A/n: For some reason while writing this, I found Jack hard to get my mind wrapped around. Perhaps because the Grey's cast came so easily, it was weird to have to work at getting into Jack's head? (When really, it should've been the other way around, considering I was going this off four or so seasons of Grey's, one of which doesn't include Addison, but six full seasons of Lost.) Anyways, thanks as always, for reading and especially for reviewing. :D

Chapter 10

As Addison dialed Sam's phone number, she was well aware she was being a coward. She knew she should be calling Naomi to talk to her about postponing, but she also knew if she called Naomi, it wouldn't be a quick conversation. Her friend would need details, would need to know why and Addison didn't think she could articulate the why just yet – even to herself, let alone to Naomi.

So she was calling Sam's phone, while he was likely at work, and leaving a voicemail.

"Hey, this is Sam Bennett. Sorry I didn't catch your call, but if you leave a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Addison took a breath, and after the tone, she left her message.

"Hey Sam, it's Addison. I just wanted to let you guys know… that I need to slightly postpone. Sorry to do this, but things have just gotten sort of… crazy here, and uh, I haven't had the chance to… quit. So anyways, I'd say it'll probably be another… three weeks from now. So. Anyways, talk to you soon. Bye!"

She tossed her phone back into her purse and replaced it in her locker. She was supposed to have been leaving for LA this week according to her conversation with Naomi, but was putting it off yet again. She pretended she wasn't doing it because of Jack and her blooming friendship with him. At the same time, she couldn't help but notice that she always found it very easy to come up with a reason to stay longer in Seattle, yet struggled to stick to her original reasons for wanting to leave in the first place.

This gave her momentary pause – should she be moving to LA after all? – but she gave her head a shake. No, it was time for a change. And besides, like the broken record she felt like, she reminded herself that she and Jack were only just friends.

It turned out to be one of those surgeries where everything was going fine until it wasn't. The baby's heart rate started dropping too quickly and Jack swore under his breath when he realised the preemie was hemorrhaging. He tried feverishly to save the baby's life.

It was mere minutes until the beeping monitor changed to one flat tone. Jack stepped back slowly, realizing grimly that he had lost the baby.

"Time of death… 7:48."

He yanked off his gloves and sped out of the OR.

"Jack."

He ignored Addison and slammed the sink switch much harder than necessary.

"Jack." She tried again.

He kept his gaze trained on his hands as he viciously scrubbed them.

"There was nothing more you could have done."

"Of course there was something I could have done," he snapped, his voice low and furious. "I'm a surgeon. That's my damn job – to do something."

"He was weak, Jack, we all knew that. The parents – we all knew there was a chance – "

"A chance. It was routine – there was a bigger chance I'd save him, and I should've." He dried off his hands and continued, "I should have saved him. I should have fixed him."

"You can't fix every single one. Sometimes things happen –"

She was startled when he lashed out and abruptly slammed his fist into the wall beside the paper towel dispenser.

"Dammit!"

"Jack," she said quietly a couple moments later, as he gently flexed his smarting fingers. "I'm sure this isn't the first patient you've lost before."

He swallowed, finally meeting her blue eyes. "He was their miracle. And I just… I just destroyed that. I ended their chance for happiness. I couldn't… I couldn't fix it."

She reached out to touch his shoulder, trying to give him some kind of comfort. They all lost patients from time to time, and of course it was never easy. This was the first time she'd seen Jack lose one, however, and she wasn't sure why he was taking it quite so hard. All surgeons had a deep-seated need to fix things, she knew, and that was why they became surgeons in the first place. Somehow, though, it seemed that need went even deeper with Jack.

He pulled away when her hand made contact with his arm. "I'm going for a run."

"Jack, wait – "

He exited the scrub room without looking back.

It was dusk when he went outside and headed down the block. He'd changed out of his scrubs and into sweatpants and a tee-shirt, then let another senior resident know that he was going for a run.

Jack began jogging and he hadn't gone too many blocks when he found a park. It was sparsely populated with a handful of other people out jogging or walking their dogs. He increased his speed.

"You'll always need something to fix."

The words Sarah, his ex-wife, had said to him the day she left came back at him as he thought about the baby he'd lost on the table earlier. He resented what she'd said to him that day, but it was true. He took the loss of a patient harder than most because it meant he'd failed. He couldn't save them, couldn't fix the problem, and he brought pain to the loved ones of those he lost.

Jack remembered Boone, then, lying on the makeshift table in the caves.

"Let me go, Jack…"

And having to tell Shannon the next morning what had happened while she was spending the night down the beach with Sayid.

"Shannon, I'm so sorry. There was an accident…"

As if he could outrun the memories, Jack pushed harder. He didn't want his mind to go there, didn't want to think about the island and everything that went with it – just couldn't. It didn't matter that several months had passed since he was rescued and brought back to the real world. It still felt as fresh as if it had just happened yesterday and he still felt weighed down by it all, struggling to breathe.

"You don't want to be a hero. You don't want to try and save everyone. Because when you fail… you just don't have what it takes."

He thought of his father's words to him, long ago now, telling him that he couldn't handle failure, that he had an inability to let go. Like Sarah's words about his desperate need to fix everything, he resented what his father had said to him too.

Jack slowed his pace a bit as he neared the edge of the park and turned around to head back the way he had come. As he did, his thoughts turned to the brief therapy sessions he'd been required to attend at the express request of Oceanic for a few weeks following the rescue.

He'd been irritated by the process at first (how could it possibly help anything?) but had reluctantly obliged by the third session. He'd only planned to fulfill the required five sessions anyways, so it didn't hurt to minimally cooperate (he didn't need therapy anyways, he always dealt with things on his own).

The therapist had told him repeatedly that talking would make things better and help him get past it. She told him at the end of the fourth session that he was deliberately holding back and that wasn't helping anything. He'd simply shrugged.

By the end of the fifth session, she recommended that he come back for more. He'd replied that he wasn't required to, and thanks very much for trying to help, but he didn't need help. He'd ignored the skeptical and concerned look on her face as he'd left her office for the last time.

It had taken him this long to finally realize that maybe she wasn't completely off about things after all. He felt like he was bursting, constantly trying to shove things away. Work was an excellent distraction, but once he was home, he was consistently overwhelmed. He wasn't about to start therapy anytime soon, but maybe talking to someone, even just a little, might help alleviate the stress.

All along he'd been thinking that if no one knew his past, things would be easier. That had so far proven to be untrue – if anything, it was in fact harder, because no one understood and he felt trapped and silent, holding everything in. If someone did finally know, maybe he could finally properly move forward.

Jack was sweating heavily by the time he returned to the hospital. He grabbed a towel from a linen closet and went straight to the senior residents' locker room to shower. He decided he would worry about it all tomorrow.

Addison was in the locker room, gathering her things when he emerged from the shower in a fresh set of clothes, towel drying his hair.

"How was your run?" she asked, looking up.

He smiled a little as he answered, "It helped."

"Good." She returned his smile briefly and then said hesitantly, "Jack, you should know that I am cursed with this ridiculous sense of curiosity – well, being nosy, I think is probably more correct. It causes me to… overstep my bounds. That whole curiosity killing the cat thing – it's practically my motto. So you can tell me to take a hike if you don't want to answer."

Addison paused as if asking for permission to continue, and when Jack didn't reply, she carried on.

"Is everything ok? Because it seems like every day you… no offense, but you look worse." She regarded him with concern. "Like you're not sleeping - like something's really wrong. And there was that day in the on-call room, when you were having some sort of nightmare. I don't know what you're going through, but… Jack, what I'm trying to say, is that I am here if you want to talk about it. I want to help you if I can."

She offered him an apprehensive sort of smile when she'd finished.

Jack dropped his gaze to the towel in his hands and thought about the run he'd just had, about the baby he'd lost that day, about Kate and the island and… He didn't think he could tell her everything just yet, but she was offering, and he could really use a friend right now.

He saw her shift uncomfortably as he raised his eyes to look at her.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Jack asked, then added, "But not at Joe's. I'd rather not… I'd rather there wasn't a chance that we could be overheard."

"Sure," Addison nodded.

"I'll grab my coat."

They were seated comfortably in a dimly lit booth at the back of an Irish pub fifteen minutes from the hospital. Once their drinks had come, Jack spent several minutes watching the condensation slide down the side of his glass while Addison waited patiently for him to find the words he wanted. When he finally spoke, he kept his eyes trained on his scotch.

"About eight months ago, I was involved in… a major accident, with a large group of people. It was extremely traumatic and I haven't… I'm really struggling to get past it, even now." He paused and took a quick sip of his drink.

He didn't know how to explain that by major accident he meant plane crash, and by extremely traumatic he meant that he'd been rescued from a deserted island only five or so months ago where a whole mess of crazy things happened. Jack didn't really want her to think he was completely insane when he started in about a number of people conducting psychological and environmental experiments or a smoke monster that snatched and killed people.

"There was a woman who was in the accident too, and I fell in love with her. We were together for a couple months and then she…" He found he couldn't say was arrested for murder, knowing how it sounded. He cleared his throat before saying, "She had to leave. We… stayed in touch at first, but then she… took off. She basically disappeared."

Addison reached for his hand then, giving it a comforting squeeze and he finally looked up from his glass.

"Look, Addison, there's a lot more to it than that, but I… I can't really talk about it. Not yet. I'm… I just can't deal with it."

"I understand," she said at once. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

He clenched his jaw briefly. "Me too."

They soon moved out of deep waters and eased back into lighter conversation. As the night wore on, Jack and Addison chatted idly about this and that, getting to know each other a little better in the process.

At the end of the night when they had paid their tab, Jack handed Addison her coat. She caught his eye.

"You know, whenever you're ready to talk about it some more, I'm here." She said earnestly. "It doesn't matter what time of day or night, alright? I'm here."

As Jack regarded her open features, he felt like a small weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Thank you," he replied. "Thank you for listening."

"Anytime, Jack." She smiled warmly.

A/n: Thanks for continuing to read. :D Reviews are like oxygen!