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Chapter Sixteen

Kissing Kate

"Looking a little worse for the wear, Dr. Shephard."

Snapping Jack out of his revery, Sam smiled at him, full of his typical ornery behavior. Jack would admit he hadn't been looking his best. His body, not used to being poked and prodded, seemed to have an unusual response to all of the tests he'd had. He was more tired than usual, and his tanned complexion had dulled just a little. It was mostly mental, he thought.

His fatigue, paired with the decision he was facing– whether he should let Sam know he could donate his liver to him– hadn't made the past few days the easiest.

When he'd woken that morning, prepared to check on Sam and discharge him, he'd made the decision that he would have that tough conversation with Sam. It would be better to tell him, Jack had thought, when he was out of the hospital and back at home, where he had some chance of distraction.

But now that he'd gotten the chance to think about it, Jack had managed to work up the courage to talk to Sam. He would have him sign the discharge papers, then deliver the news. Hopefully it would all happen before Kate arrived.

"Working too hard," Jack said. "Your fault."

Sam smiled again, but Jack saw the hint of fear in his eyes, behind the front he put up. He announced that he was optimistic, and that Jack wouldn't have been able to remove such a difficult tumor if he was meant to die anyway. But Sam wasn't the type to be unrealistic. He knew as well as Jack did that something could easily go wrong, and once he went downhill it would be hard to get back up.

"Looks like today's your lucky day," Jack said, thinking 'In more ways than one...' "Like we talked about yesterday, you've healed up nicely and you get to go home today."

"Finally," Sam said. "I think these nurses are getting mighty sick of me."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Are you sure it's not the other way around? Aren't you sick of being babied?"

Sam paused. "Doc, I'm sick of being poked and prodded. I don't think I'd ever get sick of a few of these beautiful nurses..."

Jack laughed, thankful for a route into a less serious conversation. "What about... Macy, was it? That girlfriend of yours Kate's told me about? I thought I've seen her around a few times."

"Marcia," he corrected him. "And she's... well, that's complicated. If we're gonna play this game, how goes it with you and my daughter?"

"Well," Jack hesitated, before cracking a smile, "that's complicated too."

Sam sighed dramatically while filling out portions of the discharge papers. "She likes you."

"I know. And just how many times are we gonna have this conversation?" Jack was past the point of being uncomfortable discussing a possible relationship between he and Kate with Sam, but that didn't change the fact that Sam hadn't been able to speed up the process. He'd had almost no results except indirectly, of course, because if Sam didn't have a life-threatening tumor, he and Kate would've never met in the first place...

"As many times as it takes."

Shifting in the bed, Sam handed the clipboard back to Jack.

"Can I have my clothes back?" he asked, pulling at the thin fabric of his gown. " I'm sick of this flimsy thing and people getting a peak at what they shouldn't..."

Jack glanced over the papers, careful to make sure everything was in place. "Yeah, I'll go round up everything that Kate hasn't already taken back."

"Call her, will you? She's gonna need to pick me up..."

Jack nodded and asked the nurse, Trisha, to find Sam's belongings. She took the clipboard from him, and eyed him, mouthing, "Tell him."

Was he really that transparent?

"Trisha's gonna grab your stuff, but there's something I wanted to talk to you about–"

"Nothing good ever follows that..."

Jack sighed. Now or never. Well, not never, but the chance of getting Sam alone to talk after his discharge was slim. "You know how I've been telling you I'm trying to find a liver for you? I found one."

Previously uninterested in their conversation, Sam's head suddenly snapped up. "You found one? Already?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Don't sound so excited," Sam said sarcastically. "I thought this was a good thing?"

Never mind the fact that Jack hadn't entirely convinced himself that donating his liver to Sam was a good thing... He knew it was a good idea, but wasn't sure if it was the right idea. It was too complicated.

"It is," Jack said. "It's a very good thing, and all signs point to the liver being a very, very, good match."

Light in his eyes, Sam appeared more excited than he had when Jack told him the spinal tumor surgery was successful. "Okay, so when is this gonna happen? When will we do the transplant? It has to be soon, right?"

"That's a little unclear right now," Jack lied. "You don't have to have the surgery as soon as possible, but that would be ideal."

Sam tossed his hands in the air. "I don't get it, Jack. There's a liver that is a match, that's available, yet we can't schedule a surgery? What's so confusing about this?"

"It's mine," Jack blurted out. "The liver that's a match... it's mine."

Stuttering a few times, Sam could think of nothing to say. On one hand, he'd be crazy to pass up a good match. On the other, it was Jack.

"I've only known for a few days. I just– I didn't know if this was the best–"

"You don't have to do this. You're probably not supposed to do this," Sam stressed. "I can't– I can't take this from you."

Sam's rejection was the spark Jack needed to assure himself donating part of his liver was the right thing to do. Sam didn't have a large circle of friends, or much family. Jack was certain he was the only person other than Kate who would willingly donate without being dead first...

"Yes, you can. The surgery... it's not that big of a deal. It's safe, it has improved a lot within recent years. I'll be fine. I''m healthy."

Underscoring the seriousness of the surgery was the only way Jack could think to get the upper hand.

"I've been thinking about it," Sam said. "And there are some guys at work who might be matches... who might not mind..."

He knew it was a weak argument.

"Guys older than you?" Jack asked. "Who probably don't take such great care of themselves?"

Sam looked offended. "You're saying I did this to myself?"

"I'm saying that our match is very good and it's unlikely that one of those guys will provide a better one. And I want to do this for you. For you and Kate."

"She won't like this, you know."

Jack sighed, anticipating the reaction Kate would supply. At the very least, it might be entertaining.

"I know."

"I'm not sure I like this either," Sam said. "You've already done plenty for me, Jack. More than most people would even try..."

"Don't argue with me about this, because this is the chance you need to get healthy and be there for Kate. Neither of us want to see you gone because you're too stubborn to take what you deserve."

Trisha appeared in the room, hesitating in the doorway before Jack waved her in. "We were just talking about the transplant," Jack told her.

Handing him a bag full of his belongings, Trisha smiled genuinely. "Glad to hear it." She could easily sense that Sam was having a tough time dealing with the news. "Don't worry about Dr. Shephard. He'll be fine. He's in good hands. So are you."

Jack flashed the woman a grateful smile as she left the room. "Could you call Kate? Tell her Sam needs to be picked up?" he called after her.

"Jack, I still don't think this is right..."

"Don't tell Kate," Jack warned him. "At least not right now. Let's get the surgery scheduled and then you can tell her. Or I can tell her. Whatever."

"This isn't right," Sam repeated. "This isn't how everything was supposed to happen."

Unfolding his arms from across his chest, Jack settled into the armchair by Sam's bed. "Do you have any other choice?"

Oblivious to both Jack's and Sam's foul moods when Sam was discharged, Kate had convinced Jack to go out with her that night. He reluctantly agreed when Sam piped in and said Jack should follow through on the promises he made.

If she only knew, Jack thought. She would hate me right now.

Kate insisted they go to Jack's place instead of out to dinner like Jack wanted. In case he slipped and ended up telling her about the transplant, he wanted to be somewhere public.

And for once, even though Kate was sitting beside him on the couch, a glass of wine in hand, wrapped up in some story from work, he wasn't thinking about her. He was thinking about Sam. And a little about himself.

"So I told Marc there was no way that I would fly across the country for a book fair when my dad is this sick."

Jack nodded, his stare fixed on one of her earrings, thoughts elsewhere.

"Then Brad Pitt walked into our office and started showing me pictures of all his kids and offered me a ride on his motorcycle."

Jack nodded again, broken from his trance only by the hard punch Kate served him on his bicep.

"Hey!"

"Hey you! Pay attention! What's wrong?"

Hesitation was a red flag, he reminded himself, and Kate was way too good at reading him.

"'Lot on my mind," he said. "Sorry." At least he wasn't lying to her... just conveniently leaving out large parts of information. "A few big surgeries coming up." One of them my own, he wanted to add.

"Okay," she said, not quite buying into his explanation but deciding not to push it. "So how's your life been? Feel like we've been so sucked up into all of my dad's problems that we haven't really talked."

"You know what I like, Kate?"

She smiled at him, expecting a sweet answer or something that would make her blush.

"No, what?"

"That you call him 'my dad' now. Sounds good."

"Yeah, I guess," she frowned. "It's hard to say to him, though."

Jack nodded. He had family issues of his own. She didn't need to explain.

"Well you should. You know, with all of this going on. You should tell him how you feel."

She gave him a puzzled glance. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

He hadn't failed to notice the signs she had displayed that night– her fingertips on his thigh, her body turned to his, arm propped on the back of the couch.

It would be so easy to kiss her...

"You know, I think I can finally tell a certain someone how I feel about him..." she trailed off. "And he's not my dad."

Jack might have been distracted, but he wasn't that distracted.

"Does his name happen to be Jack?" he joked, catching the glint in her eye, feeling his heart beat begin to race.

Setting her wine glass on the coffee table, Kate wrapped her hands in his, looking at him as intensely as he could remember.

"I think I wanna give this a try. Us. Now that everything's over with Sam, well, with you and Sam, anyway. I think it could work."

Just a week ago, he would've been over the moon. A chance with Kate was all he'd wanted from the beginning– that, and for Sam to live.

"That's not telling me how you feel about me, Kate," he teased, poking her side when her jaw dropped. "After all those times you gave me nothing? I can't let you off that easy."

"Fine," she laughed. "If you're gonna make this more mortifying than it already is..."

"Of course I am."

Maybe flirting like a pair of 15-year-olds would temporarily distract him.

"I had my guard up, Jack. Now it's down. I like you. Is that enough?"

"Not very descriptive, but I guess I'll take it..."

She leaned forward, searching his eyes, a small smile on each of their mouths that told her they both knew what was going to happen, before she closed the inch between them. This kiss wasn't out of desperation or relief; she wasn't clinging onto him because she had to. She just wanted to.

He returned her kiss happily, turning off his mind as best he could and letting his body take control instead. They were a mix of mouths, her tongue sneaking out to meet his lightly, chills running down her back where his hands met.

Kissing Kate was better than he had often imagined. He played scenarios in his head, picturing where or how it would happen, how they would be breathless and caught up in each other. This was better. This was real. Her lips were really against his, their torsos touching, her hands perched on his shoulders. He could feel her hair brushing against his face and neck every time her head moved, could count the number of freckles that dotted her cheeks if he wanted to.

Kate wasn't sure how long they laid on the couch, but had forgotten how good it could feel to be pressed up against someone, his hands in her hair, kissing her so thoroughly, like there was nothing more important in the world. That peculiar blend of nervousness and pure excitement churned in the bottom of her stomach, like she was riding a roller coaster. Every shift of his hands, from her waist to the outlines of her thighs, and it panged again. When he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a playful bite, she drew in a shaky breath.

She should listen to Sam more often, she thought.

When her mouth moved from his lips to his neck, her hands wandering to his shirt, Jack realized they were in dangerous territory. He couldn't go through with anything as serious as sex without telling her about his plans to donate a portion of his liver to Sam.

He'd never dealt well with a guilty conscience. She deserved to know.

Up next: Kate's confused, Jack feels guilty, and Sam is caught in the middle!