Yes I have finally updated! It took me long enough, I know and I deeply apologize. Hopefully this chapter will make up for my incredible lateness. I just want to take this opportunity to say a huge Thank You to everyone who has reviewed so far. I would never have gotten this fic to where it is today without your support, especially that of Phosphotyrosine, without whose enthusiasm this chapter would never have gotten finished. I dedicate this one to you!

And yes, for those of you who also watch x-Files, the chapter title is in reference to a particular scene from an episode.

Chapter 8: You Light My Fire

As caves go this wasn't such a bad one. It was spacious, open, warm. Jack watched light filter through cracks in the wall and fall in patches across the dirt-riddled floor. The strangest sense of peace overcame him, despite the nagging sensation that he was needed elsewhere. He pushed it away with no more force than he would a meddlesome fly.

A shuffling of feet from the mouth of the cavern sent him leisurely turning towards the sound.

Kate awoke to the fading warmth of the afternoon sun as it splayed across her cheek. She groaned softly, working to stretch her aching muscles but finding herself met with resistance.

The sight of Kate standing in the entrance, wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts and enveloped in a halo of light, had his heart beating faster. She drew him close, curling her lean form around him in a fit of passion that seemed too familiar to be coincidence.

Jack's warm body was pressed against hers, his arms wrapped almost possessively around her waist. She felt herself flush both in embarrassment and – she had to admit to herself – lust at his close proximity. She shied away from the thought, not yet willing to analyze the implications of her temporary lapse in control with him.

He was still suffering from a fever and his body was radiating heat in a way that did nothing to ease her discomfort.

Jack held Kate closer to his chest as she fought him, squirming uncomfortably against his weight.

"Hey, where ya' going?" he mumbled softly, enticing her to stay.

Kate listened to Jack's incomprehensible words as she struggled to detangle herself from his suffocating grasp. She returned moments later to place a cool washcloth across his forehead before retreating to a chair across the room.

He could hear the gentle lapse of waves along a nearby shoreline, scattering him with a faint dusting of salty spray as he lowered Kate to the ground and placed himself over top of her. The rays of sunlight were scattering across them in such a way that was comfortable at first but quickly became too hot for pleasure.

She watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept fitfully yet soundly. Deciding to allow him a few more hours of sleep – and giving herself more time to think – she gazed out the wide bay windows, watching the sun make its slow descent below the horizon.

Thoughts spun wildly in her head. Despite what Jack had told her in the kitchen, she remained uncertain as to how much faith she could put into him. She wanted nothing more than to give him the benefit of the doubt, but in her mind she knew that would be an irrational thing to do, especially with Aaron's well-being to consider.

He fought to position the two of them in a more shaded location, only to find himself unable to escape the all-encompassing heat. She seemed to be shedding layers of warmth from every pore of her body.

"Where are you going?" her seductive voice cut through any last vestiges of pleasure he'd been experiencing. The sound of it was raw and with it came a wave of heat unlike any he had experienced before.

He slid away from her, desperate to cool himself down, but to no avail. The entire roof of the cave had vanished and there was no protection from the deadly onslaught of the sun. Half-mad with the burning sensation that was spreading to every bone, every bit of flesh, he ran raggedly towards the sounds of the ocean.

She was certain Jack's earlier comments about his job would be proven correct and that worried her. It wasn't about the money; she and Jack both had enough left over from the Oceanic settlements to last them a long time. No, her unease was rooted more deeply than that. She knew Jack well enough to understand that he thrived on responsibility and his inexplicable need to fix things – whether they were broken or not. She and Aaron weren't broken anymore. They were fine on their own and didn't need any more of Jack's misguided – though not intentionally – efforts to repair whatever flaws he saw in them.

Even if she was about to let him do that kind of damage to her and her son, its appeal wouldn't last for long. Jack would be bored after a few weeks and she had no idea what he would do at that point. He wasn't someone who took kindly to being stuck inside all day. When the two of them were together, Kate always had a suspicion that his job at the hospital was what kept him grounded and was why he'd stayed with her and Aaron for as long as he did.

His vision was blurred by the never-ending red and he felt himself sprawl forward, tripping over an unseen assailant. He threw his hands forward to break his fall, only to realize that he wasn't falling on sand at all. He was falling into the depths of the ocean.

He opened his mouth to scream Kate's name but a rush of water filled his lungs and all he could manage was the faintest of garbled whispers.

The spasm that rocked through Jack's body jarred her from such pessimistic thoughts. She eyed him warily, preparing herself for another reenactment of the previous night, but he only muttered to himself – she caught the sound of her name and her lips turned up in a brief smile – before lapsing back into a sleep worthy of the dead.

His limbs were paralyzed in the depths of sea water that swirled around him. He fought with all his will to move, to make any sound at all.

Staring at him intently, debating whether or not to wake him up, Kate was distracted once again by the straggle of hairs that had encompassed the lower half of his face. The Jack she once knew was hiding somewhere behind them and after their experience this morning she was determined to find him.

Gathering a bottle of shaving cream that she hadn't let herself throw away, along with a fresh razor, she began lathering the thick white substance along the contours of his chin.

The feel of something soft against his cheek startled him into motion. Desperate to create distance between himself and the unseen creature, he forced his uncooperative limbs to propel him forward – whether it was toward the surface or deeper into the depths of the ocean he didn't know. Nor did he have the energy to care.

His arms twitched limply but made no further protest as she made smooth strokes with the razor.

Jack continued his panicked strokes, working against the dull haze brought on by his steadily decreasing air supply. Unable to stop himself, he opened his mouth in a fit of distress.

She had managed to clear half of his face before he jerked sharply beneath her hands. The razor slipped, leaving a decent sized gash in the process. Both Kate and Jack cried out as the blade sliced into his flesh.

Instead of the breath of fresh air his body was craving, he was met with nothing but suffocating water as it blocked his airways. His natural gag reflex reacted, working to spew out the unwelcome invader but only drawing more water in.

The world turned violently on its side as she watched the blood creep down his skin. Fighting to keep the nausea at bay – this was far from the worst wound she'd ever seen – she slid her arm beneath Jack's shivering frame. Sweat was dripping down the back of her neck as she managed to half-drag him up the stairs. She willed them both to move faster as he began heaving against her shoulder, moving herself out of the way just as he emptied the contents of his stomach beside her. Sighing in dismay at the mess, she was careful not to let herself or Jack step in the puddles that would surely stain the carpet.

She rummaged frantically through the cupboards after propping his limp body against the shower wall.

"Sorry," she told him before pressing a clean cloth doused in antiseptic against his wound.

Jack squirmed in discomfort, fighting to push away her hands. His head was spinning dizzily and despite not being able to make sense of anything through the haze, he was aware of an uncomfortable sensation on his jaw line. He tried to force it away, much to the protests of his aching limbs. The stroke of a soft hand against his other cheek startled him enough to open his eyes.

At first he wondered why he wasn't staring into the depths of the ocean. Smokey tendrils curled around his mind, distorting the scene, and he blinked profusely against the harsh light, bringing the image into focus. He found himself gazing through heavy lids into a very familiar face.

"Kate?" His question was more of a moan uttered from between parched lips. He tried again, stronger this time. "Kate?" The distressed expression on her face seemed out of place in this setting; her entire presence was wrong somehow. He couldn't remember why.

"What're you – " A fit of dry heaves interrupted the conversation as she helped him lean over the toilet. When his stomach realized that it had nothing left to throw up, he slumped back against the wall, panting heavily. He felt the trickle of something wet down his cheek; reaching up to touch it, his hand came back red.

The image before him flickered like an old television screen, threatening to turn off and send him plunging back into darkness. He wasn't yet ready to lose hold of the tedious grasp he held on reality.

"I - don't - under - stand." The disjointed phrase tore its way out of his raw throat, painful in his desperate attempt to make sense of the situation.

"I was helping you shave when you nearly jumped out of your skin and the razor slipped. I'm sorry, Jack."

The corners of his mouth turned down in a frown that would have been comical in other circumstances, but only succeeded in frightening Kate. The perfectly normal sentence made no sense in this context.

"Where'd you find a razor? We used the last ones a few weeks ago."

Kate wasn't sure whether to take Jack's remark seriously or not. He mumbled to himself deliriously before addressing her again, this time the fervor in his eyes that of authority.

"Get some butterfly clips. There should be a few in the medical bag in my tent. Do you know what they look like?" He watched her, clearly waiting for an answer. She shook her head.

"Then bring the bag to me."

"Okay." She hoped Jack was too far gone to hear the doubt in her voice; the last thing she needed was for him to worry that she wasn't competent enough to look after him.

I can do this. She repeated the mantra to herself over and over again until she almost believed it. But one look at the ugly cut beneath the washcloth still held against Jack's warm jaw quickly made her change her mind. If even looking at it made her stomach turn, there was no way she'd be able to treat it.

"Kate..." Jack was becoming impatient as he stared at the shadows undulating beneath the boughs of the forest trees. The sun that was once painful against his skin had become soothing once more.

"Okay. I'll go get your bag for you, but you have to do something for me." She firmly cupped his head in her hand, staring at him intently until she had his attention.

"I need you to keep holding this against your cut." She wrapped his hands around the damp fabric, helping him to apply pressure. "Can you do that?"

"Sure." It was almost a sigh that escaped from between his lips.

"Good. I'll be right back. Stay still until then."

She left him hunched around the toilet, the long-unused muscles in his arm rippling in their weakened efforts to continue holding the washcloth in place as he fought against the dry heaves that overwhelmed him. She could still hear his coughs in the kitchen as she picked up the phone and dialed a number from the fridge.

It's only for emergencies, Jack had once told her. Even now heart swelled at the severity he had used. She still wasn't used to the feeling of being wanted.

"Hello?" The resonate sound of a man's deep voice echoed through the phone, cutting off her dismal thoughts.

"Marc? Marc Silverman?"

There was a brief hesitation before he answered. "Who is this?"

"It's Kate Austen. I'm not sure if you remember me. Jack introduced us a few years ago at St. Sebastian's Christmas party?"

"Sure, I remember. What do you want?"

She blinked at his underlying hostility; she'd barely known him and he had no reason to be upset with her.

"It's Jack. He really hurt himself shaving and he's kind of out of it right now and I don't know what to do." She had to fight down the growing panic in her chest before she could continue. "He told me to get some butterfly clips but I don't know what those are and I can't do this. Not right now. Not with him."

The phone went silent. Kate strained to hear the slightest noise on the other line and was met with nothing. She waited for the dial tone to tell her he'd hung up.

"Where are you?" Marc asked after a long pause. Kate let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She quickly spewed out her address.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Think you can keep everything under control until then?"

Her teeth ground together at the thinly disguised sarcasm beneath his commanding tone. Before she could even bother to answer the line went dead.

She wondered what exactly Jack had been thinking when he'd given her the number. The thought gave rise to the guilt she could feel settling in the pit of her stomach; guilt over all that she had lost and all that had brought them to this point.

There was one call she had to make before checking up on him again.

"Cassidy?" she asked once her friend had picked up. "Do you think you could look after Aaron tonight?"

"Sure thing, hon. What's going on?" The other woman's genuine concern nearly brought tears to Kate's eyes and she had to breathe deeply through waves of frustration and concern.

"Jack's here." She didn't give Cassidy a chance to interject. "He's not doing so well and he's going to be staying the night. Aaron already saw him this morning and I don't want him to get even more attached right now. The last thing he needs is to see Jack like this."

The way Kate said it made Cassidy realize something very serious was happening. She refrained from commenting on it; this was a crucial moment in whatever last threads of a relationship Jack and Kate had, and Cassidy sensed her friend had to go through it on her own.

"Do you want me to come over there?" she asked politely, knowing Kate well enough to be certain she would decline.

"No. I'll get Veronica to drive Aaron over when they get back. I just need to sort this out." Kate was still fighting to blink back her tears. She wondered if this she was borderline hysterical at this point.

"I've gotta get back to Jack. Thanks Cass."

Jack was still resting against the cool porcelain cover of the toilet seat when she returned, his breathing heavy and the washcloth discarded on the floor. A thin line of red was slowly making its way down his neck. Kate wiped it up tenderly, hating the bright red stains that appeared against the pure white fabric.

"Kate." He whispered her name with the same reverence as one lover would of another. She was struck numb by the way his lips caressed the word, making it into something desirable and precious.

"Do you really think I'm good at this?"

Her nerves, already shot past hell to the point of no return, only unraveled more at the question. Trying to determine whether or not he was lucid, she couldn't help the frightened sound that erupted from her mouth as he grabbed her arm. Holding her steadfast in his vice-like grip, strong despite the overwhelming exhaustion in the rest of his body, he gazed up at her with eyes clouded by the raging need she had come to associate with him.

Only this time, she wasn't sure whether he was longing for a fix or for her.

She didn't even have time to answer his question before he rapidly fired another at her.

"Will you marry me?"

Her throat made another squeaking noise – one of emotional pain, rather than physical – as the walls she had fought to build around herself since that night threatened to crumble down. A war was being waged inside her, an inescapable flood looming on the horizon. Sooner or later the dam would break.

She no longer had a choice.

The cry of agony that tore its way from Jack's previously taut and alert body shocked her enough so that she crawled away without a second thought. He writhed on the floor, his arms and legs contorting as they worked against whatever pain he was going through.

Again her body acted on its own accord, dragging her back across the room in a vain attempt to soothe his obvious discomfort. She winced as he screamed again, the tortured sound sinking straight to her bones. His cut had opened again as well, leaking blood down onto his shirt and leaving drops on the floor.

If she had been able to look at the moment from an objective point of view, she would have thought it to be a gruesome crime scene. The bright red splotches on the floor echoed the tears that – by this point – were streaming freely down her face, uninhibited and unnoticed in her frantic efforts to calm Jack down.

She grabbed hold of his waist and squirmed to position herself around him, her arms tightening around him, pinning him to her. She thanked a higher power for the afternoons she managed to spend at the gym.

In an instant he was still, sensing the domineering force above him. Kate had barely let out a sigh of relief before he was fighting again, ripping her off and sending her flying into the toilet. She heard the impact before she felt it; her head buzzing as her vision unfocused. Blinking to clear her view as she steadied herself against the smooth porcelain, an idea born of desperation came to her mind.

Not giving Jack a chance to push her away again, she clamped her fingers around his arms and hoisted him upwards, her own joints popping in her strain to pull him to his feet. Their feet entwined over each other, almost making them both trip, as she shoved him roughly into the shower, her momentum carrying her along as well.

Her hands grappled for the knob, slippery from Jack's late night shower the previous night. She vaguely noticed his damp boxers lying at the side of the tiled floor before she turned the water on full-force, grasping the nozzle tightly and directing its scalding spray over to Jack.

Kate felt the steam immediately rise off of his skin as it came in contact with the heat and she was thankful that its touch seemed to distract him for the moment. He gradually sunk lower to the floor until he was sitting, his arms curled around himself as though trying to guard his body from the onslaught.

She fastened the shower head back in its clasp and sat down beside him, running her hands along his arms as shivers wracked his frame.

Where the hell is Marc? She wondered, while out-loud she chanted words of encouragement. Whether they were for herself or Jack she wasn't sure, but as her steady voice filled the enclosure she was able to draw from the few reserves of determination that she had left. She only hoped it would be enough to get her and Jack through another tough night. Only this time she took comfort in knowing they wouldn't have to go through it alone.