A/N: Just to reiterate how little this is based in legal reality, it occured to me a couple days ago that most crimes have a statute of limitations, so Kate could not even be tried for many of the crimes she has now been found guilty of. Oops. However, what's done is done, for the purposes of this story.

Feedback is very much appreciated.

Sun testified first at the sentencing hearing. She and Jin had flown back from Korea; before the trial, when she peeked in to say hello, she said it was the excuse they needed to return to the U.S., where they hoped to stay. She testified that Kate was her closest friend on the island, that Kate had asked to work in her garden, and was always bringing plants back from other parts of the island. She spoke of becoming mothers together, of the trials of raising children in a place with no diapers, no bottles, no plastic child safe toys. She testified about conversations they had had, dreams about being rescued, and how Kate spoke of quiet things, of her family. Kate tried to remember that conversation, where they had been, what she had said. The island felt so far away. Her freckles were all fading, and her feet felt normal in heels again. She couldn't conjure the taste of mango melting on her tongue.

Eighteen months was too long. Not what she deserved, but too long anyway. By then the kids would be used to school, would be entirely different people, and Jack would be working, ten hours a day, he would be a doctor, he would meet a nurse, or a patient, and Kate would be an embarrassment, they would not know what to say to her when she emerged.

Hurley testified again. Claire and Charlie. They were living in Los Angeles. Charlie was recording songs he'd written, on the island, and he'd been in magazines, on David Letterman. They'd trundled all the kids into the car and driven out to Iowa, since Claire refused to go anywhere near an airplane. Her parents wanted them to move back to Australia, but neither were in a hurry to go. Charlie talked about their first walk through the jungle, and how Kate insisted on going back for Jack, when the smart thing would have been to run, far and fast. "She's always looking out for people," he said firmly. "If she did all these things – running away from the police, all that – it's because she thought she had to. But she knows what's really important. She was the one, y' know, who everybody trusted right off. She would step in if people were fightin', or being idiots. It's a crime to lock her up. I mean, she's been prisoner on an island for ten years, what more d' you want from a person?"

John Locke testified. He was in a wheelchair, and a woman with brown hair pushed him in and sat beside him holding his hand until he was called. She looked kind. Kate glanced back at Jack, who mouthed, "I'll tell you later," as if nothing was wrong. Maybe nothing was wrong. She didn't know. They hadn't talked.

George and Sally and Jake all testified. Everyone seemed to think very highly of her. Kate was not sure what her behavior on the island had to do with the crimes she had been found guilty of, but DeWitt just kept parading crash victims up there. They all talked about the hardships, the daily struggle, the hopelessness, and how Kate was good humored and helpful, and strong. She thought, I was happy there, that's why they all liked me.

She remembered that feeling, being happy. Year six, she helped Will and Aaron and Hea make a giant sandcastle, with walls so high they could sit inside and not be seen, and turrets, and tiny windows. They didn't know what a castle was supposed to look like, so the turrets were rectangular, not pointed, and the windows were low to the ground, so they had to lie on their stomachs to look through.

Sometimes she and Sun would stay in the garden late, long after they should have put their children to bed and gone to sleep. They knew someone else would. They would talk, and talk, of silly things, of adolescent crushes and coveted shoes, of movies and first periods, and bad hair cuts. She had never been very good at female friendships, she had always been one of the boys, or the one the boys wanted. Other girls didn't like that. But she and Sun were happy, sitting among the rows giggling, and talking of nothing.

Before the children had a separate shelter, she and Jack would sneak away with a quiet whisper to a friend. They made love under the waterfall, and on the grass of a meadow, and once against a tree (she had splinters, later, and refused to give that a second try). They lay down on the damp sand, just where the waves lapped their toes, and were stupidly happy, counting stars, and scars (Kate had more, but just), and whispering even though no one was there to overhear.

She liked to watch Jack be a father. He had this look of absolute wonder, and even though she knew that every man looked at his babies that way, she could never quite believe that anyone else felt it so deeply. The first time Will was hurt – he slipped and hit his head on a rock – was the only time she had ever seen Jack panic. He sat up all night, watching Will sleep, even though he was fine, absolutely fine. She loved that. She loved even more when they taught him how to play, when he chased his sons down the beach and caught them up, tickling, laughing, dignity forgotten as they wrestled in the sand. She would join in, occasionally, when she couldn't help herself; she wanted it to be Jack's time, she wanted him to have this with his sons, but sometimes she could not watch anymore, and she would leap into the fray, tickling everything in arm's reach, until Will climbed on top of her and pinned her and Jack both to the ground, sand in their hair and mouths, breathless, and they would kiss, surreptitiously, while the boys proclaimed their triumph. She was happy then.

She knew she should be happy now. She was not going to prison for life. She had, against all odds, been exonerated of a crime for which she was guilty. She had taken a man's life, without sacrificing her own. But, even eighteen months was too long. Maybe it was too late for her to be happy. Maybe it was stolen happiness; maybe Jack only really loved her on the island. Maybe this was her punishment.

Jack took the stand for the second time, on the morning of the second day of the sentencing hearing. She wore her hair down, in some strange hope that he might remember how it felt when he put his hands in it.

"Are you a lawful man, Mr. Shephard? You follow the rules?"

"Always. I'm a doctor. You can't take on that kind of responsibility if you're not willing to bend to rules."

"What do you mean?"

Jack looked down for a second, his eyebrows drawing together, and then look back up, clear. "My father was an alcoholic," he said. "And a doctor. He killed a woman, a pregnant woman, because he was drunk at work one day."

"He killed her accidentally?"

"Yes. I guess I should say… he didn't save her."

"Mr. DeWitt, is this relevant?" the judge asked.

"It speaks to the credibility and character of the witness, Your Honor. I'm confident you'll see the relevance if you let me continue."

"Go ahead."

DeWitt turned back to Jack. "And what happened to your father?"

"He asked me to lie for him, so he wouldn't lose his medical license. At first I… did. He was my father, he'd made a mistake. It's possible the woman would not have survived anyway. But I couldn't go through with it. I told the hospital committee the truth, and my father lost his license. He drank himself to death in Australia."

"Do you regret your decision to tell the truth, knowing the consequences?"

"No. Because I know what the consequences would have been if I had lied."

"Thank you, Mr. Shephard. Now, could you tell me please, honestly, do you think your wife is a danger to society?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why not? She's been convicted in this court room of breaking the law. We heard testimony in the criminal trial that she recklessly put other people's lives in danger. You're a man who abides by the rules. You testified against your father, for the good of society. Why are you here, now, testifying for your wife?"

There was a beat, and Kate waited for Jack to say that he wasn't, he was wrong, she was a liar and a menace and should be locked up. He looked straight at her and said, "Because she's changed."

"Changed in what way?"

"When I first met Kate, I didn't trust her, and maybe then, I was right to. I said in the trial, and it's true, that she was always a leader, right from the beginning. But back then, she would lie about things that didn't… that only ended up hurting her. It was like she didn't know how to tell the truth, about anything that mattered." Kate tensed, remembering the case, remembering futile, wasted, blighted moments between them. He thought she had changed. That meant he forgave her. "She was scared and hurt; she'd lost or been betrayed by everyone she'd loved, including herself. So she was dishonest, and it's entirely possible she did bad things before the crash, she broke the rules and hurt people while doing it. But trapped there, she couldn't run away anymore, she had to learn to live where she was, with the people around her.

"And she did learn, better than anyone. It was hard, and it took time, but we had a lot of time." He smiled faintly, shook his head. "I watched her change. I didn't always trust what I was seeing, but I saw it. She stopped lying. She followed the rules – she helped make the rules. What happened when the ship rescued us was only the result of years of difficult, slow, incredible change. She could have tried to run, then, tried to take the kids with her, or used them somehow to maneuver herself into a better position – but she didn't. She let herself be arrested. If I hadn't testified against my father, he would have kept drinking at work, would have been responsible for more deaths; he had always chosen alcohol, and he always would. But Kate chose our family." He stopped, choked up, and Kate wanted to hold out her hands to him, wanted to kiss him and say that she was sorry, for making him sit in front of a room of people and say these things, but that he was right, he was right, she had chosen, she had chosen him, as strongly as she knew how. He took a deep breath and looked right at her. "I believe that she will keep choosing our family," he said, "so no, I don't think she's any danger to anyone. She's changed."

He didn't say it in so many words, but she knew he was apologizing. And she knew nothing was ever final, and that a year from now, ten years from now, they would still have this argument, about Sawyer, about her past, about his judgment and her failure. But that was okay, because they would be together in a year, in ten years. Well, in eighteen months, in ten years. Kate felt the tears welling and had to dab at them quickly with her fingers. There was a future, still. There was hope. DeWitt better know what the hell was talking about, because she wanted to marry her husband, again, and make love to him on a real bed.

The prosecution only called one witness: Tom's wife, Rachel. Former wife, she was remarried now, had a different last name. She was blond, still pretty, but down to earth. She wouldn't look at Kate.

"Tell us about your husband, Tom Brendon."

"He was… so good. Kind, funny. We fell in love in med school. He was one of those guys you could always depend on. And such a good father – he really loved Connor, our son. He would get so excited about every little thing Connor did – grabbing his toes, or his first word, or when learned how to laugh…" She stopped, put a hand over her mouth. Kate found herself doing the same, without meaning to. She could see Tom as a father. Once, they had planned to have children, hordes of children. She had never had the heart to tell him that she didn't want any. What would he say if he saw her now?

"What did you know about his relationship with Kate Austen?"

"I knew they were old friends, that they'd dated in high school. He was sort of defensive about her, because I didn't understand how he could speak so fondly of a murderer."

"Objection," DeWitt said.

"Noted. Mrs. Williams, Kate Austen was exonerated of murder charges."

"I heard."

"Go on."

"How did your husband die?"

"He was in the car with her – with the defendant. I never knew exactly why… if she kidnapped him, or forced him into the car, or if he was trying to help her. He was in the passenger seat, and she was running from the police. They ordered her to stop, but she wouldn't, so they opened fire. Tom was shot, multiple times."

"What happened then, Mrs. Williams?"

"She left him there," Rachel murmured. "She left him." Her voice gained strength with every word, twisted and in pain. "They were right in front of a hospital, but she didn't try to help him, she didn't try to save him, she didn't even pause to mourn, she just left him, to die. She killed him, and then she left him to die."

No one had ever hated her that much before. She herself had hated, she had hated with that force and passion, and with less justification. But no one had ever hated Kate that way. She wanted to tell Rachel how it really was, wanted to tell her that Tom had been gone already, that there was nothing she could have done then, that the only way to honor his death had been to keep running, or else it was for nothing, she couldn't let it be for nothing— She wanted to tell her that she'd loved him, and she was sorry, sorrier than she had been for anything, and she mourned him every day. She wanted to tell her all these things, but it was Tom's wife's right to hate her, and she couldn't take that away. She was the bad guy, here… everywhere. She had been found not guilty for one murder, but she knew, and Rachel knew, that there were other crimes on her conscience.

Jack came to see her in the jail while the judge was deliberating her sentence. "I have roommates now," she reported when he sat down across the table from her. They had let him visit in the normal visiting room now, since she was only a normal criminal and not a murderer. Another woman sat at the opposite end of the table with her sister, looking at pictures of something. "They moved me out of solitary."

"Is it like a sleepover?" he asked, picking up her light tone.

"I was never invited to sleepovers," Kate admitted. "Not the ones with girls anyway…" He arched his eyebrows questioningly, and she smiled.

"We had a kind of reunion dinner last night. Everyone's staying until the sentence comes back, so the hotel is a little crazy," Jack reported.

"Did they give you a group rate? Weddings, funerals, criminal trials…"

"I don't think that's on the list, no."

Kate's eyes flickered over his face, drinking in his closeness, his relaxed look. It was okay, they were okay.

"How is everybody? Why is Locke in a wheelchair?"

"I'm not sure, actually," Jack said. "When we left the island, he started using one. He didn't want to talk about it."

"Doesn't that drive him crazy? I can't imagine Locke confined—"

"I know. But he seems okay, actually. The way he talks about it is as if he knew. And he's engaged now, to the woman who came with him to court. I think he knew her before the crash."

"That's nice. You'll have to bring me pictures of the wedding." She looked down at the table. Everyone was starting their lives again, settling in. She was stuck here, in perpetual limbo.

"Speaking of weddings," Jack said. "When are we going to be legally married?"

She looked up again, her lips twitching. "You just want that conjugal visit." Jack smiled, ducking his head. She reached across the table to touch him, her index finger stroking the skin between his thumb and palm of his hand.

"Let's see what the sentence is," she said. "If it's not too long, maybe we can wait, and have a real wedding."

"Not too big."

"No. But I know a few people in a nearby hotel who might kill us if we got married without inviting them again."

They talked about his work; Jack had to finish his residency, but he was considering switching to internal medicine. Spinal surgery had advanced while he was gone, and he would have to begin all over again, on top of which surgery was extremely time consuming, and Jack wanted to have more time to spend with the kids. Left unsaid was that Kate might not be there to fill in for him. She thought about Jack's mother, and how she would help out until Kate could go home. Even if it was only two years, or three, that would be half of Emma's life. Mrs. Shephard would be as much her mother as Kate was. Jack noticed her distraction, but she shrugged it off, and he went on. Internal medicine was what he knew now, what he had been doing for the past ten years, and it would be easier to transfer into private practice as a general practitioner with certification in internal medicine. She wondered what he wasn't saying, about surgery, about his own driving professional ambition, exactly how much he was prepared to sacrifice. She didn't ask, because she didn't want to know; she was privately, guiltily, glad he was moving to a less demanding specialty, even if it wasn't what he was passionate about. They all made choices.

Sawyer called in the morning, before the judge returned with the sentence. "I heard today's the big day," he said in his familiar drawl.

Kate was surprised to hear his voice; there had been no word, all these months. "I guess it is."

"That all you got to say, Freckles?"

"How are you, Sawyer?"

"Me? I'm dandy. I told you I'd get that money out of Hurley – thought it'd be a lot harder'n it was, but I'm not complaining."

"Yeah, I never would have guessed that he was rich. He's been paying for my lawyer, so I owe him now, really."

"Well ain't that sweet. Is everyone there, all singing campfire songs and talking about the good old days?"

"I don't know. I mean, a lot of people came to testify. But I've only seen them in court." There was a long pause and Kate leaned her forehead against the wall of the phone cubby. Why was he calling now? How much, she wondered, did he know. For instance, had he heard about the passport? It didn't matter, she supposed. It was unlikely that they would see each other again. When she got out, she was going to be a doctor's wife, and money or no money, he would always be a con man. Maybe he would try to con her someday. "It's good to hear your voice, Saywer."

"Yeah, well. Just called to say congratulations for wiggling out of the murder charges. And, uh, good luck, today. You give me a call when you bust out of there. And by 'there' I mean your so-called marriage."

She closed her eyes. "I will, Sawyer." But she never would. "Thank you." There was only silence; he had already hung up the phone.

The judge had taken a full day to consider the evidence and the sentencing recommendations of both the prosecution and the defense. When he came back, just over a week after the verdict was returned, he didn't waste time with preliminaries.

"The defendant left quite a mess behind her as she ran from law enforcement for three years. But, due to some quite extraordinary circumstances, she was given something of a reprieve, in which to consider her behavior, and we've had abundant testimony that suggests she did so and came to a very positive conclusion. Perhaps, as the defendant noted in her testimony during the trial, it was chance, and perhaps it was something more; this, we cannot judge. What we can judge though, is fair punishment for the crimes committed. For the crime of resisting arrest, we sentence the defendant to six months in custody. For the crime of escaping from custody, we sentence the defendant to six months in custody. For the crime of armed robbery, we sentence the defendant to five years in custody. For the crime of identification fraud, we sentence the defendant to two years in custody.

"The full sentence of nine years we consider served in full, based on the defendant's tenure on an island devoid of human civilization for a period of ten years; this is, to our mind, punishment enough, and the defendant's rehabilitation in this setting is at least as, if not more, complete than it would be in a state facility. The defendant is ordered to serve three years probation, and is now free to go."