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Chapter Four

Expectations

Sam's plan hadn't worked out the way he thought it might. Not that he'd had long to plan, since Kate's entrance into his life had been rather surprising. While it was nice to meet her, to identify a daughter he never knew he had, it didn't seem like it would be all that hard to get rid of someone when you told them you were dying.

Nothing says run, and quick! quite like that.

But Kate was stubborn, and though it had been thirty years since Sam last saw Diane—his Poppy—he thought back to her similar attitude, the way she carried herself and how she would never accept help from anyone. If he'd had any doubts that Kate was his daughter, they were all erased when she had stuck around after his announcement that he had terminal cancer.

For years he lived alone, only a few women here and there since Diane. This was mostly by choice, and he always told himself he was just meant to be a loner. Sam didn't much mind it, until he found out that he was only months away from the end of his life.

It seemed to him that there was something slightly pathetic about dying alone. He had irrational fears that no one would find him for days after his death, maybe weeks even, that he would rot away in his kitchen, that there would be no funeral or memorial, no obituary in the newspaper. He feared of not having a place in the world.

What was the point of living if he'd never done anything to be remembered by?

"Ready?" Kate asked Sam, her fists clenched in excitement, her nerves already getting to her. Of course, the three cups of coffee she'd downed after a terrible night's sleep probably hadn't helped either.

The previous night she tossed and turned in anticipation of Sam's appointment with Dr. Shephard. For one of the first times since arriving in LA, she didn't feel quite so weighed down. She wouldn't get her hopes up, she promised herself, but at least she'd know that she had done everything possible to help Sam. At least he would know she cared.

"Guess we've gotta get this over with sooner or later," he said gruffly, grabbing his coat from the rack beside the door. He noticed Kate glancing a little too long. It was rather warm out, he would admit, but nothing he did ever stopped the chills from running through him.

Though he protested when Kate insisted on driving him to the hospital, he eventually let her, thinking again of all the fights he and Diane had in their short relationship and how many of them would have been resolved if he'd only let her have her way.

Life is about making sacrifices was his mantra, and as he sat in the passenger seat he repeated it over and over in his mind, to avoid getting worked up. After all, it was the only reason he had agreed with Kate and made the appointment to go see Dr. Shephard, even though he thought it was pointless. He was past the point of being saved.

Kate wanted to laugh when she and Sam walked into the reception area and were met by the smiling face of Pamela, the very receptionist who she had tricked earlier that week into giving her Dr. Shephard's contact information.

She chose not to give Pamela the chance to question her, and instead took a seat in the line of green plushy chairs, picking up a magazine to pass the time. Sam came back with a stack of papers that looked about an inch thick.

"Should be fun," he grumbled, but shook his head when Kate offered to help.

The bright, glossy pages of the women's magazine would have normally caught her attention, but the fact that she knew Dr. Shephard was only a matter of feet away brought back their phone conversation only a few days ago.

Over and over she had replayed it in her head, analyzing it and wondering what it all meant. He just didn't sound like a doctor. Nothing about their interaction suggested their relationship would be that of a doctor and the family member of a patient.

It made her a little nervous.

They both tapped their feet with anxiety, until finally, about 25 minutes after they took their seats in the waiting room, a nurse called them back. They followed her to a small office, sparsely decorated with navy walls, a dark cherry desk and black desk chair.

"Was expecting something a little fancier for a famous surgeon," Sam said, as if he could read her mind.

There was a quiet rap on the door frame. "Sorry to disappoint," the man said, striding forward confidently to shake Sam's hand. "Jack Shephard. Nice to finally meet you."

Something about the way Dr. Shephard shook Sam's hand made Kate take an instant like to him. There was nothing pitiful about it; Sam wasn't a china doll in his book, and Kate figured that Sam would appreciate it just the same. It would be nice for him to go through with all of this—the poking, the prodding, the complete lack of privacy—with some dignity intact.

Plus, he was nice to look at. Like seriously, ridiculously nice to look at.

If Kate hadn't been so aware of the fact that Dr. Shephard's eyes were on her, she was sure her shock would have been more apparent. He was tall, with the sort of build she expected from an athlete rather than a spinal surgeon, and cropped brown hair.

He wasn't what she expected.

His smile reached his eyes and he stuck his hand out to Kate. "We've kind of already met, I guess you could say. Jack Shephard."

Blindly, Kate grasped his hand. "Kate Austen. Nice—"

"Austen?" Sam interjected. "You never told me that."

Jack watched the two interact. He remembered Kate telling him that she and Sam had just met, and now he had no problem believing it.

Their conversation, out of the hundreds that he'd had over the past few days, would not get out of his head. He hadn't bantered like that with someone since… well, it had been a long time.

Kate rolled her eyes and looked to Jack. "We haven't had much time to get to know each other. I was too busy, oh you know, trying to get this appointment and convince you," she pointed to Sam, "not to just keel over and die."

Though he knew it wasn't professional and he hadn't built a relationship with either Sam or Kate, Jack let out a bark of laughter. It wasn't uncommon for a family member of a patient to have more hope for a miracle than the actual patient, but Kate's frankness was a little refreshing.

"Sorry," Sam told Jack, throwing Kate a look. "We have kind of a strange story."

"So I've heard," Jack said, glancing back to Kate, who blushed when reminded of her outburst on the phone. She had no business spilling her guts to a relative stranger.

She supposed there were two of those in the room.

Sam raised his eyebrows but didn't let on verbally. "So what do you think? Kate seems to have this idea that you can… I dunno, rescue me or something."

"You don't have to mock me," Kate said, sitting across from him, this time genuinely hurt.

Deciding to intervene before the situation got too out of hand, Jack set Sam's chart down on the counter loudly.

"The scans don't look good, I'll be honest. There's no way around that. Dr. Holland has told me that you plan to continue with the chemotherapy?"

Sam nodded. After a lengthy discussion with Dr. Holland, she'd agreed to keep him on as a patient and continue to oversee his chemotherapy.

"I spoke with her just before your appointment and your dose is going up. We're going to aggressively treat the tumors before I can even think about operating—"

Same held up his hand. "Listen Doc, all due respect, but I didn't say anything about an operation. I told Kate that I'd come see you and hear what you have to say, but don't pull the cart before the horse."

Jack looked to Kate, furrowing his brows. Just why the hell was this man here if he had no interest in being helped?

"No offense, but if this is going to be a waste of my time, and yours too," he pointed at Sam, "then maybe we should just leave it right here."

Kate stood up suddenly. "No! Sam, come on! Just hear him out, will you? I worked so hard to even get this guy to see you! I had to lie to the receptionist, who by the way Dr. Shephard, you might wanna think twice about, and now that you're face to face with a talented surgeon who's probably the only surgeon in a 300-mile radius willing to perform this surgery and you won't even think about taking advantage of it—"

"It's true," Jack shrugged. "You have a very persistent daughter, Mr. Austen. I couldn't say no to her."

Even Kate's reference to him as 'this guy' didn't bother Jack, but the confidence she seemed to have in him was somewhat unnerving. Sure, he was secure with his own skills, but Sam's case was tough. The chances were slim of him making a full recovery when his tumors weren't limited to just the spine.

"I can't stand much more of this," Sam finally said. "The chemo, all of these visits to the hospital. It's plain exhausting."

Kate stared down at her lap, unsure of what she could possibly say to Sam. She had to admit that he was right; he had only promised that he would go to the appointment.

Jack rolled his chair back from his desk, sighing. Facing Sam and Kate, he scribbled down a few notes on his chart. For a moment he imagined himself as a psychiatrist rather than a spinal surgeon.

"Unfortunately I've seen a lot of cases like yours," Jack started, before deciding to feign much more confidence than he actually had, and then leaning toward Sam with his elbows on his knees. "I can get this tumor out, Mr. Austen, but only if you let me."

Life is about making sacrifices, Sam thought again. But how far would this go before he sacrificed himself?

Eventually he nodded, meeting Kate's eyes but directing his words to Jack. "You can call me Sam."

Kate waited outside while Jack examined Sam. Jack had explained that he and Dr. Holland had set up a schedule for Sam, hoping that in a few weeks the tumor on his spine will have shrunk enough for Jack to perform a viable operation.

It was the best the situation could be, Kate thought, and considered that Dr. Shephard's manners toward her father made them both comfortable. For all of the man's talents, she expected him to be an asshole.

When Jack led Sam out of the exam room, he went with him to reception and handed Pamela the chart, commenting on his notes.

"Ms. Austen, wait up," he called to Kate, stopping her in the hallway.

She whipped her head around. "It's Kate, please."

"We're going to see him back in a week, check the progress of the tumor and I'll do another examination."

Kate nodded. "Okay. And I meant to thank you, for saving me in there. I just want him to explore all of his options but I'm starting to doubt myself a little bit."

Jack nodded. "Well, I'm on your side. It'll be a very complicated surgery, but I'm… I'm willing to take a chance if he is."

Folding her arms across her chest, Kate forced a small smile. "I'll keep working on him in the meantime."

She noticed Sam was done in the lobby, waiting patiently. She gave Jack a nod and turned around.

"Hey… Kate? You coming next week? With your father?"

His forwardness surprised her, and she fought the blush that was creeping to her cheeks. While they were flirting with the lines of professionalism, she couldn't decide what else it was.

But whatever it was, she decided, it needed to take a backseat to the wellbeing of Sam.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I'll be here."

He smiled back— shyly, Kate determined—and the poise he had so casually displayed during the office visit wavered for just a moment.

"Good."

Well, maybe a little distraction wouldn't hurt.

Up next: Kate and Sam get to know each other a little better. :)