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Chapter Nineteen

The Rise and Fall

"But I'm so hungry," Jack whined, flopping back onto his living room couch dramatically. The next morning was the transplant, and Kate already dreaded having to take care of both Jack and her father. If Sam was going to be as whiny as Jack, she didn't know if either of them would make it out of her care alive. If they made it out of surgery in the first place.

"You know you can't eat anything," she told him for the second time that night. "They said you could have water though, or ice chips. Do you want either of those?" She fluffed the pillows behind his head to give him more support. Sam had been admitted to the hospital that morning because he'd needed several more tests before the operation than Jack.

Jack rubbed his eyes. "Ice chips if it's not too much trouble. Sorry, I get cranky when I'm hungry. I know you're already stressed out enough."

Lifting the ice cube tray from the freezer, Kate found a hammer in the junk drawer, placed the cubes in a plastic bag and began crushing them. "And you're not stressed out too?" she yelled over the noise. "Not that I don't think everything's going to turn out fine, but you probably have more reason to be scared than I do."

He didn't need to know how freaked out she was, though she suspected it wasn't much of a secret. And if Jack had any uncertainty about the surgery, he hadn't shown it, at least not in front of her. "I trust Dr. Holland and Dr. Cubert. They're both excellent. We'll both be fine. It's the recovery I'm worried about."

Maybe Jack was a little more worried than that. OK, so he was pretty worried. But his worry would do nothing but make Kate worry more. And he didn't want that.

Tossing the bag of ice chips toward him, Kate sat down on the couch. "You'll have me to take care of you," she smiled. "Both of you." She squeezed his thigh and laid her head on his shoulder. "But I still think that Dr. Holland's a bitch."

Jack cackled, surprising her. "What?" she asked.

He waved his hand in front of him, trying to dismiss the behavior. "Nothing, it's just... I thought the same thing when I dated her."

"What?" she asked again. "You didn't think that was something worth mentioning, oh, I don't know, three months ago? You dated her? She's pretty Jack, but come on, you could do better. And nicer."

"Clearly," he smirked, pinching her arm, leaning in for a kiss but earning a smack instead. "Hey! It was like, five years ago and it was nothing serious. She was too much bitch for me to handle. You're on a much more manageable level. And you're much, much hotter," he added, though by the glare she was giving him, he suddenly wished he'd never said anything.

"Oh, I could be a real bitch if I wanted to. Wanna see?"

"No thanks," Jack said meekly. "I'm serious though. You mean much more to me than she ever did. More than anyone else in my life."

Wrapping one arm around his torso, she glanced up at him from her place on his shoulder. "That's sweet, Jack. And I feel the same way. But you're sure she's not some crazy person who's waiting for her revenge? You're sure she won't let the scalpel, oh, I don't know, just slip a little?"

Jack glared at her and rolled her eyes, but was thankful for the distraction. He knew Kate was kidding. "She's a medical professional. And Dr. Cubert will be there too. And many other doctors and nurses," he added. "It was a very civil breakup."

Kate sighed. She thought she would be mad hearing about Jack's past, but having already met one of the women gave her a sense of relief. Dr. Holland was nothing to compete against. (But if they did compete, Kate would certainly win.)

Jack sprawled on the couch, lying his legs across her lap. "OK, let me hear it. I want stories of your past. And no more of this 'I don't really have boyfriends' thing. I don't believe it."

That story was kind of true, Kate thought. She'd never let anyone hang around as long as Jack had, and that wasn't saying much. A few months was hardly a dating record for many people. "I'll just say that you should feel very lucky, and very honored," she added with a coy look, "that I've let you stick around this long."

Jack clutched his chest and grinned. "I do indeed feel honored. Of course," he started, sitting up and brushing his hands at her waist, "there was quite an obstacle course to get through before you'd even let me near you."

Gliding her fingertips under the hem of his t-shirt sleeves, she agreed. "I'm just challenging." She brought her lips to his, overwhelmed by how happy just a few words could make her. Of course, as it had since Jack volunteered for the transplant, the feeling only made her wonder how she could survive without him.

Pulling out of the kiss briefly, she took his face in her palms. Neither of them liked mushy, romantic stuff, but there was a time and a place for everything, she thought. She had to thank him, before she lost the courage. "Jack, I... You'll never know how much this means to me, to Sam. It's the most unselfish thing anyone could ever do for us. Please don't forget that or make light of it."

When he brushed his index finger across her lips to shush her, Kate thought she'd said something he didn't want to hear. "That's just what you do for people you love, OK? You do anything."

The air left her chest. She felt crushed, delirious even, in the most delicious way imaginable. He loved her. "I... Jack I–"

A warm smile stretched across his mouth. "I know."

"I do. I love you," she said, feeling much more confident this time. "And not just because of what you're doing–"

Again his finger was pushed lightly to her lips. He smirked. "I know," he said before connecting their lips again.

She loved how he tangled his hands through her hair, how his touch was rough but gentle, like he was trying to hold her in place but afraid she would break at the same time. He draped his body over hers and lifted her hands over her head, holding them in place while he continued to kiss her. He cradled himself between her legs and dropped his warm mouth to her neck, a certain precursor of theirs.

Their hands roamed and Kate asked, breathlessly, "Should we be–"

His hand sneaked to the button of her jeans as his lips attacked the sensitive spot just behind her ear. He huffed jokingly. "I'm not broken yet."

That morning had arrived. Sam shot awake, though he had slept on and off to begin with. He glanced at the clock in his overnight room. Three hours until surgery, and he already felt exhausted. Maybe that was because he needed a new liver, or from the chemo or radiation. Or maybe he was just wearing out. He prayed to God that this worked. It had to.

The distinct sound of his stomach rumbling caused him no notice. His parched mouth couldn't garner any attention. He stared at the clock. And waited.

Kate found him that way an hour later, after they'd gotten Jack registered. Jack was waiting a few rooms down, just as anxious as the older man. He'd begged Kate to get one of the nurses to wheel him into Sam's room, but she'd told him no, not until she'd been able to talk to her dad for a few minutes.

"Morning," she said, putting on a casual smile even though she was feeling anything but. He nodded. "So..." she hesitated, noticing his foul mood. She expected nervousness, not anger. "Ready?"

Sitting up, Sam grunted. "Guess so. Hope so." Kate reminded herself that it was the voice of a very sick man who had been through more than most people could handle. "This doesn't have to be some big sappy moment, you know," he finally said after Kate had taken a seat in the bedside chair.

She grinned at the hint of regular Sam coming through. "I know. It won't be. We can both be a little unemotional." It would be too easy to end the conversation there, however much she wanted to. Apparently he expected her to continue. "But, uh, I wanted to say how much I appreciate you dealing with me and accepting me when you didn't have to. You could've sent me on my way, and I probably would've eventually been OK with it, but you didn't, and I'm glad. I know this was a big mess and I forced you into some things you didn't want–"

He raised his hand to stop her. "I thought I didn't want those things. You managed to change that. And I guess that's what I want to say. Even if this doesn't work out... or whatever happens, I'm sure I'd be dead now if it wasn't for you, kid."

They shared a smile, both glancing away from the tears that appeared in each other's eyes.

A rap on the metal doorway interrupted them as a nurse pushed Jack into the room in a wheelchair. "Don't know why I couldn't walk myself," he grumbled before accepting Sam's handshake.

Kate listened to their conversation. She admired both men, but laughed at their seriousness and short, to the point sentences. They sounded like cavemen.

"You're a good, honest guy," she heard. "And not that I should have to warn you, but you better take care of Kate, in case..."

The younger man nodded. "Of course. But I'd rather have you around to remind me instead."

No more than five minutes later, the nurse had come back to collect Jack and another to prep Sam for the surgery. Kate wiped away the tears on her cheeks and kissed Sam. "See ya soon."

He gripped her hand. "Hopefully in about 12 hours." After Sam was wheeled away, she gave herself a few precious moments to compose herself before going to see Jack.

He was as vulnerable looking as she'd ever seen, lying there in a gown like that, staring at a blank space on the wall. His eyes shifted to hers when she entered.

"Hey."

"Hey."

She went to his side, gripping his hand as she'd done with her father. He could see the tears in her eyes. They made him want to cry, too. He couldn't do that. "It's gonna be fine," he breathed, hugging her against him.

"What if it's not?"

"I– I can't answer that. But it will be. We'll both be fine," he repeated, as much for himself as for her.

She crushed her lips against his in a long, drawn-out kiss. His hands gripped her shoulders so tightly he thought he might have left his handprints.

"They took your dad?" he asked after they parted.

She nodded.

"Guess I'm next."

She nodded.

Dr. Holland let out a deep breath, as she did before every surgery. She looked at the man lying on the table, unconscious, all kinds of IVs running into him. Then she took the phone and called over to the connected surgical suite, where Dr. Cubert was with Jack Shephard.

"Ready?" she asked the older surgeon. She glanced through the tiny glass windows and saw a nurse holding the phone up to his mouth.

"Already started."

Dr. Holland called out for the correct scalpel, let out another deep breath, praying that Sam Austen's weak body would make it through the surgery. Then she made the first incision.

Up Next: Guess.