A/N: Hey, everyone! I'm afraid the updates might be slowing down a little bit for the next few weeks due to the fact that I have to get started on summer reading for my AP class for next year. I'm not really sure if my writing is going to be affected by that or not, but its possible I won't be able to work on it as often. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you guys like the chapter!
Disclaimer: I still don't own it…
All The Right Reasons
Chapter 11: The Unexpected
There was no time to register what was happening, or even to breath, as Jack was lifted up from the ground suddenly and slammed with a deafening force against the cement wall to the side of him. Pain coursed through his body like a giant wave, zigzagging over his entire being. He groaned in that split second after his body made impact with the wall, that single moment before all hell broke loose.
In the back of his mind, he heard Kate scream, voice coming out in a ragged shriek. She had called his name, shouting somehow for them to stop. Their only response to her cries was to lunge at Jack once more, throwing him to the side like a broken rag doll. He came crashing down onto the cold cement floor, head sliding with an unbearable force into the opposite wall, dizzying his already disoriented vision.
They were on him again in an instant, this time coming as a forceful kick to his ribs, then another into his gut as he rolled onto his side, writhing in pain. He gasped, choking on his own breath as he fought to draw in air. He coughed, wheezing painfully as they continued to force him farther against the wall with blow after blow.
Through it all, Jack could hear her screaming. He could hear the agony in her voice, the terror stricken shrieks all there. And for a moment, Jack wondered if they were hurting her somehow. He couldn't see her just now, but after a moment he realized that she was only crying for him, watching in horror as they beat him without mercy.
Without warning, Jack was jerked up by the neck of his battered white shirt, his feet lifted momentarily off the ground to dangle in the air as he was once again shoved roughly against the harsh cement wall behind him. He caught his breath just as he felt his feet touch the floor, unable to balance himself as he was held firmly in place by one of the two men.
Jack blinked his eyes furiously, trying to clear his vision but was met instead by unexpected punch to his lower stomach, and then another just as fast to his side. His chest heaved, stomach lurching as he was punched again and again, the blows seemingly never ending.
And then it all stopped. It was as though a sudden roll of silence had washed over the room. Jack waited a few moments, breathing hard as his vision slowly began to clear and he could breath again. He could see clearly the man that had held him to the wall, and his partner that had hit him while he was restrained. He saw Kate sitting in the far corner of the room, shoulders heaved in front of her as she sobbed uncontrollably, unable to tear her eyes from his broken form.
The torn sounds of her whimpering and cries never left his ears as his eyes fell on the final figure in the room. The one he was only now noticing. It was a man who appeared to be somewhere in his late forties to early fifties. He had a short cropped beard and a scruffy looking tumble of fiery red curls. His face was washed over with a splash of freckles, what appeared to be once pale skin was lightly tanned from time spent in the sun.
There was the smallest of smiles playing at the corner of his bearded mouth, his whiskers tickling his chin as he let out a low chuckle, "Let him down, Tom," he ordered to the stalky man that held Jack effortlessly against the cold cement wall.
Without a word, the man called Tom loosened his grip on the collar of Jack's shirt, letting him fall harshly to the floor. Jack groaned loudly as a stinging pain coursed through him upon impact, his other aches now resurfacing with a vengeance.
The man that Jack knew now was obviously in charge took a slow, almost cocky step forward, moving to stand in front of Jack. Bending down, he put himself at eye level with Jack, his forest green eyes gazing menacingly back at him, tearing through his falsely friendly smile. Jack watched in disgust as the man's lips twisted further into a grin, that demented smile stretching farther along his face.
"Well now, Jack, you didn't think you could keep her from me, did you?" his voice was gruff, the only smoothness coming from his educated tone. His green eyes sparkled with a sick amusement as he gazed thoughtlessly at Jack, that same old grin never faltering. At the look on Jack's face, the man laughed.
"Let this serve as a reminder, Jack," he stepped closer, his breath now falling on Jack's face. It smelled of strong whisky and cheap cigars, "We aren't at your little caves. I am in control now, Jack. Anything I do, anything I choose for her, you have no say in it."
Jack was silent, listening as the man's voice grew deadly quiet. The man took a step back, snapping his fingers and motioning to the man called Tom and the other that Jack didn't know. Tom stepped forward first, nailing Jack hard in the face with a clenched fist. Another blow caught Jack harshly in the face. Again Kate's screams as she pleaded for all of it to just stop met Jack's ears, and for that moment he drifted away from the pain of it all and all he longed for were for her screams to stop.
Almost inaudibly came another snap of the man's fingers and again without a word Tom stepped away from Jack, popping his knuckles gruffly as he shuffled away.
"Are we clear now, Jack?" the man asked, voice as harsh as the now painful rays of light streaming down upon Jack from the ceiling with an unnatural brightness and intensity, "Or do I need to drive the point further?"
Before Jack could think to respond in anyway, even just to mock the man, he watched as a look of utter annoyance fell over the man's face. He watched as the man turned away from him, and Jack strained himself to follow the man's gaze when to his horror, his eyes fell on Kate. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, crying harder than she had been before. Her entire body was shaking as she slowly rocked herself back and forth, her knees brought defensively up to her chest.
"Quiet her, Tom," the order hit Jack harder than any of Tom's blows had. Suddenly, it was as if time stood still, like everything was in slow motion. He saw the look of amused understanding cross Tom's face, and the irritation burning deep within the leader's forest green eyes. And suddenly it was as though Jack was in another place. Another time. A distant memory as a boy flashing through his vision in that split second.
"It's your choice man, walk away now and you won't get your ass kicked…" The bully's words still rang clear in Jack's mind, the warning in them obvious, but more visible still was the choice behind them.
But more than anything about that day, more than the bully and more than the stinging ache of the black eye Jack had gotten, was the look on Mark's face as the other boys pummeled him. The desperate way he had gazed at Jack for that split second in time, silently pleading with him for help.
Jack saw that same look now as Kate's eyes flashed over to his own, meeting his gaze with such a fierce intensity. There was a look of utter horror beneath her gaze, and whether she knew it or not, her eyes begged him for deliverance even though every fiber of Jack's being knew that this was something Kate would never ask of him.
He made his choice then as time suddenly came flooding back to him at full speed. He was on his feet with such a strength that he hardly knew he had, the pain rushing through his limbs and body meaningless to him as he ran at the man.
"No!" he heard the strangled cry, and it was only moments later that he realized it was his own voice that had uttered it.
"You should've stayed down, Jack…" The final words that the bully had spoken to him played over in Jack's head, just as everything came to a sudden halt.
Just before Jack could reach Tom, a hand came seemingly out of nowhere, gripping tightly to the back of his shirt. A phantom force jerked him back, throwing him down to the floor as he slid back the way he came. It was as he hit the floor that Tom reached Kate, wordlessly backhanding her across the cheek. She cried out, voice hoarse from crying and then toned down to a tiny whimper.
Jack tried to jerk back to his feet but was forced down as the other man in the room, now accompanied by Tom threw him back down, kicking him hard in the ribs. Another swift kick caught him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him so that he could hardly breath. He felt the pain of all the old blow resurfacing with a vengeance.
As the two men stepped away from him, Jack lay in an exhausted heap on the floor, body curled on his side. He knew that he couldn't have moved or tried to fight back again in any way at that time, even if he had wanted to.
"You weren't listening, Jack!" the man, the one that appeared to be the leader was suddenly in Jack's face again, eyes blazing with anger. He showed no sign of caring that Jack was fighting for air, drawing in hard, ragged breaths as he struggled to make his eyes focus, "That seems to be a common habit of yours. Don't think I've forgotten about Walt. Don't think I've forgotten the instructions you were left with concerning the boy. That will be dealt with soon enough."
Jack watched distantly, mind in a haze as the man turned away from him to look to the other two men in the room. Snapping his fingers, the man nodded towards Kate, "Take the girl. We'll deal with him later."
He was hardly aware as the two men roughly grabbed at Kate, pulling her up by her arms to stand. She stumbled, only to receive a sharp blow to the face from Tom, her jerked her none too gently back to her feet. She fought them only for a moment, screaming at them, almost sobbing as they pulled her away.
Her eyes met Jack's then, that same desperate plea there, begging him to get up. To be okay. Her eyes were red from crying with no more tears left to fall. The look she gave him then was one of guilt, of worry as she watched him laying there, unmoving. Deathly still. He drew in a sharp breath then, a sign of life for her. She clamped her eyes shut then, as though overcome by it all, at seeing him this way.
The look only lasted a moment, but to Jack it was an eternity. It was a look that would never leave his mind. A vision he would carry with him until the day he died. It was so haunted, so defeated as though overcome with guilt and pain. And if anything, out of all that had just happened, it was that look alone that broke him. That made him lie still and cooperate. Because they had her. What they had just done to him, they could just as easily have done to her. The man had as much as said so, warning Jack that she was under his control.
Jack still lay there, unmoving on the cold cement floor as the thick metal door of his cell was slammed roughly closed, leaving him alone to face his thoughts, knowing that he had failed her. That he had failed himself.
"You should've stayed down, Jack…"
Night had fallen over the caves hours ago, slowly enveloping the tiny civilization into a blanket of darkness. It was clear out, probably the most cloudless sky the survivors had seen yet on the island. There was an endless expanse of stars, each illuminating its own spot in a brilliant array of tiny lights dotted over the sky.
This wasn't the first time that Charlie had watched such a display since the crash. No, he had spent many nights under the comfort of the stars, unable to sleep as he took in their beauty. This ritual had started for him just after he had given up his drugs to Locke, surrendering everything that he had thought he needed. Many sleepless nights had followed that day, but Charlie had hardly been in the right mindset to enjoy the brilliant night sky.
It was only after Claire had been taken that he had truly picked up the habit. There was something about loss, something about the utter vulnerability of the human mind that made star gazing such a tempting habit. He had seen things on those lonely nights that he had never imagined could be a part of nature. Clearly he had been missing out on something great, something that now fascinated him.
He often mused that if he weren't on this island and if he was still a part of Driveshaft, he would have the easiest time writing songs now. He was sure that he could find the inspiration to make hits out here. There was just something about the stars and the vast amount of sky they covered that opened up the mind.
Tonight though, he was out under the stars for a very different reason than leisure or song writing. Just this afternoon, Sayid had broke the news to all of the survivors that Jack had deserted them, off on some mad quest to find Kate. Though the one time soldier hadn't voiced his doubts, Charlie knew straight away that Sayid had no reason at all to hope that Kate was even still alive. Maybe he didn't even think Jack could have survived this long, and it had only been a night and half a day since he had left.
He supposed it didn't matter if either were alive, as grim as that may sound. Sayid had said as much, talking about how now they had to focus on those her were alive. And it made sense. In an odd, Lord of the Flies kind of way, it really made sense. Human life meant so little here because once it was gone, there was no use in meddling with it any longer. It was survival of the fittest. That wasn't to say that no one was to care for anyone else. Things always seemed to pan out just the opposite.
In another sense, perhaps human life meant all together more here, stranded on this island. Maybe the fact that there were only so many survivors, only so many real people left here ought to be taken into consideration. When a person is stuck on and island in the middle of nowhere without a rescue in sight, people grow close. The same people interact day in and day out and they depend on one another in ways that could never be possible in the real world. So maybe death meant more here. Maybe it hurt more.
But what it all came down to was that Jack was gone. The leader, the only doctor, had left them and they had no reason to hope that he would make it back alive. Sayid had warned them too of the looming threat of the Others. They had practically taken Kate right out from under each of their noses and if they did it once, then they would try it again. And chances are, under the current circumstances, they would succeed.
So Sayid had proposed they make a change. Many changes, actually. He said they needed to go on the defensive and make the caves a safer place to live. To start with, he had taken volunteers for sentries to guard the perimeter of the caves. Charlie had been the first to lend a hand to that. There would be shifts all through the night and even during the day.
And that was how Charlie had come to be up in the higher branches of a tree just outside the caves. Sayid had said that they didn't have the time to make more comfortable guarding stations, so the trees and the ground would have to do for now. Charlie wasn't sure which frightened him more. The idea of being stuck in this tree while a group of cannibal type island natives circled its base, refusing to let him down or being on the ground while he was chased through the jungle by the very same people.
In the end, Charlie had chosen the tree. He figured that this way, he would have an easier time calling for help in case of an emergency attack. He wasn't one to fight. He never had been. He had always been the cowering boy that was half the size of all the others in his class when he was in school. The one that the bullies loved to torture the most, just because it was easy. But Charlie knew now that if it came to it, he would fight the best he could. He was no ex-soldier like Sayid or some slightly insane hunting expert like Locke, but he would do what he could, as little as that may be.
The night was so quiet and it made Charlie feel eerily alone. He knew it was silly. The caves were only a yell away. Other guards were probably less than a hundred feet away. But he felt alone just now. Like it was just him and the sky, alone amongst the scattered trees.
Starting to grow bored and needing something, anything just to keep himself awake, Charlie snapped a leaf off of the end of a branch that had been dangling just in front of his face. He rubbed the tip of his finger over it, holding it loosely between finger and thumb. Sitting there idly tearing tiny strips off of the leaf, Charlie almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing.
It was the sound of a twig snapping underfoot that sent him from his silent reverie, pushing him back into reality. Suddenly alert from the sound, Charlie jumped where he sat, nearly falling from the tree as he did so. Cursing under his breath and struggling to pull his dangling legs back up to where he had been sitting, Charlie braced himself by wrapping his arms around the branch and forcing himself back up.
The sound came again, maybe a little closer this time. It was like leaves crunching underfoot, maybe even a light rustling of branches and foliage. Charlie strained his ears to listen for more, heart hammering like a freight train. Was it them? Were they back for someone else? His mind flashed to Claire and the baby then. They had wanted them once, what would stop them from wanting them now?
Again came the noise. This time it was definitely closer. Straining his eyes, Charlie knew he hadn't been mistaken this time. There was without a doubt a figure out in the trees, prowling along like a cat through the foliage. Amazingly, Charlie could somehow make him out in the dark, though it was difficult to keep sight of him.
Crouching back into the safety of the tree branches, hiding himself from view, Charlie let out a loud yell, just as Sayid had told him to if anything like this were to happen. Even if it might be a false alarm, Sayid had said he wanted to know.
"Hey!" Charlie yelled as loudly as he could, knowing that everyone at the caves would hear him along with the rest of the nearby guards, "Hey! Over here! I saw something!"
It was quiet. An eerie kind of quiet that can only be found so often in a world full of noisy civilizations and technology. It was the kind of quiet that drove Jack mad. The kind that made the very air around him feel heavy. It weighed on him, the silence of it all. The loneliness. He could feel it. It made his heart pound wildly within his chest. Made him long for a noise, any kind of sound, just to stop the quiet. Just to make it all end.
Because to Jack, silence was death. It was the end. It reminded him of times he'd rather forget, memories that seemed to never fade over time. As a doctor, there was never silence in his work. Always the frantic rush of the OR, the voices of nurses as they hurried through the halls. The creaking sound as the swinging doors opened and closed, new patients being brought in all the time.
Even at the operating table itself, there was hardly ever quiet. His voice would split the air constantly as he worked, barking orders at the interns and nurses at hand. Always the sound of the BP monitor, the mechanical noises from all of the needed equipment.
The only silences that ever came in surgery were the dangerous ones. The ones that meant he was lost. That he didn't know what to do. Only then would the room fall seemingly silent. No one around him ever dared to question him then, not wanting to interrupt the frantic thought process soaring through his mind. But the silence was still there, looming over him as though it was taunting his failure, pointing it out for everyone to see. For Jack, silence almost always meant death.
He thought of her then, just as surely as he thought about the silence. As if it was possible for him not to think of her now. She weighed on him just as the quiet did, every iota of pressure falling down on him with a vengeance. They had taken her from him once again, this time hitting way closer to home. This time he had watched them take her. They had done it right in front of him as though they were taunting him somehow, rubbing it in his face that they could do it anytime.
Every inch of him ached from the fight he had put up against them. It had been hopeless all along, and a part of Jack had known that. He was sure that somehow, from the very moment they had entered the room to take Kate away, he had known there was nothing he could do about it. But he had tried. And he wanted to think that he had done all that he could to stop them. But had he? Had he really given it his all? Had he fought against them the best that he could, taking all the risks he could possibly take? There was a part of him that came in the form of his father's voice that told him otherwise.
Jack's eyes burned as his thoughts were tied to her, to Kate, but he didn't have any tears left to cry. His eyes were red from the ones he had already shed. He was almost glad that she wasn't there to see him now. To see what it was like when he lost all hold of himself, when he broke down, letting the walls around him crumble. He had never cried when he was younger. His father would have shamed him for days to come, calling him weak and a disappointment. Maybe that was what made it such a natural reaction for him now as an adult when he just couldn't take what life threw at him anymore.
He couldn't think of what might be happening to her now. Couldn't consider what it was they were capable of and just how much they could do to her. It was something that had almost been easy for him to ignore after she had first gone missing, but now that he was here with her and he had seen the harsh nature of the Others, he couldn't escape the thoughts of it. Jack had seen her, he had seen what she had wanted so badly to hide from him. The purple bruises to her face and the ones that had riddled her arms and the rest of her body. The violent cuts and scrapes, all marks of a terrible kind of abuse.
As if the physical evidence of what they had done to her hadn't been enough. Jack had seen the haunted look in her eyes, the rush of tears that had poured down her face. He had heard her cries and the desperation that was screaming with every inch of her body. Everything about her told what had happened to her.
The thing that struck him the hardest were the tiny red dots that went up and down her arms and the side of her neck. He had known right away what they were and it made his blood boil with anger. They were pricks from a needle. A syringe, to be more specific. He knew what it must mean. Testing. They were experimenting with her somehow, using her for tests of some sort. He knew it. In the pit of his stomach he knew that that was exactly what they were using her for and it brought up an anger in him that he could never imagine.
As he sat there hunched against the wall, knees bent as he stretched out his legs, head buried in his hands, he couldn't tear his mind off of it all. Off of Kate and what had happened to her. What was still happening to her. He rubbed his face lightly with his hands, feeling a soaring ache in the places where he had been hit. He had been a fool to think he could stop them. He could feel the cool, copper taste of blood in his mouth, dripping from his lips.
"Don't let them take me, Jack…"
He didn't think he could ever get the ring of her words out of his mind, ever repeating in his head. It went on like a mantra, stuck in a seemingly never ending cycle. Rubbing his face, Jack lifted his head from his hands to gaze around the emptiness of the room. It was his first real look at the place. Before they had come for Kate, just after the lights had come on, things had been far to chaotic for him to really study his surroundings.
Wearily, Jack's eyes fell on the large metal door. It was the only way in and the only way out. It had a menacing look about it, a terrible feel to it. But staring at the door now, mind in a whirl of emotions, Jack noticed something odd to it, something that was strikingly familiar.
Towards the middle of the door, just above where a handle should have been, there was a symbol etched into the metal surface. From where he was sitting, with his vision slightly blocked out by the swelling of his bruised eye, Jack couldn't tell much about it except that it was highlighted in a black paint and was the shape of a hexagon. There was something to strikingly familiar about it, but Jack couldn't quite place it.
Needing a distraction, Jack forced a curiosity to flow into him, he willed for his mind to travel to the symbol on the door. He wanted to understand it, if only to distract himself from everything else. If only to forget about her.
Nearing the door, Jack saw that within the black outlines hexagon was a series of lines that paralleled one another, almost like a web. It was then that Jack realized what had been so familiar and it almost knocked him off his feet from the shock of it. Shoving his hand hastily into the pocket of his jeans, Jack fished around hopefully, praying that it was still there. That they hadn't found it and taken it from him.
He felt the smallest wave of success as his fingers brushed the cold metal of the lighter Rousseau had given him. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he realized what he had suspected all along. The marking on the door and the logo engraved onto the lighter were very nearly the same, down to the word 'DHARMA' that had been etched just below the center of each.
Eyes wide, Jack let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. Studying the two symbols, Jack noticed that there was only one difference between the two. The one on the lighter had the likeness of a swan scratched onto its surface, directly in its center. The one painted onto the door had a very different symbol at its center, but one that Jack recognized immediately, to his bewilderment.
He knew right away that it was the universal symbol of psychology, taken in the form of the Greek letter "psi". It was shaped much like a fork, but Jack knew that it stood for much more than that. He briefly remembered the short, introduction to psychology that he had had to take as a course during his first semester in medical school. One of the first things the professor had lectured on was the symbol for psychology and what it stood for. The lesson rang clear in Jack's mind.
The Greek letter had been formed in the likeness of a trident, which was a show of allegiance to Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea. It served as the first letter for the Greek term "psuche", which Jack remembered had literally been translated into "psyche." It stood for studies dealing with an imbalance of the mind or spirit.
Jack's heart raced as he wondered what this could mean. What was a psychology symbol doing here? He thoughts of his previous assumptions about Kate, that she had been used as some sort of test subject. His mind fell into a whirl, his thoughts biting harshly at his consciousness. With a groan, he pushed the thoughts away, blinking furiously to fight at the guilt that burned against his conscience.
He drove himself to think of Dharma, and what it could possibly be about. He thought of the lighter and of the similar symbol he had seen no the cell door, and he found himself in a mix of confusion. Was this what Rousseau had wanted him to see? Was he on his way to the conclusions she had intended? Everything just seemed so blurry just now, nothing seemed right.
He wondered what the connection was between Dharma and the Others. He didn't question that there was one, because he knew there had to be. What was even more puzzling though was the difference in the two symbols he had come across. He looked back down to the lighter, running his thumb over its smooth surface. He wasn't certain, but he had a hint that this meant there were other stations out there, just like this one. Maybe even on this island.
Jack's mind immediately fell to the hatch. The large metal door that seemed so randomly placed in the middle of the jungle bore an eerie resemblance to all of this, even the cell they had locked him and Kate in. What were the chances really, that something so well placed, something that so screamed of civilization could not somehow be connected to all of this.
What had they stumbled upon out in the jungle, he had to ask himself. Just what had they blown open little more than a week and a half ago. Jack found himself inwardly hoping that they wouldn't try to explore the hatch just yet. A part of him never wanted to know what was inside. Somehow, he had a terrible sense of foreboding about the whole thing. And then he couldn't help but wonder what the hell he and the other survivors had come crashing into.
Sayid nearly jumped out of his skin as a loud yell pierced the chill night air, breaking the stony silence that had existed only moments before. He felt himself kick into action, registering the call for help in his mind, just as it continued to ring in his ears.
Within moments, two of the other guards on duty for the night had rushed up to where he still stood. There were several shouts in the distance, and Sayid knew that the rest of the guards too had heard the call and were responding to it. In his mind, he quickly took count of who stood before him. He saw Mark, the young man who had felt so guilty about Kate disappearing during his guard shift at the caves. The other was a man that Sayid had only just met this night, but couldn't recall the name of.
Only seconds passed as all of this took place in Sayid's mind. When another shout spread across the chill night air, he knew right away who it was. He couldn't mistake the thick British accent, laced with panic as it was forced into a yell.
"It's Charlie!" Sayid all but hissed to the two men, voice coming out in a harsh whisper, "We need to spread out! Mark, I want you to head for Charlie's post straight from here. And you," Sayid pointed to the man he didn't know, "I want you to run off to your right and then head back in when you are lined up with the post. I'll come in from the other side…"
The two younger men didn't need to be told twice as each ran from Sayid, stumbling off to do as he had said. Neither did Sayid waste another moment. He broke immediately into a run, heading off towards Charlie's scream and hoping that he would be able to keep this situation in hand. There was a chance that it was only a false alarm, that Charlie had mistakenly seen some sort of animal in the foliage or possibly nothing at all. But there was something in the young Brit's voice that made Sayid certain that this wasn't going to be a drill.
As he ran, bolting through the thick expanse of trees before him, Sayid reached blinding behind himself, pulling the nine millimeter from the hem of his faded brown cargo pants. He held it expertly before him, allowing himself to keep a firm, but loose grip on the trigger. He would be the only man to have a gun tonight. He hadn't been willing to give guns to untrained hands, knowing all too well how that could end up. He wouldn't watch any of the survivors fall to friendly fire as he had seen so many times in the Republican Guard. Not that he had fully had a choice, for Jack hadn't left the key to the Halliburton. Sayid suspected he could find a way to open the case if he wished, but just now a box full of guns was not what the remaining survivors needed.
Locke panted hard as he all but stumbled into the clearing. He had been farther from the caves than any of the guards, party because he knew the terrain the best and because it was the post he had given himself. He had heard Charlie's scream straight off, and knew that he would be the closest of anyone on duty. He had run immediately from his post, following the sound of Charlie's voice.
He knew he was close now, having recognized the clearing he had just stumbled upon. Charlie had been posted very close by, he knew, but he couldn't see the other man anywhere.
"Charlie!" he called out, placing a hand at either side of his mouth to further his range. There was no response. Locke felt himself growing suddenly worried. He knew this was where Charlie was supposed to be and he couldn't see why he wouldn't be here now, particularly if he had just been shouting for help.
Come on, Charlie, Locke thought to himself, barely whispering the words under his breath. He silently asked the island for the other man's safety, unwilling to watch it demand another sacrifice like Boone. A part of Locke's faith had been direly shook at his young friend's death, but perhaps it had left him more rooted in his belief in destiny than ever. Somehow, he believed that it would be what Boone would have wanted. It had been what Boone died believing in, hadn't it?
Locke cupped his hands around his mouth, preparing to call out once more, "Cha-" he was cut off as a hand was roughly thrown over his mouth, blocking out the sound as Locke let out a strangled gasp of surprise.
He immediately fought against the hold on him, but was met by a strong force slamming into his shoulder and a sharp kick in the side. The hand on his mouth was not removed as Locke felt a cold metal being pressed harshly against his neck, the pressure enough to leave a nasty bruise. It was then as Locke was being pulled into a furious headlock that he realized he was being held at gunpoint.
Panting, fighting with all he had just to draw in breath and calm himself, Locke clamped his eyes shut for a moment, just taking it all in. He could hear the blood rushing in his hears, feel his heart pounding without relent within his chest. And then came a voice. A chilling?unmistakable voice.
"Are you him?" there was a desperation to the thickly accented voice as it came out in a broken whisper. When Locke wasn't quick to respond, he felt the cold barrel of the gun being pressed further into his neck. He could feel the other man's warm breath against his face, tickling his ear as the man pressed his face close to Locke's, restraining him from behind, "Are you him!"
Locke felt a fear like he had never felt or anticipated flowing over him, rushing through his veins like a violent river rapid. He didn't know what to say, couldn't imagine what a safe response to the question would be. It all depended on who him was and how he was connected to the gunman.
"H-him?" Locke questioned feebly, if only to buy himself time. He closed his eyes, clamping them tightly shut as he waited for the gunshot and the darkness to overtake him. Somehow, he found himself sure he was going to be shot.
"You're either him or you're not," the gunman snapped, almost mocking Locke's lacking response. The gun was pressed further against Locke's neck and he could feel the man's long locks of hair falling against his face just as the gun did, "So which is it, brother?"
And here it was. The moment of truth. Locke hesitated for only a moment, digging through his mind for what the right answer was. And though he couldn't imagine why, a vision of the hatch came to mind, the large metal door as clear as day to him. He wondered then what the island wanted him to say and though a part of him thought that was a silly notion, he couldn't help that it was the first thing that came to mind. And then came his answer, after only a few seconds had passed.
"Yes…Yes, I am." Locke's voice shook as he spoke, but he tried his best to feign a calmness. A sincerity. He only wished that he knew what was happening and who this man was.
Several moments passed in silence, and though in his mind Locke knew that this was far from over, he let out a small sigh of relief. If anything, it felt as though that same sense of relief had washed over the gunman as his entire grip on Locke grew slack in that instant, loosening up on him though he refused at first to remove the gun.
In an instant Locke felt himself being shoved forward, the gunman jerking away from him in rushed steps. Locke stumbled away, losing his balance before finally gaining it again and turning to face the gunman he had not yet seen. He saw him then for the first time, standing no more than five feet away, the gun in his hands still fixed on Locke. Locke mentally acknowledged that the gun was an AK-47.
"I can't believe it…" the gunman spoke in a cracked whisper after a moment. Locke took in his appearance then, noting that he was dressed in some sort of military jumpsuit, not far from what he had seen donned by U.S. Air Force pilots. The man was only slightly shorter than Locke himself was, and he had a head of untamable brown curls that fell down to his shoulders in a mess of hair. His face was covered in a rough stubble, his eyes wild from what Locke would've guessed to be stress and exhaustion, "You're finally here…" Though the man seemed unsure, his eyes teared over as he spoke.
"Well, here I am…" Locke laughed nervously, his hands now stuffed awkwardly in his pockets. He wondered fearfully how long this charade could go on before he would be found out.
It was then, as everything seemed to calm down several degrees, that Locke's mind drifted back to Charlie. He still hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man, and found it more than a little suspicious. Feeling that for Charlie's sake he would have to press his luck, Locke spoke up again.
"Where's Charlie?" his voice was as firm as it had ever been this night, but inwardly he was shaking.
"Who, brother?" the gunman asked, a stern look suddenly flashing in his eyes as his hands tightened on the gun, his finger securely gripping the trigger. Locke swallowed hard.
"Charlie. He's a young man, no more than thirty…" Locke voiced, a sudden dread coming over him. He realized then that he had stepped over his boundaries.
"What did one snowman say to the other?" the sternness flashed again in the gunman's eyes, accompanied by a strong distrust. Locke knew the charade was over.
"What?" Locke again tried to stall for time, but in his mind he knew it was useless. That trick wouldn't work again and he wouldn't be getting lucky with this question. The answer was beyond him and he knew it.
"Just answer the question, brother…" the man allowed Locke no mercy as his eyes bore down on him, judging his response with every passing second that Locke stalled.
"I don't know what you're talking about…" Locke finally admitted after a moment, the fear suddenly overtaking him again. He wanted to shout for help, to alert the other guards that he suspected ought to have been here by now. Had they even heard Charlie's calls?
"Then you're not him," the man said sternly, a looking of mistrustful disgust etched grimly into his features. He raised the gun then, better aiming it at Locke as he motioned to him with it, "On the ground!" he singled to Locke with the gun, eyes alight with fury, "Do it!"
Locke silently obeyed, raising his hands cautiously in the air to signify that he meant no harm, then moving down to stand on his knees, legs brushing against the damp jungle floor. Swallowing hard, he raised his head to look back at the gunman, inwardly shivering at the fury that shone in the other man's eyes.
"I'm not here to cause you any harm…" Locke tried, voice almost pleading as he spoke. The fact that the whole scene had come to be set up execution style had not escaped him. Again he wondered what had become of Charlie and why Sayid and the others hadn't come.
"Then why are you here, brother?" the man shook his head, chuckling at the irony of it all as he spoke. It was almost as though he were mocking Locke.
"I was in a plane crash…" Locke thought it best to go back to the start of it all, all the while knowing that the man was probably referring to why Locke was in this clearing at this exact moment.
"Were you now?" he had an almost sing song tone of voice, again almost mocking him as he shook his head in disbelief before snapping his attention to Locke, "And when was this?"
"Well over a month ago…" Locke explained quickly, knowing that the man's question had less to do with curiosity and more to do with mockery. He had to make him see, "September 22..."
"Right…" the disbelief was still ever present in the man's voice, " And what's this about a Charlie?"
"He was supposed to be here…" Locke explained, somehow suspecting that the man already knew that. That he was just toying with him.
"Was he now?" the man asked, this time with what appeared to be a genuine interest shining in his eyes, "This Charlie, did he happen to be a Brit?"
A sudden dread fell over Locke and he couldn't force out a verbal response. All he could do was nod, as though lost in a haze. He hardly registered it when the man's voice again pierced the air, this time sounded somewhat tinged with a cold regret.
"He's over there, brother," the man nodded to his right, motioning to a tree towards the far end of the clearing with his gun. Hesitating only briefly, Locke forced himself to turn and look, an overwhelming sense of dread overtaking him. His heart sank when his eyes fell on the unconscious form of a man laying just beneath the tree, completely still and unmoving.
It was hours later, exactly how long Jack couldn't be sure, that the metal door to the cell again swung open. His head snapped up immediately, body tensing as he readied himself for any form of action necessary. His heart pounded wildly within his chest and he suddenly found himself short of breath.
He watched on, eyes wide as Kate was shoved through the door, and roughly thrown down onto the floor. Jack hadn't seen more than their arms and hands from where he had been sitting before they immediately retreated again, disappearing as the door was once again slammed shut behind them.
Kate stifled a gasp as her already aching body collided harshly with the cold cement floor, face scraping against its roughness. Tenderly lifting her head, Kate's eyes immediately snapped to Jack. He sat with his back pressed against the far wall, his knees brought securely up to his chest as his kept his face buried in his hands.
She knew he had seen her, knew that he had to see that she was here. Something tore within Kate as she registered the fact that he was trying to push her from his mind, seemingly unwilling to acknowledge her presence. There was a brokenness about him, something that she had never seen there before. Defeat.
"Jack?" she called, her voice shaking with tears and coming out in little more than a whimper. She watched as he continued to sit there, as the stewing in his own despair. It was as though he hadn't heard her as he sat just as he had before, unmoving as he rubbed his face dejectedly, lightly massaging the sore spots.
"Jack, please…" she was begging him now, not moving from where they had thrown her onto the floor. She shifted her position as she spoke, moving to sit up on her arms. Still he made no sign of having heard her, but she had no doubt that he had. Her heart was racing madly within her chest, her entire being frustrated with him for ignoring her,
"Please, Jack!" Kate pleaded with him, tears streaming steadily down her face. She inched across the floor to move closer to him, her entire form trembling from the tension of it all. He still hadn't looked to her or acknowledged her in any way. He just continued to sit where he was, nervously running his hands through his hair, "Please, just look at me!"
Finally, as if the ice around him had suddenly broken, he slowly lifted his head to look at her, letting his hands drop to his sides. She didn't miss the fact that his hands were balled into his fists or that there was a distinct look of bitter resentment etched into his features, fury flashing dangerously in his eyes.
But the look lasted only a fraction of a second as the walls around him began to crumble just at the sight of her. A softness fell into his brown orbs, washing over his features as he continued to drink her in. It was as if he was somehow scrutinizing her, looking to see what kind of condition she was in. With the softness came a kind of hurt, a broken sadness that Kate could hardly describe. If anything, it mirrored the look she knew would be in her own eyes as she sat there staring at him in longing, tears rolling down her cheeks.
She could see the toll the fight had taken on him, knowing that he hadn't been like this when they had captured him. There was a trail of blood trickling from his bottom lip to his chin. Much of his face had succumbed to bruising, not unlike she was sure her own face must appear. His right eye was starting to blacken heavily and she was certain it would be swollen shut by morning without anything to bring the swelling down. He looked so broken and lost, but she couldn't mistake the purpose in his eyes.
"Kate…" his voice broke the air, coming out in a cracked whisper and suddenly Kate's mind snapped back to her own feelings.
She remembered her need for him and how she had cried for him when they had taken her, shouting his name as they had dragged her mercilessly down the hall and away from the cell. Hearing her name on his lips brought it all back to her, and she felt that now familiar sense of hopelessness that had once been so uncharacteristic wash over her.
Kate broke into a fit of sobs then, the tears continuing to steadily fall like rain. Clamping her eyes shut in her misery, reduced to only crying, Kate felt herself fall back to the floor, breaking away from his steady gaze. In the back of her mind, she could hear him shuffling across the floor and wasn't surprised when she felt his arms snake around her shoulders, drawing her to him.
She sobbed harder as he pressed her up against him, his hands drawing comforting circles along her back. Kate surrendered to her crying, for once just letting it all out, reveling in the fact that he was holding her now, no longer ignoring her like she didn't matter. She felt his hands travel over her back, his thumbs tracing tiny patterns over the skin of her arms as though he was assuring himself that she was sitting there before him.
Burying her head against his shoulder, the stubble on his face brushing against her cheek, her sobs began to quiet. Kate hadn't realized it at first, but for some time now he had been whispering quietly in her ear, saying something, anything just to calm her. She felt his hands move to her hair, running his fingers through her long brown curls. There was a kind of desperation about his actions, something very different than anything she had ever seen in him.
Kate felt the sudden desire to look at him. She wanted to see his eyes, touch his face, just to feel him. Just to see him. Pulling back, Kate didn't separate them, but kept herself pressed up close against his chest, still able to meet his eyes. He looked so tired as she gazed at him, an exhaustion sweeping over him. The gaze only lasted a moment before his voice split the air, breaking the silence.
"Are you okay?" he asked, eyes alight with an emotion she couldn't quite place. All she could do was nod, though a part of her screamed that she was only lying. Sniffling, she blinked rapidly, trying to break his gaze, but finding herself unsuccessful, "Did they hurt you?" this last question came in a low tone, almost as though he was hesitating to ask, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer.
The intensity in his eyes was just too much. Kate looked away then, no longer able to stand the strength of his gaze and the sincerity in his eyes. He was damaged, hurt by all of this. All that had happened to her. He didn't even know the half of it, and yet he was in shambles and she knew it. She could see it in his eyes, in everything about him. And all because they had hurt her.
"Kate…" he spoke up again, drawing her out of her bitter reverie when she didn't respond. She wanted to tell him she was fine, that they hadn't done anything to her this time. She wanted to say something, anything just to take the tension out of the air. Even if all she could do was nod, that would be okay. But she couldn't even do that. She couldn't bring herself to lie so drastically to him, no matter how much of her nature begged her to.
He opened his mouth to speak again, unwilling to drop the topic. Just by looking at him, just a half glance in his eyes, she knew that he thought he needed to know. He thought that he somehow owed it to her, to them both, for her to tell him. Maybe he even thought he deserved it. And she had no doubt that he did, but Kate couldn't do that. Not here, not now. She wasn't ready and she couldn't even tell him that.
And just as her name began to surface again, she silenced him by bringing her face wordlessly down to meet his, kissing him with a desperation she hadn't known she possessed. A part of her had feared he'd pulled away, that things had changed since that night at the caves, the night she'd been taken. And she knew things had changed, but did he still mean what he had shown her then?
Jack didn't let her wait long. Within only a fraction of an agonizing second, he registered what was happening and he kissed her back, matching her desperation. There was an unsaid passion between them, one that hadn't been there that night in the caves. He could feel her trembling within his arms, gasping into his mouth as the kiss went on. She kissed him as though she had a burden she wanted desperately to shed. Like she wanted to erase it all. And she did. With his kiss she blocked out the terror of DeGroot, of the Others. They ceased to exist, if only for a moment.
She could taste the copper hint of blood on his lips, felt him flinch at the contact there, wincing as she brought her hands up and into his short cropped hair. Running her fingers along the back of his head, she pressed him closer to her. He pulled away then, if only for a fragment of a second, coming back to her and placing a series of tiny kisses on her lips. She closed her eyes, absorbing it all in a way that she hadn't with anyone else.
He groaned, shuddering as her hands went from gripping tightly at his shirt to cupping his face, running her fingers tendering over the stubble as her thumbs rested on his chin. The kiss was gentler this time, a tenderness that hadn't been there before was now present.
Pulling away finally, Kate didn't move back, but let her forehead rest gently against his. She could feel his warm breath tickling her face, see the light dancing in his eyes. For a split second, she might have been able to tell herself that he looked carefree, no longer disturbed by the day's events. It took only the blink of an eye for Kate to see that that was far from the truth. His eyes were sad, crushed almost, just as they had been before. The defeat was still there.
Without warning a tear began to trickle down her face, rolling down her cheek against her will. As if in a trance, Jack reached up a finger to gently wipe it away, his fingers lightly brushing against the side of her face, stroking her skin. Seeing the look in her eyes and knowing that it was mirrored in his own brown orbs, he clamped his eyes tightly shut. He placed his arms on her shoulders then, tenderly gripping her there.
She moved into the circle of his arms, resting herself fully against his chest as she once again buried her face in the crook of his neck. Her warms breath tickled his skin there, the stubble of his face rubbing against her cheek. They stayed that way for a long time, falling into a listlessness that they had both needed. Whatever was meant to come, they felt a sense of reassurance that things would work out in the end. But neither could know just how long that journey was going to be.
A/N: Well, what did you guys think? As always, I love to hear your feedback! Again, any questions or confusions (as I know I tend to be confusing…lol), just let me know. Thanks for reading and keep a look out for the next chapter! It should be up later this week!