose was right. He did need to have some faith.

"I'm sorry you had to see this again."

Jumping at Locke's voice, Jack turned around. This wasn't part of his dream before.

"What is this?" Jack asked, looking from Locke to the coffin in horror. "A warning?"

"Yes it is."

Jack turned. When he looked a second time, Locke was no longer Locke. Locke and his voice had changed to Alex, standing there, smiling at him. Why was everyone smiling now? She looked happy, pleased. Jack couldn't understand it.

"Hey," she said sweetly, stepping forward.

He wasn't sure how to react. Before in his dreams, Alex went right on to some accusation, dismissing him before he even got a chance to defend himself.

"It's okay," Alex assured him, bringing a hand to his, "you'll be okay." Bringing her hand down, she offered him a sympathetic smile. "Just take care of her, okay?"

Jack looked back down to the coffin. Now Kate's body looked blured, not all there. But like all bodies in coffins, there was something peaceful about her. She was finally getting her peace.

Oh I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire

Stand here until I fill all your heart's desires

Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn

Do back the things it did to you in return

Before Jack could get a chance to answer, Alex disapeared and he found himself waking to a jolt. There was a silent unanimous decison made that night to build one fire, and have everyone sleep around it. Jack and Kate had joined, rather relucantly, at last minute. No one protested. Across from him, Sayid stared blankly into the fire in front of them, glancing as Jack woke to a rough start. A thick black sky loomed above them, and Jack knew that had many more hours to go until the sun came up. He also knew that there was no way he'd be getting back to sleep. Theoritically, he assumed he could sleep peacefully now, but there was something he had to do first.

"Kate," he whispered, shaking Kate awake.

Only feeling partially guilty for awakening her, Jack ignored her groans as she was forced awake. She looked up at him, confused, as though for a moment she didn't know who he was.

"Jack?" She asked uncertainly.

"There's something I have to do," he explained quickly. Across from them, Sayid was willingly ignoring their conversation.

"What's going on?" She demanded, sitting up.

Holding a hand to her shoulder, Jack looked Kate in the eye, hoping she would to understand without having to dive into a deep explination.

"I need you to come with me," he pleaded quietly, searching her eyes.

Kate studied him for a long moment, before finally nodding her head.

"Okay," she agreed. Immediatly Jack jumped up. "Jack, what's going on?"

Even as he led her a little ways into the jungle she still questioned him, glancing around nervously to the bushes and darkness that held things they would've never imagined impossible a year ago. But nevertheless she followed, leaving Jack to it as he determinly tore through the jungle.

(space)

Back at the beach, Charlie and Hurley desperatly tried to calm down Aaron, who was crying madly. Charlie was trying to sing him back to sleep, but nothing seemed to work. Claire was back up the beach where everyone was staying, Charlie having said that he could handle it. Thank God Hurley had volunteered to come along...even if he wasn't willing to give up his duty.

"Just let me see him!" Hurley begged, whining like a child as he tried to reach out for the baby.

Charlie immediatly jerked away, which only made Aaron cry harder.

"And just to think," Charlie muttered bitterly, "we'll have two of you in a few months."

Hurley just smiled.

"I saw it coming."

Glaring at him, Charlie turned his attention back to calming down Aaron, Hurley still begging to help.

He said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war

If you can tell me something worth fighting for

Oh and I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said

Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

Back at the fire, Sayid had been staring so intensly into nothing that he didn't notice Sun approaching until she spoke out to him, causing him to jump.

"I'm sorry," she appologized, "I was just wondering...about Jin's watch."

The ground seemed to shift underneath his feet as Sayid sat up, face contorting into sympathy. Being asked if he could fix Jin's broken watched felt like ages ago, maybe apart of a whole other era. Afte all that had happened today, Sayid couldn't even remember when exactly she had asked him about fixing it. But he did remember that he had indeed manage to bring the clock back to life, and had placed it for safe keeping inside his bag.

"Of course," Sayid said, reaching into his backpack that he had with him.

Handing the piece of jewlrey to her, carefully placing it in Sun's hand, a smile crept across her face as she slipped it around her wrist. Suddenly, Sayid felt a strong sense of admiration towards her, for being so strong throughout all this. That had been one thing Sayid had to relucantly agreed to Mitchell on, and he himself felt his own guilt about it.

The thank-you went mutually agreed on, unspoken, and Sun walked away, clearly in a happier state than before.

And honey all the movements you're starting to make

See me crumble and fall on my face

And I know the mistakes that I made

See it all disappear without a trace

And they call as they beckon you on

They said start as you mean to go on

Start as you mean to go on

"You couldn't sleep either?" Sawyer guessed as Rebecca sat down next to him. She shook her head, laying it on his shoulder. "I hate that."

Lifting her head, she looked up at him, wounded.

"I hated when people put their heads on my shoulder," he grumbled, "whatever happened to that bubble you're supposed to have around you?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes.

"Come on," she said, "you don't believe in that stuff."

"No," Sawyer agreed with a huff, "but I don't want your damn head on my shoulder."

With an exsaperated sigh Rebecca dropped her head. She was tired but she couldn't sleep, and after nearly hours of tossing in turning, she finally gave up.

"Do you want to talk?" She offered hopefully.

"And I hate heart-to-hearts," Sawyer grumbled, dismissing the idea.

"You're impossible," Rebecca complained, resting her head on her hands, which still felt slightly sore from her kidnapping experience. She knew they shouldn't be, and blamed it on the shock that came with the experience. Even though she knew that Daniel guy was no good, everytime she saw him being shot in her head, her hearty still leapt with doubt.

"You're the one that came to me," Sawyer pointed out. He stood up at the comment.

"And now you're deserting me?" Rebecca said incrediously.

"It's late."

She sighed. There was really no understanding him. But Rebecca really didn't want the burden of having to try and go to sleep, so when Sawyer laid down at their camp, she asked with half-hearted wonder.

"What are you doing?"

He was clearly annoyed with her, and she wondered to herself if he had maybe had something to drink. Even Sawyer was never this dismissive of her.

"In nine months Jack and Kate are going to have their own little kid from hell," Sawyer replied bitterly.

"So?" Rebecca demanded, crossing her arms.

"So," Sawyer remarked, "I'm going to go to sleep and hope this is all a dream."

Laying down next to him, Rebecca hesitated, pausing before daring to close her eyes in attempts to sleep.

"You don't really hope this is all a dream, do you?" She asked him nervously.

A moment passed before Sawyer finally replied tiredly:

"No."

He said I'm gonna buy this place and see it go

Stand here beside my baby watch the orange glow

Some'll laugh and some just sit and cry

You just sit down there and you wonder why

In the caves, Danielle and Locke sat in silence, Locke staring at the waterfall, still wondering to himself what he was supposed to say.

"Where'd you go?" He finally asked. "When you left here?"

Danielle was quiet for awhile, before she finally replied with a weary smile:

"The same place I always go."

Leaving it at that, Locke studied her for a moment before looking away, left to draw his own conclusions. He wondered if Danielle knew about the hatch or anything more than the answer. And it admitely creeped him out to know that Danielle could know even more about the island he did. After all, they had only been there for six months. She had been there for sixteen years.

So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war

If you can tell me something worth fighting for

Down the hatch, Callum was busy shutting everything down. He didn't sit around waiting for Locke or any of them, wondering if they'd ever return. Going with his own instinct, Callum did a complete shutdown to everything in the hatch, ending with the lights.

And I'm gonna buy this place is what I said

Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

At the beach, Sebastian set down carefully, looking to see if Michelle was, by chance, asleep. He saw that her eyes were closed, but that didn't mean anything. Sighing, Sebastian pulled a blanket over her shoulders, hoping he hadn't made a mistake by confessing to Jack. He did share the man's need for protection, but they could both understand that it really wasn't out of a need. It was out of love.

Oh to the head

He did take a few personal things, including food, with him, but abandoned the place with only two simple pats to the inside door before closing it. For good.

And honey all the movements you're starting to make

See me crumble and fall on my face

And I know the mistakes that I made

See it all disappear without a trace

And they call as they beckon you on

They say start as you mean to go on

As you mean to go on, as you mean to go on

After his meeting with Sun, Sayid felt a sudden need to go back to his tent...his old tent. The one he hadn't slept in in almost more than a week- the one he had shared with Shannon. But he wasn't the only one there. Standing around, gazing around at all of Shannon's old stuff. When Sayid entered Boone met eyes with them, and they both knew that they this was the time they had to deal with this.

"So which half do you want to keep?" Boone asked jokingly.

Sayid offered him a half-smile, but just then Boone's eyes fell on something laying on one of the boxes: a journal. His eyes turned up to Sayid quickly, and he placed the book in his bag without a word, as if hoping the quickness would make the moment disapear.

"Maybe tomorrow," he shrugged, meaning that sometime other than now they would go through everything.

Turning, Boone fled into the jungle, never looking back until he reached Shannon's grave again. He'd sat there for hours earlier, turning away only when it grew dark. Coward, he thought bitterly.Sitting the journal on the grave, Boone let his mind go blank as he gazed at the makeshift gravestone, wondering how things would've been different back home. He could've afforded better, he knew that much. They would've had some kind of fancy funeral reception, and Shannon would've been buried in a true cemetary.

Then again, back home, she probably wouldn't of died. Maybe.

Just then the trees rustled, and without considering what or who it may be, Boone turned and ran, leaving the journal at its place on the grave, right above the markings for 'rest in peace'.

(space)

Just as Boone left, Jack and Kate approached their mini-graveyard. Jack's father was buried not too far away, but that wasn't why he chose to come here tonight- not that he never visited the grave. The dream had been a warning, he decided, but it had also had a message. Maybe things would be okay, could be okay. He could believe that. In time.

"You sure you want to be here?" Kate asked, shivering slightly in the cold.

There was always something about graveyards, Jack decided, that made you feel chilly, even when it was warm out. There was something about being there that made you feel that you were in a different time, like nothing or nowhere else mattered except for where you were right now.

Jack nodded.

"Yeah."

He stared at the grave, in his head saying everything he probably would've said outloud, had Kate not been there. Though he knew she wouldn't of minded it, even would've been supportive, Jack wanted to keep a part of this closure to himself. For oldtimes sake. So in his head he said everything, again: how he was sorry he couldn't save her, though he knew she wanted to be let go. He couldn't understand that, but he knew that's what she'd wanted. And that's what happened.

"How about 'Alex'?" Kate asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

Jack turned to her.

"A little early to be thinking about names," he commented, laughing dryly. Hearing the name made him shudder, speaking that he was standing over that very person's grave.

Kate shrugged, not replying, though still looking for him to answer. Jack sighed.

"Not after anyone here," he said at last, "that would be too awkward."

"And I was so shooting for 'Sawyer'," Kate teased, looking up to him as she rolled her eyes.

Smiling, Jack stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, ripped at the knees from more island experiences than he could recall in one thought. He gazed back down at the grave, but for some reason he couldn't wrap his mind around it again. It chose to wonder, sending his thoughts to other places and people. Maybe this wasn't the right time. Maybe he should've came alone.

"Okay, let's go," Jack said suddenly, already walking away.

Kate grabbed his arm, stopping him with a look of concern ready on her face.

"Are you sure?" She inquired, studying him quizzically.

Jack fully stopped, looking down at Kate.

"It's okay," he told her, the words coming out of him without much thought.

Turning her kneck sideways, as if to get a better look at him, Kate looked at him, confused.

"What?" She asked, but was interrupted.

A rustling had started in the trees. And not a human rustling. In the back of his mind, Jack knew what was going to come next, but he didn't want to believe it. Grabbing Kate's arm, Jack broke into a run, dragging her behind. No way was this going to happen again. No way.

"Jack!" Kate screamed.

He turned. She had been caught in some kind of hole. How had he missed it? He demanded in his mind. Diving for her, Jack grabbed Kate's hand, but the ground shook in protest with him. It was a scene Jack knew only too well, and had it not been for that, Jack further wouldn't of been able to wrap his mind around the concept of what was happening. It was happening too fast. Too fast. Yet he knew he should be used to it. Though his mind was reeling with anger, pain, in a desperate need to just save someone- just this once- Jack still couldn't miss Kate's face, filled with more fear and terror that he could ever have. Whatever he was feeling, she was experiencing twice as much. Desperatly she clutched his hand, crying out in pain at her attempts to get back to solid ground. Out of fear, or maybe even curiosity, she franticially looked betweent the darkness below her and Jack, her tear-streaked face making him pull even harder. In his mind she was already pulled out, and they were hugging, just like after the cave-in, rejoicing at being together again.

So meet me by the bridge,

Oh meet me by the lane

When am I going to see

That pretty face again

But the thought seemed to do nothing but make the monster want to rip them apart. Jack found his strength useless as there was a loud roar, louder than he had heard with his past experiences with the monster. The effect threw him to the side, sending him flying against a tree. Pain shot through his body, blood emerging at once in drops at the skin on his arms. But he ignored that.

Her screams echoed in his mind as Jack pushed himself off the tree, screaming at the top of his lunges. But already she felt far away...and it was all still happening too fast. But still he screamed. He shouted, repeating her name over and over again, because it was the only hope he had. He could at least depend on the fact that someone would hear him, but as dust swriled around him, feeling as though it were engulfing him, Jack could hear nothing but his own screams of everything of terror, pain, and suffering. But still he yelled. He had no faith whatsover, Jack was ready to admit that by now. He even wondered if he was being punished because of that. But he was even ready to drop on his knees, do anything, that would change this.

Meet me on the road

Yeah, meet me where I said

Blame it all upon

A rush of blood to the head

But right now, all he could do was yell.

Author's Note: Okay. Don't panic. Don't pain. Read it until the end. Read it until the end. Some words of advice, there:) I'll say now that there's only a few chapters left. But read it until the end. Anyway, thanks for the reviews! You guys rock!

Coming up, on "In the End":

I ain't sayin' a word.

Thanks again!

Until next time...