Thanks for the reviews. Just to clear something up: the mysterious them everyone keeps talking is not the Others. They're the people I think might be coming to "rescue" them. I have this whole complex theory... ;)

Chapter 3. A Double Life

It was still dark when Kate woke, the display on Jack's alarm clock reading 4:42 a.m.; ever the army man, most days, her father got up around six.

Jack was still asleep beside her, his features relaxed into an expression of peace; trying not to disturb him, she kissed his smooth, unfurrowed brow and shifted his arms from around her waist, sliding out of bed.

She was scouring the room for her shirt, considering borrowing one of his if she could find one that was clean, when she heard his soft, sleep-slurred voice say, more in defeat than as a question, "You're leaving."

"I have to," she agreed, pulling on her jeans, and closing the zipper, not looking at him when he sat up, watching her.

She could tell that he was hurt that she wasn't going to stay until morning, so rather than let him think that she was somehow ashamed, she explained, "My dad hasn't exactly been easy to live with since the rescue. I can't leave the house without him giving me the third degree."

Apparently relieved that he hadn't screwed things up between them by encouraging her to spend the night, he relaxed, settling back against the headboard. "So move out."

It was the kind of mundane conversation Kate had taken for grated before the strain of keeping their relationship quiet, of never being able to move forward with it, became too much; she couldn't help smiling at how familiar it all was as she answered, "I can't. With school, I was barely scraping by before…" before J.J., she thought, sobering as she trailed off. He was the reason for her complete dependence on her father: she couldn't get a job to put herself through college without having to fork out most of her wage to keep him in day care, and she couldn't ask Jack to pay maintenance for a child he wasn't even allowed to see.

"So move in here with me," he suggested with a humourless smile, his tone rueful, both of them knowing what her answer would be. He gestured to a tower of books, and nautical charts, blocking the path to the door. "This place could do with a woman's touch."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed to replace her shoes, she gave him a look, wishing with all of her heart that she could; that she could make them a family, and give her son a father. His father, not some man she picked up to fill the void. "You know it's not that simple."

"It could be," he insisted, with a faint trace of what sounded like hope. Hope, and denial.

"No, it can't," she told him, forcing herself to stand up, but he caught her wrist before she could walk out of the bedroom, turning her back around to face him.

"Hey. Can I see you again?" he asked, his hands moving to her hips, holding her in front of him, refusing to let her go until she gave him some sign that what had happened between them wasn't without meaning.

She wanted to say no, but the look he gave her reminded her of a drowning man searching for a life raft, and she was afraid that if she did, it really would be the end. All it would take was a couple of more pills than usual, and it could be his obituary she was reading.

"Okay," she agreed, realising that if they were going to keep doing this, they had to be smarter about it this time. "But not here."

His breath hitched, and she thought she saw some of the light return to his eyes. "Where?"

It only took her a moment to come up with the answer. "There's a motel across the street from the airport. Get a room, and I'll meet you there tonight."
He let out another sardonic laugh as he dropped his hands, releasing her. "You make it sound like we're having an affair, Kate."

Her smile was sad as she brushed his cheek with her lips, and moved towards the door. "As far as the rest of the world is concerned, we are."

The sun was almost on the horizon by the time she parked her car, and slipped back into the house, creeping up the stairs to her room.

J.J. was just stirring as she closed the door, rolling over to watch her through the bars of his crib; changing into her pyjamas to make it look like she'd slept there, she lifted him out, and carried him downstairs for breakfast.

Ten minutes, and half a jar of bananas, later, she heard her father's alarm go off upstairs, and he joined them in the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal before settling into his usual seat.

"Sleep well?" he asked her as he took in her tousled hair and weary expression, and she just smiled, relieved that, as far as she could tell, he remained ignorant as to the true cause of both.

She was so exhausted by her newfound double life that she almost fell asleep in one of her afternoon classes; something she hadn't done since junior high; the thought of seeing Jack again keeping her going, giving her the strength she needed to go home and put up a pretence for her father.

She tried to speed things along by putting J.J. down earlier, and with less fuss, than she would have on a normal night, but Sam got caught up watching a DVD, and it was almost eleven by the time he left her to go to bed.

Praying that Jack hadn't given up on her, and gone to the nearest bar to drown his sorrows instead, she broke the speed limit in her haste to get to him, letting out the breath she was holding when she turned into the car park, and spotted his truck. If she was going to keep meeting him, she was going to have to come up with an adequate cover, so that she didn't have to worry about sneaking around.

He must have been watching out for her, because he opened the door before she'd even had time to knock, looking more lucid than he had the last time she'd seen him.

"You're sober," she said, stunned, when she realised what it was about him that was different, and, as he stepped aside to let her into the room, he gave her a wry smile.

"Only because tonight, I have something worth staying sober for."

Touched by how hard he was trying to be the man she remembered, she reached out to stroke the side of his face with her thumb. "That's sweet."

"That's true," he amended, looping his arms around her, pulling her in, but she turned her head a few seconds before their lips collided, so that his grazed her cheek.

"No."

"No?" he repeated with a frown, confused by her sudden evasiveness. "You wanna slow things down? Because we can do that."

"No," she assured him with a coy grin, so that he knew that it wasn't that she didn't want to kiss him. She did. Very much. She just couldn't, not now that her faculties had returned and she was thinking straight. "I just want you to lose the beard."

When he gave her a wary look, she complained, pleading her case, "It makes you look like a homeless man, Jack. And it itches. I've still got scratch marks on my neck."

She could see that he was trying hard not to look offended at being compared to a homeless man, and she had to purse her lips to keep from laughing.

"As much as I'd love to help you out, I don't have a razor," he pointed out just like she'd anticipated, the furrow in his brow deepening when she produced one, along with a can of shaving cream and a pair of scissors, from the oversized purse she used as a diaper bag. "You're serious?"

"I am," she agreed, dropping her purse on the bed, and pushing him into a chair, straddling his lap. "I'll even do it for you," she told him, keeping her voice low and suggestive as she snapped the lid off the can, and squirted some of the cream into her palm, bringing it up to caress his cheek. "All you have to do is sit still."

He couldn't argue with that, so he put his hands on her waist to support her, watching with a faint smile as she leant in close, cupping the side of his jaw, concentrating on ridding him of the offending hair with each careful stroke.

"There," she said with a grin, wiping him down with a towel when it was all gone, and she could see him again. "I knew there was a good looking man lurking under there somewhere."

She'd only meant it as a kind of gentle teasing, but instead of laughing at her words, he surprised her by ignoring them, tightening his hold so that their faces were almost touching.

"I've missed you," he said, the regret in his voice, and in his eyes, making her heart ache as she was forced to remember how fleeting these moments of happiness were. But still, they were all they had.

It wasn't the first time she'd wished that she'd told him how she felt back on the island, when they could have been together, instead of wasting all that precious time.

"I've missed you too," she confessed, dropping the towel, and wrapping her arms around his neck. "You know, you can kiss me now."

And he did.

I got a certain amount of glee out writing this chapter, and I'm sure most of you will out of reading it. Good riddance, I say! ;)

Next chapter: They continue to meet in secret, but will Sam find out? And Jack reminds Kate of a certain funeral (I have a whole complex theory about that as well. Two, in fact, for the two characters I think are most likely to be in that coffin. One fits better for the purpose of this fic.)... ;)