Thanks for the reviews. They've dropped way off again, though, for the last two chapters: please don't make me beg, or start another fic (or worse, kill Jack to get a reaction)! (And yes, it was Locke's funeral, with Helen the only other attendee. I've always thought the great tragedy of his life is that he spent it searching for the love and acceptance that he had in her, but didn't recognise.) ;)

Chapter 6. Better

Now that Jack had made his feelings explicit, there was nothing for Kate to do except take her father's advice.

She left the picture on the counter for him, some part of her still hoping that he would come around, and let herself out, losing the battle with her tears as she slid back behind the wheel.

She felt like her heart had been shattered in two; broken all over again, as she replayed his words. He wanted her to leave, not just his apartment, or his life, but his town. He never wanted to see her again, her or their son.

She knew from checking the rear vision mirror before getting out that her eyes were still swollen, her face blotchy, so she tried to sneak up to the bathroom without attracting her father's notice, but she met him on the stairs, coming down with J.J. on his hip.

"Katie?" he said, stopping in front of her, his voice soft and full of concern. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she choked out, not wanting to hear him say I told you so, but he caught her arm when she tried to push past him to her room.

"Talk to me. Did something happen at the funeral?"

She shook her head, but he wouldn't let her go, pulling her close and holding her instead. She tried to keep her expression blank, to keep him out, but there was something about the gesture that made her feel like a little girl, and before she knew it she was burying her face in his chest, seeking comfort from him.

"Is it Jack?" he asked when she began to compose herself, taking a deep breath, and pushing him off.

She sank down onto the step, and he sat down beside her, his arthritic knees creaking in protest, shifting J.J. onto his lap.

She reached out for him instinctively, taking him into her own arms, and holding him close, as if that could somehow make up for the fact that his father didn't seem to want him. Either of them.

"I told him about J.J," she confessed. "After the funeral. I was losing him again – I just wanted him to think about what he was doing."

"And I take it, by the tears, that he wasn't exactly thrilled?" her father prompted, without an ounce of judgement in his tone, and she nodded, relieved that he wasn't going to berate her about it.

"He told me to get out of L.A. – that he didn't want to see me again, or him," she agreed, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks. "He was mean, Daddy," she whispered, remembering the way he'd turned his back on her, dismissing her and what she was trying to tell him, "He's never mean – not like that. Not to me," and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Sounds to me like he was just doing what all good fathers do – looking out for his child," he told her, squeezing her side. "He probably thought he was doing you both a favour by stepping aside."

"You really think that's all it was?" she asked him, some of the hope returning to her, as she settled against him, her head on this shoulder, and when she glanced up at him, he was smiling.

"I know it," he agreed, kissing the top of her head. "He wouldn't be taking the risk of meeting you if it wasn't."

The more she thought about it, the more sense it made; in fact, it was the only explanation that did; by the time she followed J.J. to bed, she was almost certain that, just like when he'd told her not to come back for him, he was only trying to protect her and their son.

She fell asleep vowing to go see him the next day, only to be jolted awake half an hour later by the shrill of her cell, and J.J.'s anxious cries.

Her first thought was of Jack; torn between her fear that something had happened to him, and her need to comfort their son, she fumbled to answer it as she lifted J.J. out of his crib.

She was sure that she must be out of range when she couldn't make out anything but a barely coherent voice, but when she glanced at the screen there was nothing wrong with her service.

"Hello?" she repeated, listening hard, trying to shut out her son's wails, her stomach bottoming out when she checked the caller ID.

It was Jack.

"I didn't mean what I said," he told her without stopping for pleasantries, as if he wasn't sure how much time he had. "Of course I wanna see ya, it's just…"

"Where are you?" she asked him, bouncing J.J. on her hip as she stepped out into the hall, making her way to her father's room, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"It's better this way, you'll see," he went on as if she hadn't spoken, and her blood ran cold as a thousand different scenarios ran through her mind, each ending with her attending another funeral.

"What's better, Jack?" she pressed, picking up the pace, pounding on her father's door, and calling out to him. "What did you do?"

"I just want you to know you'll be taken care of… I set up an account…" he told her, becoming harder to understand, and when her father poked his head out, she half shoved J.J. into his arms.

"Take him."

"Katie, what…?" he asked, but she was off and running again, twisting her ankle as she thundered down the stairs.

It should have hurt, but it didn't. She couldn't feel anything. She was sure she never would again. Everything inside her was numb. "Just take him!" she ordered without looking back, scooping up the nearest set of keys, and racing out into the night.

She didn't stop for pedestrians, or any of the red lights between his place and hers, determined to worry about the consequences if and when they arose, once she knew that Jack was safe.

"Jack!" she cried as she stormed into his apartment, scanning the room for him. "Jack!"

She found him passed out on the bed with the phone still in his hand, the empty vodka bottle, and about a dozen pills, on the dresser beside him. The picture was there too, amid the clutter, as if he'd wanted to take one last look at it.

She was almost too afraid to check his pulse, but switching over to autopilot, she forced herself to press her fingers to his throat, her knees buckling with relief when she felt the gentle rhythm of his heart.

"Jack," she repeated, lifting his shoulders so that he was half sitting against her, shaking him, and slapping his cheeks, but he didn't respond.

She knew that she needed to keep him awake until she could get help, so, sliding her arms underneath his, she dragged him into the bathroom, turning on the shower full pelt, and plunging them both under its spray.

She wasn't sure how long she stood, supporting him, letting the cold water wash over them, but after a while, he began to come to, blinking at her as she shut off the taps, and wrapped a bath sheet around them, collapsing onto the tiles with him still in her arms.

He seemed confused to find her there, sitting with him at the bottom of his shower, both of them drenched, and it was only then, as she held him, brushing her lips against the top of his head, that she realised she was still in her pyjamas.

Next chapter: Kate goes to visit Jack in hospital, and brings a surprise... ;)