Jack struggled to keep up with the quick pace of the stair machine he had been cuffed to. His lungs burned, his back ached. He was no longer aware of the white room filled with medical equipment or the hum of the machine monitoring his pulse. He didn't even have the energy to consider the two men behind him holding cattle prods. His clothes were drenched from sweat. The salt on his skin crystallized to grit. The muscles in his legs quivered. He moved awkwardly hunched over in a vain attempt to ease a stitch in his side. He fought to keep his eyes from sliding shut in mid step. Everything he had left was focused on lifting one leg in front of the other.

There was a flutter of movement in the doorway behind Jack. One of the security orderlies put down the cattle prod and switched the step machine off. Jack stumbled to a halt. Someone released Jack's wrist and he sank to his knees. Too exhausted to resist they dragged him to the examination table on the far side of the room.

"I think that will do," a woman's voice called. She was blond with an Australian accent and an air of authority. The muscle hovering around Jack moved away to make room for her and two assistants. She waited as her assistants quickly set up a table with everything she would need to take some blood samples.

"Oh my god!" Meg thought. Quickly she held open his medical chart to cover her shock. He looked so much like Christian it took her breath away. Meg studied him covertly. She needed to find the differences to keep in mind that this was another woman's son. He was younger than his father had been when they had first met. His eyes were set a little deeper, a little more serious and soulful.

She had caught his eye at a social mixer at a medical convention. He had already developed a dependency on alcohol. She had made the mistake of thinking that he was laid back and easy going. The physical attraction had been immediate.

Meg's assistant nodded and stepped aside. Meg snapped the medical chart closed and dropped it on the exam table. She picked up his hand and turned it to expose the inside of his elbow. He had a surgeon's hand, strong, long dexterous fingers. But the palms were rougher than she remembered Christian having. And Christian had never had any calluses.

Christian set all her nerves on fire. She remembered every detail down to the velvety night air on her skin. An early morning courtesy call had woken them both up the next morning before either of them had realized where they were headed.

Meg placed a rubber tie around Jack's bicep. Her fingers looked pale in contrast to his tanned skin. She wondered if the color came from his mother or his time on the island. She brushed his warm skin with alcohol looking for a prominent vein.

A career in medicine didn't allow for long vacations in tropical locations. It hardly allowed enough time to mail the rent check let alone make use of the rented flat. Meg didn't regret her the haste. She deserved whatever form of love she could snatch. After a few hard years of professional acclaim she become well spoken of in her field and the Hanso Corporation had come courting. The job had offered her the chance to work beside Christian.

Deftly, she pierced the skin and began drawing blood. She glanced up and found his eyes watching her. He had been 6 when she first found out Christian had a child. She had never given children a second thought until Christian had shown her his son's photo. It was all so messed up, but seeing that picture, she had wanted that little boy for her own.

Meg sighed. Things would have turned out better if her daughter had had her older brother around. Holding a cotton ball against the entry point she pulled the needle out and bent his arm upwards. "He's going to be dizzy when he stands. Get him showered and fed before returning him to holding." Meg stepped back. She studied Jack's back as security dragged him from the room. She wasn't sure if it was fate or patience that had finally delivered Christian's son to her.

She wondered if her words to Christian had been true. Was 20 years too late? What did time do to obsession? She shuddered and quickly excused herself from the room.

Sawyer sat in the far corner from Kate. Despite the new shiner shadowing his right eye he looked quite satisfied with himself. He could thank his lucky stars she had been cuffed or he would have been worse off. He admired the way her anger had flushed her cheeks, made her focused rather than fearful. He contemplated moving closer to start another tussle. He had enjoyed the feel of her against him. With Kate anger was physical and immediate not some mind game. Sawyer smiled to himself, it didn't hurt that he had gotten by without giving up any of the information she wanted.

Making his mind up to test the waters Sawyer climbed to his feet. Kate's glare turned to him immediately. "Relax Cheetarah," he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Just stretching my legs." He strolled casually down the far wall and back. So far capture by the others hadn't been so bad. Finally someone had listened seriously to all his reasons why Jack made for sorry leadership. He glanced at Kate. There was no telling if or when they would be seeing Jack again. So he added his current roommate to the pro side of the list he was making. He didn't have to go hunt down fruit to eat or any of the other mundane chores that had been forced upon him by the group on the beach.

Sawyer paused. The malto meal concoction he and Kate had been served for dinner had left a lot to be desired. He would have to have a talk to room service about that. He glanced at his reflection in the mirrored walls. While he was all for mirrors in a bedroom, he didn't like the constant feeling that he was being watched. Sawyer turned and knocked on the mirror wall. "Hey Zeke? You in there?" Sawyer was just waiting for the opportunity to fulfill that promise.

A soft click was Kate and Sawyer's only warning before the door swung open. Two big men shoved Jack into the room and quickly swung the door shut. Jack shuffled the few steps to the nearest wall and slid to the ground. He sagged forward resting his head on his knees. Kate scrambled to her feet and crossed the room. Sawyer trailed behind her.

"Jack, are you ok?" Kate asked worried.

"Yep, fine," Jack mumbled. He pushed himself back into a sitting position. He studied Kate then turned to consider Sawyer.

Kate frowned. He didn't look fine. He looked pale and sort of spent. Not as bad as he had after Boon had died, but there was a similarity. Even stranger, he was completely drenched. Kate watched as a pool of water began to form on the floor around him.

Jack pointed at Sawyer, "Is that something I should worry about?" he asked commenting on the black eye.

Kate shook her head no answering for Sawyer. "It's just a black eye. He deserved it."

Sawyer smiled. Jack nodded and dropped his head back to his knees. Kate crouched in front of Jack. "Jack?"

"Its fine Kate," he mumbled without looking at her. "Just more exercise than I'm used to."

"You're soaking wet!" Kate pointed out.

"I didn't have a chance to undress before getting a shower," Jack answered. "It's just water."

Henry walked into the meeting room and tossed his stack of folders into the middle of the group seated. Silently he regarded them, fists planted on his hips. A dozen faces including Bea and Tom waited. Henry motioned towards the door, "Close that," he ordered and someone jumped to comply. Henry leaned forward planting his hands on the table top. "Where's Dr. Littleton?"

No one responded beyond a shrug.

"Fine, listen up. I know about the rumors, the betting pool. It's juvenile but fine," Henry waved his hand in emphasis. "What isn't fine is where we are on this case. I don't know how much clearer I can be, everything, the medical trials, the research, everything hinges on us making deadline with results. If we fail the Hanso Corporation will reappropriate our funds and all of us will be suddenly be unemployed. Do I have your attention yet?"

Henry slumped into an empty chair. He pointed at the folders he had dumped on the table. This data, the interview excerpts… this isn't getting the job done. We haven't even identified the issue."

The door opened interrupting Henry's frustration. Dr Littleton slipped in and took a seat. Henry looked at her hopefully. Meg shook her head regretfully. "Preliminaries on his blood work look clean. We will keep looking but it doesn't look like he has any chemicals typically perscribed for depression in his system."

Henry sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Ok, so lets start brainstorming. Has anyone run across something that could give us a marker on either depression or suicidal tendancy."

Tom shrugged, "198 wasn't real talkative in the interview, but that's normal. His answers were text book control group."

"Anything from the girl?" Henry asked pulling a folder from the pile on the table. "They act close." Bea shook her head no. Henry rubbed his temples. "Are you sure? There seemed to be an attraction between those two while I was in their hatch. That would predate any influence of paranoia caused by pulling them out of the field."

Bea shighed, "No, she honestly didn't know anything about the questions I asked. She was struggling just to find a connection between what I was asking and the person she knew. But I'm not saying there wasn't an attraction."

A young dark haired woman raised her hand tentatively for attention. "That could make sense." the girl named Alex ventured. "We know there was a divorce. We really only have the mother's version on that. What if something happened that damaged his ability to confide to a person he felt attracted to?"

Tom rolled his eyes "That's a lot of ifs. Second guessing the small amount of information we do have is just going to confuse the issue further."

Scott, a yet unidentified other leaned forward. "441 and 510 had a fight about who new more about 140."

"You mean 198 not 140." Bea corrected.

Scott shrugged, "Whatever, but it would seem that the male companion does know more about our subject than the female does." Scott paused for effect, "We might want to find out more about that divorce. I doubt mother dearest would commit to public record that her son is a switch hitter."

"Christ!" Tom muttered, "if that's on the table we might as well keep ourselves up at night wondering if he's been misdiagnosed."

Meg cocked her head to stare at the ceiling. "Ok, so he doesn't fit any of the typical behavior patterns. What are some of the atypical patterns."

"Hmm," Scott drew the sound out. "He seems a little uncomfortable being the center of attention. That's a bit atypical for some one in a leadership role."

An asian woman spoke up. "I could pull Sawyer back into a room and look into how he learned what he knows, but it seems to me we should apply a little more pressure to 198. See if those perfect answers change under pressure. We need to know if we are dealing with someone atypical or intelligent and experienced enough to have learned what the correct answers are."

Bea nodded in agreement, "I agree. We need to rule out the possibility that he has learned how to answer these types of questions before following the white rabbit down the hole. "

"Ok," Henry nodded. "Becca," he pointed at the asian woman. "find out what you can tomorrow morning. Let's get 198 up early for his conditioning. I want him good and tired for what we are about to pull on him."

Scott raised a finger, "Um, which one are we going to use to lean on 198? The guy or the girl?"

Henry frowned, "The girl unless Becca gets something conclusive on your sexual preferance theory." Henry began collecting the files he had dumped on the table and the others slowly drifted out of the conference room.