A/N: I'm very fuzzy on how many people/motor boats cruise ships have, and also how boats would get on and off a giant cruise ship. So I apologize for any outright lies, or even misleads. They are unintentional.
Thank you very much for all the feedback! Keep it coming!
They came four to a shiny white motor boat: men and women in cleanly pressed uniforms. Jack conferred with the ship's doctor about whether the children would need to be quarantined, since they weren't vaccinated, didn't have the usual antibodies built up through years of city living. All Kate could think of was Indians and smallpox blankets. Sun gave the captain a tour of the settlement; he had been fetched to shore after the salient details of their situation were conveyed.
Kate played the good wife, and made sure the children sat still long enough to eat their dinner. She herself did not feel like eating, and simply sat with them staring around her in numb shock, mumbling bad answers to their torrent of questions. Crew members were helping gather people's belongings, and making lists of names and contacts. Who could remember phone numbers, after all this time? They resorted to the names of companies, to cities, neighborhoods, anything that might narrow down the search. That probably existed somewhere, Kate thought. After the crash they would have assembled a list, they would have had to notify the families. The list would be out of date; but no one on the island would be able to do it much better. Kate wondered if she should tell them her father was in the army, if that would help them find him. She wondered if he wanted to be found, if she wanted him to come meet her. By the time they got off the boat, she might not be allowed visitors. This was assuming he was even alive. Ten years was a long time; though he was in good shape, he'd always kept himself fit. Raising children had brought her closer to her own parents, in a way; it made her re-evaluate their actions, their words, her own childhood. But it was a strange closeness, the way one thought of the dead. She had honestly never expected to see her father again.
They brought things in the boats: food, blankets. It made Kate laugh, their notion of rescue. If they needed blankets, would they have survived this long without them? What difference would one night make? They'd decided to keep the survivors on the island until the next day, when there would be enough time and light to properly break down the settlement, and find room for them all on the ship. There was talk of converting a ballroom into sleeping quarters, or asking the families on board to double up in cabins. It was only temporary, the first mate assured them. Oceanic had already been contacted, and was making arrangements for more comfortable transportation home. No planes, he promised, by ship only.
After the children had eaten she let them join the other kids as a few crew members entertained them with what looked to be modern Gameboys and digital video players that miraculously emerged from their pockets. She tried to pack. What to take with them? Will's other pair of shorts, patched together from a pair of Jack's pants that had finally had more holes than fabric? The dresses Emma never wore — they had given up on wrestling any of the kids into clothes until it became absolutely necessary, around three or four — hand-me-downs from Hea, made from Shannon's tank-tops? Jack's makeshift doctor's kit? Watership Down, which she had bartered from Sawyer so Will would have something somewhat age-appropriate to read? The rag doll Matt used to carry around when he was 18 months old, tucked firmly against his little chest? She pictured these things in a house, in the kind of house Jack would have, with hardwood floors and large windows and shiny countertops. In the real world, everything they had was just junk.
"Hey." Sawyer was ducking into their shack. "You're needed." Emma was clinging to him, sniffling into his shirt. Sawyer held her at his side without looking, as if he could pretend he wasn't doing a good deed.
"What happened?" Kate asked, standing up and reaching for her daughter.
Emma resisted for a moment, burrowing into Sawyer. He made a disgusted noise and said, "It's your mom," and she noticed that, yes, it was, and gave up, flinging herself at Kate instead. Sawyer shrugged, adjusting his shirt. "They showed her some thing on those little video players that scared her."
"Thanks for bringing her," Kate said. Emma's face was wet with tears and snot, which she wiped against Kate's chin. Kate stroked her hair and bounced her a little. Over Emma's head, she met Sawyer's eyes. He shrugged again, and then reached into his pocket abruptly.
"I don't need this," he said, handing her a slim blue rectangle. A passport. She flipped it open with the hand that wasn't holding Emma. Someone else's passport: a woman, brown hair, in her 30s.
Kate knew she wouldn't use it. She'd already given them her married name, and… and she'd promised Jack. But it was a gift, so she just nodded and slipped it into her back pocket. "Thanks," she said again.
He made another noise, in the back of his throat, and shook his head. "See ya 'round, Freckles," he said, and ducked out of the tent. Kate closed her eyes for a second, adjusted Emma's weight so she could hold her with both hands.
Jack came to bed late, after all the fires had died down and people had settled into their beds for the last time. He had helped put the kids to bed, and then gone back to business. As always, people expected him to take care of things, and by this time he had grown into the leader role so completely that he never questioned that assumption. So Kate lay in bed alone, eyes open. When the kids were old enough, they'd built a separate shelter for them, right beside theirs: the walls were thin and she could still hear them breathing if she held her own breath and listened, but it afforded some illusion of privacy.
When he came, Jack tried to move silently, as if she would be sleeping. She let him think so, long enough to settle down beside her, hesitate about whether to touch her or not. After a long, breathless moment, he slid his arm around her, spooning his body behind hers, and she turned her head.
"Sorry," he murmured.
"I wasn't sleeping."
She nestled back into the cradle of his body, their thighs touching, and their pelvises, her shoulders against his chest. She felt his nose along the skin of her neck, in her hair. "I'm sorry I disappeared," he said. His breath ghosted over the tiny hairs along her neck. "There's a lot of details to work out."
She understood this, and wasn't sure if she forgave him or not. "I know."
His arm tightened around her. "We're married."
"Yes, we are." She found his hand with hers, slid her fingers over his knuckles. Amazing how being held like this could be a promise of absolute safety, and at the same time, completely terrifying.
He kissed her shoulder. She closed her eyes and heard the strains of Charlie's battered guitar. All you need is love.
"What's going to happen?" she asked.
"They're putting us in the ballroom, there's just not enough cabins. But it should only be for a few days. Oceanic has already chartered a ship to come meet us, and take us all the way back to L.A. Everyone agreed that we shouldn't get on a plane… I guess some people might have to, later, to get back to their homes, but that'll be worked out once we're in the U.S."
"So are we going to be confined to the ballroom?"
"We've agreed that's best, for now. The ship coming to meet us will have vaccines for the kids, better medical supplies."
"And less people for us to tell our story of woe to before the Oceanic lawyers get to us."
"There is that. Apparently there's already been some leaks from the boat — they have satellite internet, and some crew members contacted the press. Oceanic isn't releasing our names until they've contacted family members though."
"Which means that some poor mother somewhere has been given new hope — which will soon be dashed." Kate tried to imagine what it would be like to lose a child, and not know, but the thought was too overwhelmingly painful to dwell on.
"Unfortunately, yes. At least soon everyone will know… will know what really happened."
"We were all presumed dead, right?"
"Legally, yes. The captain said the search went on for about a year."
They lapsed into silence. Kate asked finally, "Nothing about me?"
"Not yet."
"It'll come." She turned suddenly, onto her back. He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her.
"We'll figure that out when it happens," Jack said, with far more confidence than she could muster. "Together."
"Right." She looked at him, for the first time, the shadowed planes of his face. No point in talking about this, or thinking about it. The world would fall in, but it hadn't yet, and this was their last night of freedom. Her hand crept up his shoulder. "It's our wedding night."
"And this is our last privacy for at least a few days," Jack pointed out in a hushed voice.
"And our last night in this godawful excuse for a bed," Kate laughed.
He smiled, the faintest flash of white teeth in the dark. "What are you suggesting Mrs. Shephard?"
She let out a startled, slightly horrified giggle at being called "Mrs. Shephard." Oh god, that was her name now. She was Mrs. Dr. Shephard. Jack covered her mouth, whispering, "Shh."
"Don't you know a better way to shut your wife up?" Kate asked, removing his hand from her lips. Luckily, he had a few good ideas.
She woke up thinking about coffee. After a while, you forgot tastes, smells, but you remembered the feeling of cupping a steaming mug in your hands and breathing in the day. At least, Kate did. Coffee, she would be happy to have again. And moisturizing body wash. A car stereo. Marshmallows. Ice.
Jack was already up, organizing people onto boats. Kate tied her hair back and got the kids breakfast. The first group was loading up, each holding a small bundle of wrapped items, like refugees in movies. Kate left the kids on the beach with Rose and went rambling, for the last time. They hadn't found her out yet, which meant she could still stay on the island, with Jack and her children. But no coffee. No friends, or communal dinners, or packs of children to play with.
The paths were too familiar now, it was hard to see them well enough to say goodbye. In her mind, the whole world was this brightly colored. Even when she thought about Iowa, it was in vibrant greens and blues and reds, colors that did not exist there in reality. She climbed a tree, high enough to see the ship, and the wake of a motor boat, traveling towards it. She straddled a thick branch and pressed her hands against the bark until it made marks. She ate a redfruit, down to the pit.
Sun was in her garden, weeping. "I am happy to go home," she insisted, when Kate found her there, "To see my family, to begin a new life. I do not know why I…" She tenderly smoothed the earth around the roots of one of her new plants. She had expanded the garden every year; by now it was about a hundred square feet, and provided a large percentage of their food, as well as medicines, flowers, all the things that made a place inhabitable.
Kate crouched beside her, and picked up a fistful of soil. "I know," she said. Sun took her hand, the dirt pressed between their fingers.
"Will you be alright, Kate?" Sun asked. "Have you heard anything, about… the police?"
Kate was startled. She thought everyone had forgotten, except Jack and Sawyer. People tended to overlook the things they didn't want to remember. "No. I… I don't know. I think – I think it's going to be bad. But I promised Jack I would face it."
"We will be there, if you need us," Sun promised, squeezing her hand. Kate smiled, gratefully, wondering what she had done to deserve real friends, and simultaneously, if what she said was true.
"It's time to get back," Kate said, and Sun nodded, releasing her. She wiped her cheeks and kissed the leaves of her plant, and stood up. Kate stood with her, and they nodded at each other, and walked back to the beach, slowly.
About twenty people were left. Rose and Bernard were arguing, quietly. "It's time, Bernard," Rose kept saying, "I'm ready."
Claire was sitting next to the cradle, rocking it slowly. Since Locke built it for Aaron, that cradle had held twelve babies. Three Claire's, three Kate's. "Charlie says there's not enough room," Claire said when Kate approached. "And what would we do with it? Now that we're going back to the land of birth control, I am never doing that again. But I just can't… I can't just leave it." Kate ran a hand along a bamboo slat. Her babies had slept with her most nights, but she had used the cradle when they were fussy, or she needed some space. She could see them all so clearly as infants; it wasn't that long ago, for Emma. Their little bodies curled up, their tiny hands reaching for tiny feet.
"You should take it," she said. "I'll talk to Jack about moving it." Heirloom didn't seem the right word, but she knew it shouldn't be lost, or left behind.
"Thanks, Kate," Claire said, with a small, sad smile. Kate squeezed her shoulder, moved on to someone else's problem.
Everything moved so quickly. They came, they saw, they took away. Ten years on the island had changed Kate's rhythm. She thought they should spend some time saying goodbye, planning how to do this; but the real world didn't work quite like that. The real world assumed that this was a rescue operation, pure and simple, and they would all run back to civilization as fast as possible. Maybe this was true, for most people.
Kate was a little surprised to find Locke preparing to leave. She didn't know why, but she'd pictured him on the island after they were all gone, holding trust with it somehow. "Turns out I'm not as much of a loner as I'd like to pretend," he said good-naturedly to her questioning look. "Anyway, if the island wanted us to stay, it would have let us know. It's time now."
It's time, it's time.
They took the last boat: Kate, Jack and their children, along with two crew members. Emma sat in Kate's lap and asked, "When are we going to come back?" Privately, Kate did not believe they ever would, any of them. Jack would scoff, but she thought the island would be hard to find a second time.
Will was boisterous, standing at the wheel with the first mate, who had overseen the evacuation, and asking questions about motors, and movement, and he kept throwing his arms open to the air as if he would begin to fly. Matt was quieter, he found a perch by the front and stared at the island as it grew smaller. Emma waved goodbye, and then turned to Kate and said, "I feel funny. Why does this thing go so fast?" Jack was silent, staring at what they had made and left behind: the church and the ramshackle huts and the large kitchen, the structures all losing coherence as they moved away. In the background, cliffs and mountains rose, green and untouched. It was amazing the ship had spotted them in the first place. From far enough away, it was as if they had never been.
Kate didn't think. She could feel her body hardening to a razor edge, ready for anything. The feeling was at odds with the small bundle of warmth in her lap, and with her husband beside her, who was tired and determined, and her sons, ready for the world. She was in a controlled panic. She would not think about what she was leaving behind, or what she was going to. She would not hurt anyone this time.
Everyone on board the ship seemed to be gathered at the edge of the deck to cheer them in. She could see a section cordoned off, where their people stood and waved. Some of them were wearing new clothes. Some were holding drinks. Dreamlike, Kate waved back, before their boat disappeared into the landing dock. A ramp came out to meet them, thick steel descending to the water, and crew members hauled the boat inside. Kate tightened her hold on Emma as they left the water, and metal clanked on metal. Will had to grab on to the first mate to stay upright.
It was dark and cool inside the landing bay. Kate blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting slowly. The captain was waiting to greet them, surrounded by other crew members, some of whom she had seen before, some she had not. The last boat before them was still being unloaded: Sayid, Rose and Bernard, and Locke stood nearby. The captain, who was in his early forties, handsome, clean cut, was watching Kate. She knew the look.
"Welcome," he said, stepping forward. His eyes flickered to Jack, but then returned to her.
Jack smiled, helped the boys off the boat. "Thanks. We're officially evacuated."
"Not in small part thanks to you." The captain held his hand out and Jack took it, man to man. Kate felt ill. She stood up slowly, and ignored the first mate's helping hand, climbing nimbly over the side of the boat and jumping to the ground. She looked up and met the captain's eyes.
"Kate Austen?" he asked.
"Shephard," she corrected. Jack tensed, noting the exchange. She didn't look at him, that would be too much. She kept her eyes trained on the captain.
"Sorry, Mrs. Shephard," he said. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but we're going to have to ask you to come with us."