I hope everyone is enjoying reading this, as much as I am enjoying writing it! I am really falling in love with this story as I continue to plan and write it. . . I hope you all enjoy Chapter Five! As always, I love hearing any comments or suggestions!
Jack pulled away slowly, kissing her quickly again once on her lips, and then on her forehead. He was almost afraid to pull away, and to look into her eyes. He didn't know what her reaction would be.
Finally glancing at her, Jack saw that Kate was smiling at him. Returning the smile, he leaned down to kiss her again. He was surprised when instead of making contact with her lips, his kiss landed on her cheek.
"Jack," Kate whispered, with a shake of her head. She slowly scooted farther away from him on the couch. "We can't. You know we can't." The apologetic look on her face was almost worse than the words that came from her mouth.
Jack opened his mouth, then shut it, not finding the right words to say. He sighed and scooted closer to her, following her path down the couch. "What do you mean we can't?" He reached out for her, but she quickly stood up, dodging his touch.
"I don't know how long I'll be here," Kate sounded panicky, and she gestured wildly with her hands. "This isn't for good, Jack. It's just. . . I just wanted to see you." Her voice cracked and she stopped speaking, too afraid of where her emotions would take her.
Jack rose as well, looking both hurt and angry. "Kate, I know. . . I know that's not all you want. It sure as hell isn't all I want --"
"It doesn't matter what we want!" Kate interrupted fiercely as, without permission, a single tear slipped down her cheek. "We can't have anything, nothing can happen between us. I'm going to have to go soon, Jack! I will not play with my emotions like that. I can't. . ." She paused, feeling as she was saying too much. "I can't afford to make connections like that. Nothing real could come of us."
"That kiss felt real to me," Jack scoffed, understanding what she was saying, but not wanting to accept that she spoke the truth. "What do you want, Kate? Just for us to pretend it didn't happen?"
Kate nodded, "Yes. It's what we have to do." He glanced away in anger as she spoke again. "When that plane went down, Jack, when I stepped on that raft to leave the island, I died. I don't even know how to be with someone anymore." Her voice caught in her throat, and she spoke the words she knew he didn't want to hear.
"I'm sorry, Jack."
"Yeah, Kate," he muttered. "Me too." Refusing to look at her, Jack made his way over to the liquor cabinet. Pouring himself a drink, he kept his back to her and his eyes on the wall. After a full two minutes of heavy silence, Kate finally spoke.
"I think I'd better head up to bed now."
"That's probably a good idea," Jack nodded, but still didn't glance in her direction. "'Night, Kate."
"'Night, Jack," Kate whispered as she slowly made her way up the stairs. As she reached the top, she turned and glanced back down. Jack stood, forlornly staring into his liquor. She wanted nothing more than to rush back down the stairs, taking two at a time, and throw her arms around him.
But she didn't.
As Kate undressed and pulled on an old t-shirt she had found in the back of the closet, she couldn't help but feel more alone than she had in a long time. She had finally gotten what she wanted, only to throw it away. Burying her head into the soft white pillow, Kate cried until the blackness of sleep finally overtook her.
When she awoke the next morning Kate seriously considered staying in bed until she was sure Jack had left, and then moving on. But she didn't have a plan of where to go, and she didn't want to leave things a mess between them. Crawling out bed she put on Jack's robe and went downstairs.
Jack was sitting in the kitchen, staring into a cup of coffee. The dress pants and nice shirt he wore led Kate to believe he'd soon be leaving for work. "Hey," she said softly, taking a seat on the stool next to him. He didn't respond at first, and she glanced down at her hands.
"I was thinking maybe I should head out today. I don't want to wear out my welcome," Kate's voice was barely above a whisper. She glanced up at him, expectantly.
Jack didn't look at her as he spoke. "If you really want to go, I can't stop you, Kate." He stood and walked to the sink, pouring what was left of his coffee down the drain. "But your welcome isn't worn out. If this is about last night. . ." His voice trailed off, and he finally looked at her.
"I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have taken advantage of this situation," Jack said. A small smile lit up his face. "I guess I just couldn't help myself."
Kate laughed, and shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I wanted it too." They smiled at each other silently for several minutes, and something inside her told Kate that things were going to be okay between them.
The next two weeks were spent actually getting to know each other. Kate realized that if they were able to manage to set all the sexual tension aside (which, thankfully, they had been) there were the makings of a deep friendship between them. Learning the most trivial details about each other was what had become important to them. It was easy not to be think solely about making out with someone when you were much more focused on actually becoming friends with them. Although, from time to time, Jack still had to remind himself not to find everything she did sexy.
One of the first facts they shared with each other were their ages. Kate wasn't surprised to find that Jack, at 39, was 12 years her senior. This, however, seemed to disturb Jack on several various levels, which amused Kate to no end.
"You know," Jack spoke up one night at dinner, in the middle of a conversation about whether or not the merits of having a real Christmas tree outweighed the extra work they caused (Kate argued that yes, having a real Christmas tree in the house was well worth it, while Jack wasn't so sure). "If I had been the promiscuous type who was interested in older women, I would technically be old enough to be your father."
Kate's only response had been a roll of her eyes and a slightly stifled giggle. It was one topic he just would not let go.
Other little things became important, too. Jack's favorite color was blue; Kate's was yellow. Jack liked the thermostat set low; Kate got cold easy. Jack threw everything into the washer at one time, while Kate was obsessive about separating items. She had fixed her "special-recipe" vegetarian lasagna twice, and each time Jack ate as much as he could, pretending to like it.
Kate refused to use the dishwasher, always washing each and every dish by hand in a sink full of bubbles. To Jack's delight this had more than once turned into a competition of who could throw more bubbles on the other one, leaving his kitchen in a wet disarray, and both of them soaked and giddy with laughter.
On the mornings he had to be to work early, she was up before he left, fixing him coffee and wishing him well before he rushed out the door. Nights when Jack had to work late, Kate would try her best to wait up for him, but he'd always return home to find her asleep on the couch, practically buried under a blanket. The first thing she'd always mumble after he awoke her was, "I almost made it this time." He'd assure her it was the thought that counted, before walking her upstairs to her bedroom and telling her good-night.
They had become almost ridiculously comfortable with each other. Jack had more than once walked around in nothing but his boxers (Kate never complained about this behavior, instead she egged it on with frequent catcalls), and less than a week into her visit, she had smiled sweetly at him, and requested, "Do you think you could please pick up some tampons on your way home?" He hadn't even tossed her an aggravated look, just nodded silently and returned that night with what she had asked for.
Both Kate and Jack were smart enough to realize the possible implications that rose from the tight bond they were forming, but neither were brave enough to dwell on them or talk about them. Instead, they both ignored the predicament they were digging themselves deeper and deeper into on a daily basis and acted as though there was nothing odd at all about the situation they were in.
Jack showed up home from work one afternoon with a bag of groceries in each arm. Kate met him at the door, "You didn't tell me you were stopping by the store. I would've made a list out this morning!"
"I wasn't planning on stopping by the grocery," Jack handed off a bag to her and they both walked towards the kitchen. "My mom called me at work to tell me she was coming over for dinner. She said she had something to give me, so now I have," he paused and checked his watch, "an hour to get cleaned up and make dinner."
"I'll make dinner," Kate offered quickly. She smirked, "And I'll hide upstairs while you two eat dinner. Maybe a good movie will be on television."
Jack laughed softly, "I've never hid a girl from my mom before." He tried to make his voice light and teasing, but she noticed it was strained. She smiled sympathetically as his brow wrinkled in stress, "Bad day at work?"
Jack sighed, nodding slightly. "We had a long surgery. A little girl, she was seven, I think. . . She was playing outside, jumping into leaves her dad had just raked. Teenage kid hit her, he was going about fifty. She'll be okay, but she won't walk again."
Tears filled her eyes and she began to trace the outline of the counter. "Oh, Jack, that's terrible," she didn't know what to say. "At least she's alive. . ."
Jack was quiet for a few moments, then nodded shortly. "I need to go change." Kate was trying to decide whether or not to follow him when she heard the liquor cabinet slam, the sound of a glass breaking, and Jack hissing, "Shit."
Kate sighed, slowly walking into the living room. He was on his knees picking up hunks of glass. "Hey, stop," she said softly, kneeling next to him. "Go take a shower, okay? I'll clean this up. I'll make dinner. Maybe your mom will like my vegetarian lasagna as much as you do."
Jack couldn't help a small smile from forming as he glanced over at her. Maybe he should have been a little more honest with her about her lasagna. But she was smiling so warmly, and she looked so caring that all he could do was nod. "Thanks, Kate. That sounds great."
As Jack went upstairs Kate quickly cleaned the liquid and glass off the floor, and then went to the kitchen to prepare her lasagna. She moved quickly, trying to get everything just right but not waste time. While the oven was preheating Kate quickly set two places at the dining room table with Jack's best china. Just as she was popping the lasagna into the oven, a voice behind her spoke, "Oh, my."
Kate whirled around. An older woman with dark hair was standing in front of her, a large box in her arms. Even if she hadn't known Jack was expecting his mom that night, she would have inferred on her own that his woman was certainly his mother, simply by his vague resemblance to her.
"Hello," Kate spoke quietly, removing the potholder from her hand, and setting it down on the counter. "I'm --," she was at a loss for what to say. "I'm --"
Jack's mother sat down the box with a thud. She dusted her hands off and turned back to Kate. Crossing her arms, she spoke, "Hello, Katherine."
Kate was shocked. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Struggling to say something, anything, she tried to speak again, but only succeeded in emitting a small strangled sound.
Mrs. Shepard glanced quickly into the dining room, then back to Kate. "Table's only set for two. What were you planning on doing, sweetheart, hiding upstairs?" Her words weren't mean, but Kate noticed a faint sarcastic tone. "I knew something was up with him. From the second he got back, and I asked him about you, I knew that something was off."
She seemed to be having a conversation with herself, but she glanced at Kate as she spoke. "He thinks he's good at hiding his emotions but he's not."
Exiting the kitchen and standing at the bottom of the stairs, Jack's mother yelled up them, "Jack Shepard! What in the hell do you think your doing?"
Jack appeared quickly, his gaze darting back and forth from his mom to Kate. "Mom, this is--"
"I know who the hell she is, Jack!" his mother stared at him, her voice laced in annoyance. "I knew when I asked you if you'd taken care of that prisoner before she died. . . that look on your face, Jack!" She turned back to Kate, "I knew you weren't dead. I thought something had happened between you two on that island. Jack's always been a bad liar."
"But to hide her here," she continued on, now focused again on Jack. "Just thank your lucky stars, Jack Shepard, that those federal agents were dumber than your mother."
Kate stared at Jack, panicked. Jack cleared his throat, and gave Kate his full attention. "Kate, would you mind on waiting upstairs while I talk to my mother?"
Kate nodded, not glancing at either of them as she quickly made her way upstairs. When she reached the top, she veered to the right and took a seat on the floor, out of eyesight, but close enough to where she could still hear their conversation.
"Are you insane, Jack?" Mrs. Shepard demanded. "As if lying for her wasn't bad enough, you're hiding her in your house? Do you realize what you're risking?"
"They think she's dead, Mom," Jack spat out. "They're not going to come here, knocking on my door, looking for her. Besides, this isn't permanent. Can you imagine how hard things are for her?"
"Anyone could've seen her come here! Is some fling with a felon worth jeopardizing your life? You worked so hard to get where you are, Jack. You're leading a nice life. You have a good job. Do you want to throw that all away?"
"We're not having a fling," Jack said, clearly aggravated. He took a step towards his mother, glowering down at her. "And don't talk about her like you know her. I'm not throwing anything away. Mom, you can't call anyone, you can't --"
"Oh, what would I say?" she interrupted him icily. "Excuse me, my son is harboring a fugitive. I don't think so, Jack. You were so hard on your father about everything he did, and now you --" She cut herself off, seemingly thinking better of what she had been about to say.
Shaking her head, it was obvious she'd given up the fight. "Damn it, Jack. I don't know why you couldn't just have brought girls home and hid them when you were fifteen. Got it out of your system then. . ."
Jack laughed a little, mostly out of relief, and then turned back to the stairs. "It's okay, Kate. You can stop listening, and come on back down now."
Kate slowly descended the stairs, her face crimson because he knew her so well, but still mainly keeping her eyes focused on him. No one was supposed to know who she was, what she had done anymore. She hadn't counted on someone coming in, knocking her new existence off kilter.
"Kate," Jack said softly, gesturing towards his mother. "This is my mom, Margaret Shepard."
"Margo," she told Kate, glancing her over quickly, then extending her hand.
Kate took it, surprised by how strong the woman's grip was. "Kate Austen," she returned, as though the woman already didn't know her name.
Still under Margo's watchful gaze, Kate quickly smoothed down the front of the blue sweater she was wearing. "Nice to see you got some use of out Sarah's clothes finally, Jack. Guess you were right about not giving them away." She turned quickly back to Kate, not giving Jack a chance to respond, "Darling, go set a third place at the table. There's no use in you sitting upstairs alone while Jack and I eat."
As Kate quickly scurried to do what she had been ordered, Margo handed Jack the box. "Your dad's old record player. I was looking in the attic yesterday, and I remembered how much you used to love messing around with it when you were little. There's some records in the box, too. I don't know if they're anything you'd be interested in, but I thought you just might like to have it. Sentimental value, if nothing else."
Jack stared down into the box, remaining silent for several moments, as if absorbed by some past memory. Finally he spoke, "Thanks, Mom. I hadn't thought about this old player in a long time." He looked at her, and they seemed to speak with their eyes, conveying more emotion than a physical display of affection would have.
Kate watched the exchange curiously. Jack had barely mentioned his father; he had told Kate about his death on the island, and he had spoken of him off-handedly in passing during her few weeks stay. The look on his face let Kate know how much that old record player meant to him. Was it simply because it had been his father's? Deciding not to let curiosity get the best of her, Kate headed back to the kitchen, checking on the lasagna.
"I think it's about done." When neither responded she took the lasagna out of the oven, turned it off, and went to the refrigerator to get out the salad she had prepared earlier in the day.
"I'm getting a drink," Jack said, heading into the living room. "Either of you want anything?"
"Why don't you get a bottle of wine, Jack?" Margo requested, picking up the salad and heading towards the dining room. "You don't need to drink whiskey with dinner." Kate stared at Margo startled, and Margo shot her a knowing glance. Her last statement was something Kate had thought, but never spoken, nearly every night at dinner.
"He never has any good dressing," Margo muttered, casting an annoyed glance in Kate's direction. "Just Ranch, and I can't stand that. But will he budge, and buy anything else for his mother? No."
"I, uh," Kate cleared her throat and opened the door to the refrigerator once again. "I had him buy some Italian. . ." Her voice trailed off.
"Well, it's nice to see someone has some taste around here," reaching into the open door, Margo grabbed the bottle before heading back into the dining room.
The first several minutes of dinner was tense, none of the three saying a word. Kate chewed in silence, wondering why Jack got such a funny look on his face every time he took a bite of lasagna. She noticed how every few minutes Margo would look up from her plate and glance back and forth from Jack to Kate.
"So what happened between the two of you on that island?"
Kate glanced up quickly, seeing that Margo was looking at her. She then looked to Jack, waiting for him to answer his mother.
He swallowed the bite of lasagna in his mouth, with difficulty, then spoke, "We were just friends, Mom."
"I wasn't asking you, Jack," Margo lectured. She looked at Kate, once again, "Katherine, what happened between you two on that island?"
Kate looked back down at her plate, "What he said is true. We were just friends, we're still just friends. Nothing happened."
Margo nodded, a bemused expression on her face. "Right. So then why did you pick Jack to pay a visit to? Or, is he just the first on your list of many little pit-stops." She smiled at Kate as if they were sharing a secret. "I saw those other castaways that stepped off that boat. There was one other man who was pretty good looking." She looked over at Jack, "What was his name? The one with the long blonde hair."
Kate choked on the wine she was sipping and coughed loudly, covering her mouth. Jack didn't make any effort to see if she was okay, just glared at his mom who was smiling at Kate knowingly. "Guess I'm not the only one who thought he was cute, huh darling?"
Composing herself, Kate smiled at Margo earnestly. "I came to see Jack because he was a good friend to me. I was close to him, and I just wanted to see someone who knew me. I just wanted to show I was thankful for what he did for me." She smiled softly at Jack, and finished off her wine. "I think I'm done with dinner now, you two enjoy yourselves."
Picking up her glass and plate, Kate dropped them off in the kitchen and then headed upstairs. Jack and Margo finished their dinner in silence.
When Kate was sure Margo had gone, she returned downstairs to find Jack going through the records his mother had left. She sat on the couch opposite of him, "Anything good in there?"
Jack smiled over at her, "Bunch of old stuff. Apparently my dad was a big Willie Nelson fan. I didn't remember that." He laughed and went back to sorting through the records.
"My dad used to listen to Willie Nelson all the time," Kate said wistfully. Momentarily she allowed herself to dig back into her very distant past, so distant that things were still good in the memories of it. Coming back to reality, she noticed Jack was placing the needle on a record. "You find one you want to listen to?"
"Just thought you might like a little trip down memory lane," Jack said softly, as country music began to twang out of the speakers. "Can't say I actually know any of his songs though. . ."
Kate sighed as the familiar lyrics to 'Are You Sure' by Willie Nelson floated around her. Part of her thought he had almost picked this song on purpose, regardless of what he had told her, but the shadow that passed over his face after he digested what the lyrics were saying told her otherwise.
He cast her a forlorn glance, and she had to glance away. She wanted to say something to assure him that right here was exactly where she wanted to be. Struggling with a battle that she had been fighting since she arrived, Kate finally told him the truth, "The reason I gave you for why I showed up here wasn't completely honest."
She took a deep breath, "I came here because I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard I tried. I came here because this," she gestured around, "is exactly how I envisioned things between us. But most of all. . ." she paused and swallowed hard, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eyes.
"Most of all, I came because you said you'd miss me." Her throat was so tight, she could no longer speak about a whisper, "And I really hoped you did."
Jack didn't look at her. He was too afraid. Afraid of what would happen if he looked into her eyes, afraid that the control he'd been able to keep on his feelings would collapse beneath him, afraid that if he touched her, loved her, he'd never stop.
After a few moments of tense silence, Kate muttered a broken, "yeah," and went upstairs not glancing back.
Jack was able to sit there, pretending what she had said didn't matter for a full five minutes before darting upstairs. He knocked on her bedroom door, and she opened it, wearing nothing but a t-shirt, her face tearstained.
He took a step forward, backing her into the room. "I thought about you, I wondered about you, I missed you every single day. It was like you had consumed my life, Kate. And I didn't know why until you showed up in my office that day."
In hindsight, neither could remember who started the kiss first. It was almost as if they had come together at the exact same time. The kiss was hungrier, more needy than their first had been, and it quickly escalated. He picked her up, letting his hands wander under her short t-shirt, and carried her towards the bed, laying her down gently.
Her hands quickly went to work undoing the buttons of his shirt. "Are you sure?" he whispered, kissing her neck.
Kate pulled back just slightly, giving him a confident nod. That was all the validation that he needed and he quickly resumed what he was doing. Her shirt quickly joined his on the floor, and his pants soon followed suit.
Her skin felt better under his touch than Jack had ever let himself imagine it would. Her soft words urged him on, and he brought his mouth back up to hers, finally giving them what they both wanted.
Kate gasped sharply at first, almost worrying Jack. But the look on her face quickly let him know all was okay. They moved perfectly in sync, in fluid motions, as if they'd done this before. Maybe they had so many times in their minds that it was beyond natural by this point. Jack struggled to hang on at the sound of her moaning his name, but managed to hold back as long as she did.
Rolling over on his back, he took her with him, cradling her against his chest. He waited until his breathing calmed down to speak. "That was. . ."
"Perfect," Kate finished, her voice barely above a whisper. She rubbed her cheek against his, and he wasn't sure if the dampness came from her tears or his.
They continued to lie there, wonderfully content in each other's embrace, each listening to the soft, steady breathing of the other, until they both feel into a deep sleep.
