A little Suliet misunderstanding with devastating results. Two fellow sinners are sent to detention. Exiled. Polar bear poop awaits.
Saints and sinners
James is abandoned with the repugnant duty to fend for the sloshed bozo. He sits his ass down next to her, cradling his forehead in his hands, arms resting on his knees. He is so tired of this. It has been one thing after another since they got back to the island. He wishes them all to hell.
He and Julie had been happy.
Truly, frigging normal, magnificently boring Sunday-dinner-and-felt-slipper-domestic happiness. Until they showed up.
He has some serious thinking to do. What a freakin' can of worms he unwittingly stumbled upon, Had he known, he would have let Miles make himself welcome to Kate's unguarded bosom. He wishes that Miles could have kept his big snarky clap closed. Really doesn't need this right now!
He has no clue as what to do. Goddamn pickle. Thanks to decadent Dumbo and his two-timing adulteress of a conquest! As hypocritical as it might seem to be pissed off at Hugo for the affair, considering James own glorious past of serial seduction, he still is livid at him. A love-struck Hurley on the loose is an immense security risk by any means and has to be dealt with pronto.
He must have this problem licked before Horace hears the first thing of it. And worse yet, before Dr. Chang figures out that the untalented plebeian communal cook is scratching an itch with his lovely wife. They really can't afford to take any chances. He in particular. Not now.
And Kate, like the cherry on top of all of his headaches. He bestows her the evil eye. Quite futile considering the state she is in. He surrenders to resting his eyes on her snoring mouth and he can feel himself softening inside. Her lips half open, agape and jaw slack in total relaxation. Looks like a little kid – well; apart from the overwhelming stink of booze that is. He feels sorry for her. There is nowhere around it. Move on baby - it's time to move on – he wants to tell her. He wishes she would. She deserves some happiness. Some boring good old bland normalcy. Must have had pretty shit-crappy life too.
" What…where is.. what..?"
A birdlike squeaky noise tears up from the sofa. Kate's bloodshot eyes peer out under heavy liquored-up lids. Fresh as a homeless hobo. Oh crap. Her face has a slime-green unhealthy sheen to it. He knows she is going to be sick. He just knows it. He looks around and notices a big fat frying pan on the floor below the sofa. He slumps down, bending forward to pick it up. Just as he raises himself again, Kate's upper body jerks forward violently and her stomach empties in a wild fountain that splatters everywhere - except - into the frying pan.
James feels like a right arse sitting there holding a large cooking utensil pointlessly in front of them both. He wants to hurl himself as the liquid seeps into the front of his uniform. She looks like something a goat spewed up. And her spasmodic movement has caused the flap of her overall to fly open so that she has vomit all over naked her chest.
" Oh, no, no. No no no." she whimpers as she falls backwards again. Miserable as hell, but mercifully, still out of her mind.
For a second, he doesn't know what to do. Damn. She is so fucked-up. He grabs the first thing he finds which happens to be s small crocheted coaster off the table and attempts to dab off the worst with it. Ridiculously small. It hardly makes a dent in all the toss-up. He is only making it worse, smearing it out. Eeek.
He halts as he hears her voice and has enough time to think; oh shit – this isn't what it seems.
" James! Are you there? What is……?"
Juliet, dressed for bed in her white flowing nightgown that he got for her last birthday. Her own arms wrapped tensely around her midriff as she nudges the door open with her elbow. She seems to be digesting the scene in front of her. She swallows heavily but her eyelids don't move a fraction. She doesn't even blink as she watches them with cool, contained dignity.
" What's going on James", she asks with that patient, neutral voice that he has learned to both respect and be completely petrified of.
Juliet's samurai-sword sharp brain. Her crisp watchful intelligence scans the situation, slices up the elements systematically and with frightening precision for further analysis.
And it doesn't add up.
She is one razor sharp woman – he knows her to be his superior in almost all departments. It ain't ever possible to fool her, this he knows.
Though lately she has changed. He has noticed a tiny shift in her demeanor since the others joined them at Dharmaville. There's a hint of insecurity and a lack of confidence that he doesn't recognize. For years he has basked in her glorious self-assurance, her strength and her poised gutsiness. He has grown to love exactly that.
He is no wimp. God knows his not scared of a little fight but he loves that she has never ever lost an argument between them. She always wins. Every friggin' argument in their whole entire relationship. It is impossible to argue with her. The only woman that has ever given him a home, a place, a belonging. The look of her when she is at her most aggravated, rosy cheeks and burning eyes that flicker with pure flint-hard intelligence. This is when he finds her the most beautiful. And he lets her win. Always.
But she is not angry now. She is eerily calm and just stands there. They are both unable to move. He forces himself to throw the crocheted monstrosity of a cloth on the floor and attempts to meet her anxious eyes. His heart breaks a bit as he sees the fear, the doubt, and the panic that clouds them.
" Kate's had a bit too much to drink baby. I need some help here if your don't mind."
It sets her in motion. She takes charge of the situation with irritatingly capable efficiency she's got. He watches her in awe, backtracking towards the door, towards freedom, as she ushers him on out.
" It's ok, I'll take care of her. Go ahead James. You just go home and get cleaned up."
Fucking angel is what she is.
-----------------------------------------------
Juliet watches the other woman's dismal attempts at remaining standing. Long-legged Bambi on thin ice. Her naked feet keep sliding on the slippery bathroom tiles. Juliet feels an unexplainable surge of compassion for the other. She imagines that weren't it for the men between them, they might even have been friends. No - who's she kidding? Not friends perhaps but friendly. She used to like the spark in Kate, the silly girlish bravado and the hardheaded doggedness. But it seems that some of that has been lost during the three years away, in the real worlds. Juliet wonders briefly, if it was Jack who killed it off or simply the void left by him, her James – Kate's Sawyer.
Kate doesn't seem to do that well
She is unnervingly inebriated. Blind drunk Her eyelids struggle to stay open. Juliet has her upper arm in a gentle but strong grip as she helps her rinse off the worst of the mess she has made of herself. She can feel the lean muscles in Kate's arm as she sway's in Juliet's clasp. Kate mumbles incessantly in a drunken nonsensical drivel. Juliet cannot make sense of any of it. Not that she even tries.
" Eyes….he….always follows...he is... Shouldn't…smells nutmeg…his mouth… "
" Ok there, there. Stay put a little while longer Kate. We're almost done."
The water is chilly to help her sober up but as far as Juliet can tell, a fat load of nothing is the difference it makes. Maybe a pot of coffee would do the trick?
" Skin - like honey…But his mouth…you know, …so, so stupid…but..like honey.."
Kate's head is hanging like a broken flower on her lethargic neck. As if it is too heavy a burden to carry. Her monophonic non-stop babble is undistinguishable. Wet, dark stripes of hair falling forwards in her nearly opalescent face. She resembles a mental patient or something that would dive up from a dark lake in a horror movie. Probably would be covered in sea-grass and have opaque milky eyes too. Juliet suddenly wants to get out and crawl back to her bed, back to James. Feeling uncomfortable now with the words that spill from Kate's spaced-out mouth. She turns off the shower and throws a large towel around Kate's slumping shoulders, rubs her dry briskly, like one takes care of a child.
" Night – on the porch….his stubble ….on my ear. His lips… I shouldn't…but he smells – so good….his lips."
Juliet freezes. Her grasp firmly on Kate's shoulders, trying to keep her from keeling over. Is it...? Who is she talking about?
Stubble and skin like honey, lips on her ear.
The nausea overcomes her suddenly. Icy cold octopus gropes around her stomach with all eight tentacles and squeezes it. No, no. She knows the other woman is still not over him. She has seen her. Every night. Juliet watches her touchingly naïve wake, hidden behind the curtains. The sympathy it awakens in her, confounds her. But she recognizes something. She has been that woman. And she can't help commiserating with Kate's wretched desolation. Maybe it is pity or maybe it is her own embarrassing, secret belief in karma. That what she did will come back to haunt her. That and an uncomfortable feeling of having something borrowed, just for loans. Not truly hers.
Is this about him? "His lips"? The drinking herself senseless? Numbing the longing?
A small fragment of suspicion that seems to grow and expand with every second ticking forward. He had said he'd go and have a few beers with Horace. They had something to discuss. He had said she shouldn't wait up. That he wouldn't be too late. But then he never came. The lights and the gapping open door visible from her window drove her over the lawn. Oh James.
" Said he'd come. I waited so long… waited.."
The words send a blistering cold cascade of pain that floods her entire chest instantly. Kate's head lolls like a ragdoll. Eyes half open but not seeing her. She doesn't know what she's saying. Just the alcohol talking.
"He is,… his lips… But he didn't come….Beautiful. Said he would… waited... and waited…
Juliet feels unable to breathe properly. She must get away. Away from her.
She had trusted him. For all her fears and her discomfort at having Kate here living so near, a constant reminder, she had trust in him and in what they had together. Not in a million years, had she seriously though he might want to jeopardize that. Or so she had told herself. Over and over again. She realizes that deep down this is exactly what she has been expecting since the moment she heard of their return to the island. The wait and the apprehension more painful than the actual knowing.
She lets her arms fall suddenly and with that the poor miserable woman, the object of all her fears and nagging unease, collapses in pile on the bathroom floor. Blissfully unaware of the pain she has caused.
-----------------------
Her face smashed down against something smoothly gelid and cold. Strangely comfortable position. Doesn't feel like she will ever have the strength to get up. Kate pries open her eyes and gets a good view of the bathroom floor from her froglike perspective. She knows she has been there for quite a while. She can practically feel the tile grout sticking to her skin. She hugs the floor in an attempt to stop it from swaying.
Ugh.
Sick as a dog. What happened? Sprawled out in the bathroom with a towel barely covering the essentials. Her hair is a humid bird nest. Near her on the light yellowish brown tile is a pile of overalls with the unmistakable smell of vomit. How did she go from taking a small swig of her nightcap to total oblivion? Images and sounds swivel by in her restless brain making her both groggy and nauseous. The only face distinguishable; Juliet's.
When she opens her eyes the next time she remembers. Miles.
Bastard - he never came.
She had waited and waited and waited. And he never showed. The arrogant prick. She has a vague and fleeting sense that something else has happened. Something terrible. She truly is her father's daughter. The thought makes her want to cry.
-------------------------------------------
Late afternoon, the sun is a low orange ablaze against the sea. She sits like a lumpy sack of potatoes, slouched against a rough wooden pole at the dock, awaiting the Pala ferry over to Hydra Island. Her overalls are crumpled but clean and her hair is scraped back in a slipshod ponytail. She dangles her legs haphazardly as if she didn't have a care in the world. Perhaps she doesn't anymore. She can't quite believe it. It all happened very fast.
Banished.
Watching the sun's last rays play catch across the indigo colored waves of the ocean.
She is still suffering the consequences of the previous night. She isn't normally a heavy drinker. A beer or two usually suffices. She doesn't quite know what made her loose her grip so completely. Yes you do.
He never came.
Her head pounds and her belly churns. She hasn't been able to eat all day. Spent the entire afternoon trying to avoid everyone. His arrogant face - in particular. Bastard. Bet he is laughing his ass off now. Typical of him and his childish head games. She isn't surprised though. She has seen his wicked streak and the small core of cold-heartedness within him. And she isn't surprised. She feels curiously subdued and deeply ashamed. But what is worse. She doesn't know why. Last night is mostly a pitch-black hole.
She must have done something really bad though. Of this she is sure. Bad enough for Juliet to want to fire her useless mechanic's ass. Though Goodspeed hadn't exactly said that. He had told her in that gentle, mellow hippy-go-go-lucky tone he's got, that she seemed badly suited for the motor pool and maybe she'd be happier with something more manual. More manual than spanners and screwdrivers?
Haha. One way ticket to polar bear poop shoveling. Yay, way to go Kate! And her mother that had said she'd never amount to anything.
She closes her eyes momentarily. She has to smile at the total insane shamble that is her life but she feels the tears burn behind the eyelids all the same. Not able to explain, even to herself, the sudden melancholy. She is a bit relieved too, to put some distance between herself and the perfect golden couple and their perfect little golden life. To have her obsessive nightly porch vigil cut short. Unable to let go of that one last little atom-sized grain of hope.
Miles. The grumpy, miserable son of a bitch. She won't miss him one single bit. Good riddance to that smug bastard. Just a snag in the big scheme of things.
Maybe just as well. Might take care of this irritating little crush once and for all.
She'd agreed to a date at the off chance that he'd have at least an infinitesimal interest in her. That he'd like her just a fraction beyond just the teasing and harassing her. He had actually seemed bizarrely pleased. What on earth was all that about? The uncharacteristic skipping? Had she imagined it?
Then, the just not showing up at all.
The getting stood up by Miles, mortifying and frankly - quite puzzling. She had sat there on her sofa. She hadn't bothered to change from her work clothes for the exact reason that she had also ended up in a slam-dunk drunk stupor. She had had the nagging suspicion that he'd treat their date as a joke. She didn't want to play the fool. Like she had tried too hard…or rather, made an effort at all. She knew that he'd hone in on her weakness and find a way to hurt her, use it against her. Miles and his bottomless well of painfully accurate sarcastic remarks.
As her wait turned into hours, she took a small slug from her unopened Dharma issue vodka. Damn rotgut. It had taken her down faster than she had been able to realize. She had waited and waited and fallen further and further down into the bottle until she passed out completely.
The tar smelling wooden boards creak as someone comes walking with a heavy rhythmical thump-thump-thump. She looks up shielding her eyes from the sharply horizontal afternoon sun as a giant shadow falls over her.
" You too huh? On the Pala express! Dude, what did you do?!"
Hugo releases his entire bodyweight like a boulder on the pier. She fears the wood will yield and let him fall through but amazingly it stays put amid alarming creaking and whining. She is forced to smile. Because it's him. And he looks so equally fucked-up and dismayed. A comrade in screw-ups and probably a similarly unwilling emigrant off the island.
" I don't quite know Hugo. But it must have been something pretty bad is my guess since they're shipping me off to Gitmo."
He chuckles sadly at this and shrugs his big padded shoulders in resignation.
" I guess so…"
"How about you? Did your special garlic mayo give Radzinsky the runs?" Accompanied by a cheesy winks and a sympathetic nudges in his vast midriff with her elbow. She feels her spirit lift at the thought of going there with him. Not all alone.
" Yep. They decided I was up for a promotion. It was either that or a Michelin star."
" What like, Sous Chef for the polar bears? "
" Yeah, something like that. And I cook a mean fish biscuit. Just you wait!"
" Looking forward to that Hugo".
She giggles at the image and feels a warmth settling at the pit of her stomach. They grow quiet as they watch the approaching ferry. Dusk is taking over. She turns her head to look at him and he meets her glance with a sad little half smile. Beautiful chocolate sauce eyes, humid with repressed emotion.
" They found out." he says. Voice on the brink of disintegrating. " I really care for her you know. And he doesn't. Not like I do."
It comes out hotly. The anger and hurt barely concealed.
" Who, Hugo?" Kate is bewildered.
What's he on about? Her who? She must have missed something completely. How little they know about each other. He leans closer to her, his fuzzy red cheek almost brushing hers. Her hand reflexively covers her breath. Bet she still smells like an old wino soaked sewers.
" Lara." His eyes searches her for a reaction and when he finds her staring back blankly with the intelligence of a mildly evolved goldfish he adds:
" Lara Chang".
He turns scarlet, squirms like a schoolboy and his long eyelashes flutter modestly. She bestows him with an indulgent wide-toothed snicker. Feeling kindred and connected.
" Hugo, you big bad seducer you!" she squeals in a mock admonishing tone. She starts humming the lyrics of " Me and Mrs. Jones". Can't help it. It is just too good to be true.
Hugo is not even mildly amused. His grim face cuts Kate's jamming session prematurely short and the song ebbs out in nothingness.
"Seriously Hugo – how did that happen?" she asks finally.
He pokes a large finger in his own chest repeatedly and looks at her in utter seriousness, not reciprocating her humoring of him. His ego bruised like a peach dropped on a slab of stone. She instantly feels bad for him. Guilty for the teasing. It's obviously a very big deal to him.
" You mean, how could a hot chick like Lara fall for a big lump of butter like me? Huh? That's what you're thinking?! Isn't it?"
" No Hugo, that's not what I meant. Honest, cross my fingers, " she says in an attempt to pacify him.
An attempt to mellow down the flow of hurt that comes with the slightest jab at that thin useless shell that is Hugo's sole protection against the world. And she thinks of her own improbable, unmentionable embarrassing crush. If she can be so idiotically infatuated with the grouchy, prickly creature that is Miles Straume, then why the hell not would Mrs. Chang fall for Hugo's warmth and immense kindness? She'd barter her feelings for the freakish ghost hunter in a second in exchange for absolutely nothing. In fact; she'd pay someone a considerate fortune (if she'd had one) to take this idiotic crush the hell off her.
" Kung-Pao chicken. She was teaching me a new recipe." He sighs. " Great cook, Lara! She sure has a way with chicken."
" I bet. You're a bit of spring chicken yourself." She dares to take another little stab at mockery. He grins at this. Secretly proud to have bagged a hottie like Mrs. Chang.
"Hey, looks like our ride is here." She gives his chipmunk cheek a quick little friendly pat.
" Let's go princess. We have a cruise to get to."
" Yeah lets. Lets get out of here Dustin."
" Oh, oh and who knows we might be able to hook up with some cute polar bears when we get there. "
" Ha, definitely a wiser option than the beasts available here!"
Hugo lumbers up in a standing position and his whole face lights up, He stretches out his hand for her to take. She grasps it as if it where a lifeline. And perhaps it is.