Thanks for the reviews. Hopefully this chapter will answer some of your questions: about whether or not Jack knows about J.J., and the identity of the man in the coffin (He's not referred to by name, but if you read between the lines, you'll see who I mean! Extra points for guessing the mystery mourner!) ;)

Chapter 5. Regret

Kate's mind was still on Jack and the funeral when she re-entered the house in the early hours of the morning; it wasn't until her foot hit the first step that she realised all the lights were on downstairs, the TV playing low in the background.

"That must've been some engagement party," she heard her father say, and she turned to see him sitting on the couch, J.J. sprawled on his back on a blanket beside him.

"I guess more people showed up than she expected," she told him, trying not to look like a deer caught under the headlights, but she knew he wasn't fooled.

"You can cut the crap, Katherine," he half-growled, his voice low and terse as he did his best to avoid waking her son. "I know you lied to me."

She considered denying it, but, instead, found herself asking, "How?" biting her lip as she stared down at the carpet. He would never trust her again after tonight, not after everything she'd put him through.

"I don't know if you noticed, but your boy was running a fever when you left," he said, and a sick feeling crept over her as she remembered how warm J.J. had felt when she kissed him goodnight. She was his mother; she should have paid more attention, instead of being in such as rush to get back to Jack.

"Is he okay?" she asked, dropping her purse, and moving over to check on him, but her father held out a hand to stop her.

"He's fine, Katherine," he agreed, and she let out the breath she was holding. "I gave him some Tylenol, and it brought it right down. I just got him back to sleep."

He was silent for a moment, letting her digest this, before adding, "But that's not the point. Your cell was switched off, so I called the contact number you gave me. Your friend said she hadn't seen you all night. What if it had been something serious?"

"I don't know," she agreed, tears burning her eyes as she glanced down at her son, his pale cheeks flushed pink, his dark curls matted with sweat. If he was sick, she should have been the one to take care of him. He should have been with his parents – both of them.

"At least tell me you learnt your lesson last time," her father said, and she could hear the defeat in his tone, making him sound like the old man that he was. "I don't think I need to remind you that you can't afford to get pregnant again."

She could have lied and told him that nothing had happened, that all they'd done was talk, but she knew he wasn't that naïve, so she gave him a slight, miserable nod to ease his fears, and he sighed.

"This has to stop, Katie," he said with a sad smile, his tone softening as he reached for her hand. "You have to stop living in the past."

She wanted to agree, but as the first tear slid down her cheek, all she managed was to whisper, "I can't."

She spent the morning watching over J.J., making sure that his fever didn't return, but she couldn't back out on her promise to Jack, so when noon rolled around, she told her father the truth, and drove over to the cemetery as planned.

Jack arrived a few minutes after she did, his expression pensive as he stood at the opposite end of the grave.

They were the only ones there; the celebrant waited for half an hour before beginning, but the only other person who showed up was a woman Kate had never seen before, once attractive, through the lines on her face made her look like she'd lived longer than her forty plus years. She cried all the way through the service, and Kate couldn't help wondering who she was, and if she'd loved him. She might have been the only one who had.

It made her wish that they'd been a little nicer to him, that they'd allowed him to feel like he was part of the group. Maybe then he wouldn't have betrayed them by joining the other side.

"I should have listened to him," Jack whispered as he leant past her to sprinkle soil on the coffin, his voice full of deep sorrow and regret. "He was right – I should never've made that call."

When she called her father to check in a while later, he assured her that J.J. had bounced back from whatever bug he had, so she decided to go to her afternoon class after all. She needed something to take her mind off how defeated Jack had looked at the funeral, beating himself up over a decision the whole camp had made, but she was still several blocks from campus when the message tone chimed on her cell.

Thinking that her father had forgotten something, she flipped it open at the next red light, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up when she saw three short words underneath Jack's name:

I NEED YOU.

She wasn't sure why, but they filled her with dread; throwing caution to the wind, she made what she was pretty sure was an illegal U-turn, heading over to his apartment instead.

She found him on the floor, slumped against the wall with a bottle of vodka and the same glazed look he'd had that night at the airport; taking it out of his hand, she set it aside, sitting down beside him.

"I'm sorry," he said, and she thought that he was talking about the fact that he'd broken his vow, until he added, "I ruined your life. I ruined all our lives."

"In case you haven't noticed, you are my life," she told him with a smile, picking his limp hand up and squeezing it, and he gave her a disgruntled look.

She had no idea whether it was the right moment, or she could have found a better one, but she wanted him to see that good things had come from knowing him, from him, so she reached for her purse.

"Jack, there's something you should know," she began, and he cast his eyes in her direction without moving his head.

She couldn't tell whether he was actually listening, or just acknowledging that she'd spoken, but she was determined to finish what she'd started, so, before she could back out, she took the picture of J.J. out of her wallet and put it into his hand.

It was one she'd taken herself, of him asleep in his car seat, looking so adorable that she couldn't let the moment pass without capturing it for him. The thought of Jack missing out on their son's life had saddened her; there were dozens of albums of similar shots on the bookcase at home, chronicling every stage of his development, from before he was even born.

"His name is J.J.," she told him, bracing herself for his reaction. She was putting her heart on the line by letting him in on that part of her life; she didn't know what she would do if he rejected them. "I named him after his father."

His expression didn't change as he stared at the picture, lowering it to his lap. "This is your… your son?" he asked, his voice dull except for the last word, and she nodded.

"This is why you didn't wanna see me anymore," he realised, but before she could explain, he rushed on, "His father – is he still in the picture?"

"We're not cheating on him, if that's what you mean," she agreed with an ironic grin, trying to calm her nerves by turning it into a joke, but he didn't seem to get the humour.

"Does he know?"

"Who?" she asked, confused. "My dad? I think he noticed."

"Sawyer," he said, and through his bland tone, she could hear fresh resentment. "That's what it stands for, right? James? You left me to go back to him."

"No," she corrected him, and he looked over at her surprised. "J.J… Jack… junior. I named him after you, Jack. If you could see his eyes, you'd see they're yours."

He glanced down at the picture as if seeing it for the first time. "We have a son?" he asked, sounding dazed, and she smiled.

"We have a son."

"He's… We have a son," he repeated, shaking his head, as if he still couldn't believe it, his face breaking into a grin, but seconds later, it was gone. "Then what're you doing here, Kate?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, thrown by the about turn he'd made. She'd thought he was happy, or at least, open to it. "You called me."

"I mean you should take him and get the hell out of L.A.," he retorted, thrusting the picture back into her hands, and pushing himself to his feet.

"Don't you wanna see him?" she insisted as she scrambled to follow him, hurt and bewildered by the sudden coldness in his tone. "Jack, I only kept this from you because I didn't want you to feel like you were missing out."

She reached for his arm, but he brushed her off, grabbing the bottle of vodka from the table. "I want you to get out. I never wanna see you – either of you – again," he said as he staggered into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Next chapter: Some surprising words of wisdom from Sam, and Jack decides to do his family a favour... ;)