A/N: Short-ish chapter. I tried to find a way to transition so that the story doesn't drag on and on; sorry if I left out anything you really, really wanted to see in the intervening time (if it was really important, let me know, maybe I'll stick it in a later chapter as a flashback). Just in case anyone didn't realize, I started this during very early season 3so things do not exactly match up episodes past 3.2 (and in fact, even the happenings of 3.1 and 3.2 are pretty much ignored).
Four months later
"Your coffee, Mrs. Shephard." The name was a special form of mockery. Kate accepted the chipped plastic cup from the prison guard and said, "Thank you." Jane arched her eyebrows in reply. Kate's name was still Austen, here, but the guards seemed to take a special pleasure in reminding her of the husband she didn't really have.
Well, there was still coffee. The jailhouse coffee was bitter, and never hot, but it got her through the morning. Kate moved along, picking up a bowl for cereal and getting in the line for cornflakes.
"Skip the milk." Carla confided, leaning in as she walked by. "It's been sitting out a little too long."
Great, dry cereal. Kate lifted her coffee cup to her face and inhaled, trying to drown out everything else. She took a sip, and almost spit it out as the liquid scalded her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Ow. Gabby, in front of her, turned around to see why she was making that noise, and laughed at her. Kate closed her eyes, pressing her burnt tongue against her teeth. Ow.
She had been in the Adams County Jail for almost three months now, awaiting trial. It was strange how quickly one adjusted to a new life. Already, the world had lost all its color. Already, these people were familiar to her, and her friends were strangers. Sometimes the guards would show her magazines with their pictures — exclusive interviews where they revealed how they made it through the ordeal, sob stories about their families left at home, and how they never gave up hope, coverage of the happy reunions. She was waiting for Sawyer's TV show, but she figured it wouldn't be until the next fall anyway. It was winter in Iowa. She never went outside, but through the barred windows she could see the snow, and when she had visitors they were red-cheeked and taking off their mittens.
Her hand was shaking, holding the coffee cup. Kate focused, stilling herself, and sat down without her cereal. She was okay. She could deal with this. The trial started the next Monday, and Jack was coming to talk things over one last time, and she was fine. She didn't need to go outside. The air in here was air, still, and she had no trouble breathing. She wasn't trapped, she was just waiting.
"Hurry up!" Jane yelled. Kate stared at her coffee and didn't move. It had taken her two months of perfect behavior just to get out of her cell for meals. Kate was the most dangerous inmate in a jail mostly populated with drunks and hookers.
In a sudden burst of energy, she drained her coffee and grabbed an overripe banana. Had to keep her strength up, Jack might bring the kids, after all. She hadn't seen them in days; their absence was a physical ache she could not bear. But he didn't always bring them, if there were grown-up things to discuss.
"Time's up, Austen. Back to your room," Irene ordered, pausing beside her. Kate nodded obediently and stood up, dumping her cup in a tub. Funny how when the Others captured her, she vowed to obey only when they made her, every order was enforced by the threat of violence, and here she just did what they said. The violence existed, they guards all carried clubs, and there were armed guards and electric fences and all sorts of safeguards – but it was different. They were in the right here, and she was in the wrong. This was civilization.
Two federal marshals picked her up in a helicopter about the time Jack and her children were transferred onto their own private cruise ship. Until then she was kept in the ship brig, built for drunks to sleep it off. The captain apologized for the inconvenience; he didn't know what they wanted her for, he was just following orders from above.
She arrived in Iowa for her arraignment when Jack was still in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. That was when she knew she'd made the biggest mistake of her life.
They offered her a phone call, but she had no numbers to call.
She met her lawyer in the courtroom at her arraignment. The judge denied bail, given her history, and the stolen passport they found in the pocket of her jeans when they arrested her. She stared at the small blue rectangle, in an evidence bag held up by the prosecutor. She could be with Sawyer, in Fiji, with sun on her face and bare shoulders. After the judge banged his gavel, they took her back to her cell, two guards, and handcuffs.
They were charging her with murder in the first degree, which held a mandatory life sentence. Also, armed robbery, resisting arrest, escaping from government custody, and document fraud. They were considering adding charges, such as another count of murder (Edward Mars) but they were waiting until they could investigate further. These words meant nothing to her, except that she was going to be inside the same cell forever.
In the beginning, they kept her in that cell 23 hours a day. For one hour, she was allowed to walk up and down the hall (since it was too cold for her to go outside), with her handcuffs on. No one would tell her where her husband or children were. She was not, according to official records, even married.
They put her on suicide watch, and not without reason. All day and night, her arms ached for Emma. She closed her eyes and saw Jack looking steadily at her, as he promised to be at her side. She had dreams of Matt, standing inside her prison cell, and woke up sobbing that she would protect him, and the worst part was that he wasn't there.
She decided she would never love anyone again, because loving meant being trapped. If she didn't love Jack, and her babies, she would not be in a cell, alone. In the future, she would be cold and detached. Since the rest of her life would be spent in jail, she reasoned that this should not be difficult.
She gave up, she shut down. And then Jack came.
He had come as fast as he could, he said. He said a lot of things. They had taken them to L.A., and there was business to work out, his mother had to be seen and reassured. It had been difficult to get answers as to where she was, what was going on. He had spoken to her father. They had driven the whole way; he, and Sun and Jin, and all the kids. They were renting a house. He was there for her. They were all there to help.
This was harder, in some ways, than being alone. Jack still had hope, which was a foreign concept.
At first they wouldn't let the kids in. They didn't have any facilities "secure enough." It amazed Kate what these people thought of her. She tried to imagine what interaction she could have with her children that would require bulletproof glass between them. Did they think she would try to take them hostage? Have them smuggle her a knife? Could they possibly imagine her doing anything besides holding them?
Hurley's lawyer turned the tide. He showed up one day in a slick suit, announcing that he was taking her case, and things were going to change. Things did change; they let her out of her cell three hours a day instead of one. No handcuffs. He said he was all paid for, and he was going to get her off scot free; the latter she did not believe. But, more important, she was allowed to see visitors.
Her children were strangers. Will and Matt wore jeans, real jeans that fit them, without any holes. Will has a Columbia sweatshirt, and Matt was wearing a blue striped sweater. Will had a buzz cut, and Matt's hair was cropped short. They both wore shoes; she had never seen them wear shoes before. Emma was wearing a pink dress and patent leather mary janes. She had a bow in her hair. Kate didn't even know her ragged, dirty island babies in these solemn, neat American children. She tried not to, but she started to cry when they walked in the door. The room was bare, just a table and a couple folding chairs, and she didn't want them to see her here, like this, and she didn't want to know that they were growing up without her. But god, she wanted to touch them, hold them, never let them go.
"Mommy?" Emma whispered, but it turned into a shout, and her baby was back as her small body hurtled across the room and into Kate's lap. Kate was afraid she was hurting her, holding her so tight, but she couldn't seem to let go. She could feel every breath and tremor of the small body nestled against her chest, each precious moment. Will hung back, near her father, and Matt hesitated, looking at his big brother, and then at his mother. Kate held out a hand, still holding Emma tightly to her with the other, and Matt came, big-eyed and trusting and real, really there. She wondered what Jack had told them, about her, but didn't feel up to asking.
Jack came alone that day. Kate locked up that sadness, and tried to focus. The trial was coming up; they'd gone over their stories, all the testimony, all the cross-examination, but there was always more to do. She wanted it to be over, for better or worse, just to have some certainty about her future.
"How are you?" he asked, touching her face. She shrugged, sat down in one of the chairs with her legs drawn up on the edge.
"Looks like you got more snow," she commented.
"Yeah, another foot or so. I think even the kids have gotten tired of it."
She missed their first experience of snow. Their first car ride. Their first movie. Their first ice cream cone. She wondered if Jack had saved her anything, or if it was worth saving anything, since she would be in jail for the rest of her life.
"You should take them sledding," she suggested.
"No hills." he pointed out.
"We used to tie sleds to cars," Kate said, but the look on Jack's face put a quick stop to that line of thought. This was why she was the bad parent, and he was the good parent. Also, because she was in jail.
"Kate," Jack said, his serious tone of voice. She looked at him, worried. He sat down opposite her and put his hand over hers on the table. "I want to talk to you about the kids."
"What about them? Is everything okay?" She sat up, sliding her feet to the floor.
"They're fine," Jack assured her quickly.
"What is it?"
Jack hesitated, and Kate withdrew her hand, preparing to defend herself against whatever he was about to say. "I'm taking them to L.A.," he said finally.
"To visit your mother?" Kate said, trying to sound sure.
"To live with my mother," Jack replied.
No, no. "What are you talking about, Jack?"
"Kate, I know this is going to be hard for you to – Look, the kids need some stability right now. They are totally lost, freaked out – they need a schedule, they need distractions, they need some sense of normalcy. With your trial starting, I'm going to be at court all day. Sun and Jin need to go back to Korea, her father isn't doing well. I've found a private school in L.A., a good school, that's willing to take them at their grade level – Emma can enter their preschool program, and they said they'll set up private tutoring to get Matt and Will up to speed. They need to start school at some point, to start getting adjusted to what life here is going to be like. The sooner the better."
No. "When were you planning on telling me all of this?" Kate asked sharply.
"I'm telling you now."
"You can't – I – Jack, you cannot do this. You can't just take them. They don't even know your mother! How is that going to make them more comfortable? They have lost everything they know, and you just want to shove them off with a stranger—"
"She's my mother, Kate. And I will be there, too, every weekend."
"Oh, that's perfect. That'll be okay then."
"Kate, you do not see them every day, you don't know what they're going through—"
"How can you say that to me?" Kate yelled. She was out of her seat, even though she didn't remember standing up. She finally understood why there was nothing in this room – nothing to throw. "No, I don't see them. I never see them. And now you want to take them across the country?! So they can completely forget about me?"
"That is not the point and you know it! I am trying to do what's best for them. Not for you or me. For them."
"Right, because I'm the selfish one, that thinks children need their parents. I'm the horrible mother. They'll be better off without me!"
"See, you're making it all about you. This is not about you, Kate."
She laughed, bitterly. "Of course it is. I'm the one who put us all here, right? I'm the one that fucked up, and now you're trying to clean up my mess. It's always about that."
"Yes, you're right. You fucked up. And now our children are paying for it. I just want to give them a chance to have something normal, to spend a little time with other children, not cooped up in a house in the middle of nowhere, worrying about what is going to happen—"
"No, you want to turn them into you. You want them to go to a perfect school, and become perfect little citizens, so you can all go on with your lives. You want them to forget me—"
"That is bullshit—"
"Hey!" The door slammed open and an armed guard stepped inside. "Shut up. Opposite sides of the room, now."
Kate bit her tongue, and tried to pretend that was why there were tears in her eyes. Jack stepped back, hands up, and Kate turned away. She could hear the jingle of handcuffs. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Laurie, the guard, asked, as she snapped the handcuffs on her wrists. "We have to report this kind of thing, you know. Outbursts of temper." Kate didn't care. Fuck the trial. What did it matter? Jack was taking her children away. He had promised to be with her, to stand at her side and face it all together, but he was stabbing her in the back. First the kids, and then he would go too, he would slip away and she would be left alone, totally alone, in this prison that she made for herself, but that he pushed her into.
"Kate," Jack said wearily as Laurie pushed her toward the door. She turned her head away, and refused to look at him. She didn't want him to see her crying. She thought of Emma, and her patent leather shoes, and her first day of school. She was going to miss the first day of school.