Title: Monsters
Summary: Set between leaving Penny's boat and coming out to the world as the Oceanic Six, Kate comes to Jack's hotel room at night with an interesting, yet confusing question.
AN: I want to thank my mazing friend, and Jate soulmate, the Jack to my Kate, Erica for ehelping me out with this and for her never ending encouragement and enthusiasm. Love you, bb!
Enjoy!
The cool water streaming down onto his shoulders and back was a welcome relief, untying the knots and helping unclench the muscles, washing away the fatigue and some of the stress, that even after weeks of leaving the island, seemed to continually increase. Oceanic Airlines had put them in a hotel pending the presentation of the survivors to the world. They had spent their days being debriefed and questioned, having to repeat the made up story over and over again. The elaborate tale, the detailed cover-ups and all the legal issues were being thoroughly reviewed and studied to avoid any problems when the world meets the six faces previously presumed dead.
Jack stepped out of the shower, tiredly running a towel through his hair and across his chest. He walked out of the bathroom, stepping onto the fuzzy carpet of the room and tying the knot on his black sweat pants, making his way, finally, to the bed. It was still strange, sleeping on a bed, even weeks since they've rejoined civilization, not falling asleep to the sound of the ocean, with the sand as a mattress and only the star lit sky as a blanket. Adjusting back into civilization had been an odd transition. The things they saw, heard and did on the island had changed them all, and the lie they have fabricated was forcing them to become even more different than who they thought they had become. The pressure was exhausting, and the toll it was having on the dynamics and the relationships between them was heavier than they could have ever imagined. Any ideas of the group going back to the real world and remaining friends were being shattered with every passing day.
Jack dropped the wet towel on the chair next to his bed and pushed the covers back, letting out a tired sigh as he hoped to get as much rest as possible before it all started again the next day. A soft knock on his room door stopped him as he was about to lie down and he groaned in annoyance, wondering who it could be at this hour. He opens the door and is shocked to see Kate standing on the other side. He had not seen her for most of the day. He had heard that she was meeting with lawyers, Oceanic finally bringing her legal situation to the table. He had tried to get together with her before they started but she was called in early and they only passed each other briefly at lunch.
The smile that drew on his lips was involuntary, as it always was whenever he saw her, the special smile that was reserved for her, the one that reached his eyes with a joyous twinkle. That smile was quick to fade away, though, when he saw the state she was in. Her head was dropped, her eyes obviously avoiding his, her hair loose and wild over her slumped shoulders, and tearstains down her cheeks.
"Kate?" He said, his voice hoarse, his hand reaching out tentatively but hesitant to touch her.
She did not answer, her head shaking almost imperceptibly. She looked up briefly, barely allowing him to catch her eyes and asked, "Can I come in?"
He nodded, confused at her actions, yet worried about her, moving out of the way, allowing her to walk in. He thought of asking if it was about Aaron, but seeing her pace the room as he turned back to look at her, her feet digging into the carpet with every step, leaving a deep impression, obviously heavy with whatever was on her mind, made him realize that whatever it was that was bothering her, was more than Aaron not being able to sleep or suffering from a bad stomach. She did not say anything for a few moments, and neither did he. His mind was however working tediously at trying to figure what it could be. It could be something she was briefed about during the day, something with the lawyers, something about her father, but Kate was nothing if she was not a mystery within a mystery and he knew playing a guessing game would never give him the right answer if she did not come out and say it. He stood in front of the bed; hands in his pockets watching her pace the width of the spacious room, all the while avoiding looking at him directly. She bit the inside of her mouth, gathering the strength and fighting away the trepidation to say what she had come to him to say.
And when she finally looked up, her eyes were dark, narrow and focused. Her hair framed her tired face, barely hiding the clench of her jaw before she spoke. She looked him straight in the eye when she did, for the first time since he opened the door, her words came out low, sharp but clear, "Did you mean it?"
Jack looked at her, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he tried to decipher what she was asking him. He finally relented, having racked his brain in that brief moment as to what she could be referring to and shook his head, "Mean what?"
She huffed, understanding his confusion but too riled up to have to explain everything, fearing her emotions would get the best of her stoic manner, "What you said that day… during the trek to the radio tower… When you said that you… Did you mean it?"
Jack's jaw fell open, speechless and in shock, her question being the last thing he'd ever imagined he would have to answer. Of course he meant it. What sort of question was that? Was it not obvious? Everything, everything, he had done on the island, every decision he had made, every action he took, it was all driven by the unconditional love for this women. Could she honestly not see that? He looked at her, tears threatening to spill, sitting dangerously at the edge of her mascara smeared eyes, lips tightened into a thin line, her freckles hidden behind her wild curls. He knew that Kate. He had seen her before. She was the same Kate he found in the jungle after Shannon's funeral, the same Kate who cried in his arms, before capturing his lips in a kiss he could still taste to this day. He smiled briefly at the memory, his thumb coming up to trace his lip ghostly, unconsciously. "Of course I meant it, Kate," he whispered.
Kate swallowed, dropping her gaze for the shortest moment before looking back up at him, eyes narrower and jaw clenched harder, "Why?"
Jack could not control the befuddled shake of his head, or the scrunching up of his forehead, his shoulders slumping forward slightly in an attempt. His lips formed the shape, but no words could come out. This Kate was familiar, but what was happening was baffling him. Was she asking him why he said it? At times, even he was not sure. He knew he hadn't said it in hopes to hear her say it back. That was the last thing on his mind. Even the possibility of her feeling for him anything close to what he felt for her, in his mind, was an impossibility he would not dare hope for. How could she? The love he felt for her, burning through every fiber of his being could not be reciprocated, so he never hoped for it, never dared imagine it. Why had he said it? HE had said it because he needed to, because he needed her to know, because the weight of keeping that secret inside of him was a burden on his soul, eating at him from within, struggling to escape.
Jack felt his chest tighten as it became clearer and clearer what she was asking of him. It had been hard enough the first time around, to open up, to allow himself to be that vulnerable and let his guard down and say those words, as relieving at it had been. But he could not imagine being able to say it again, not when he knows she would not be saying it back. Jack closed his eyes, the uncertainty and the pain painting his face as he struggled wit his choice and whether he would be capable of baring his soul again in that way. He lets out a deep breath and said, "Kate, I said it because…"
But she cut him off, before he could explain what he honestly could not explain, to his relief, for a moment, she cut him off, huffing in frustration and letting out a strangled, "No! I don't want you to explain why you said it," she said. A sob escaped her throat and she looked at him again, taking in the confusion in his eyes, the fatigue all over her face, and she knew what she was doing to him was not helping. "Why do you love me?" she said, not being able to fight the tears anymore, as the first one rolled down her cheek.
Flabbergasted. That was what Jack felt. A punch in the stomach would have been easier at that moment than having to answer that question. Jack dropped his gaze, staring at the ground, his pupils darting left and right rapidly. He bites his lip, feeling everything inside of him that had kept him strong begin to shatter, how was he supposed to explain his love for her, to her, when he hardly understood it himself?
He looked towards her, watching her pace the room and then turn to meet his gaze. She wiped the tears that had escaped, her eyes darkening, the bright green replaced wit ha dark olive. She was hurting, broken and scared, yet stubborn and determined. She was that scared girl in the jungle, broken struggling, believing she was not good enough. But she was also the headstrong, determined Kate who would do anything to open the Marshal's suitcase; stubborn, with a purpose and unrelenting. She looked up at him, weighing in his discomfort and she felt her chest tighten. She had spent the whole day with the lawyers, going over her options. But she was kidding herself. She no longer had options, not this time. With their faces plastered on every media outlet from Los Angeles to Beijing, running was out of the question. It was time for Kate to face the reality of her actions in the real world, and no matter how much the lawyers had been trying to reassure, how much Jack had been trying to reassure her, the loudest voice she could hear in head was bellowing, repeatedly with one truth, "You've got murder in your heart, Katie." And if Kate had ever felt the incessant need to run, it was at that moment, with those three words she heard a few days ago still haunting her.
Jack watched as her face contorted with the emotions that were ravishing her mind and heart, and as much as he wanted to reach out and hold her, he was far too confused and scared of taking one wrong step. His hand came up to his head, palm running methodically against his wet hair. As much as it scared to open up, knowing the wounds that his heart would have to endure, watching Kate like that pained him more. He opened his mouth to speak, to try to give her what she was seeking, once, twice but words failed to form. He took a deep breath and tried again, this time succeeding at making the words leave his lips, but failing to make them meaningful. The stumbled out, incoherent and inconsistent, just floating out and crashing into each other, without meaning, without sense. He finally managed one complete string of words that made sense, "I cannot explain why I feel what I feel, Kate."
Her reaction was the last he could have ever imagined. She laughed. It was not a laugh of amusement. She laughed and it came out laced with anger, dripping with resentment and the look on his face said it all. The words came out of Jack's mouth, but all Kate could hear was her mother's voice, preaching to her condescendingly with her mantra, "You cannot help who you love, Katherine." Jack stared at her bewildered as she walked slowly towards him. She cuts the laughter abruptly, looking up at him with dark, haunted eyes, and he thinks this shift should scare him, but like everything else with this woman, it just pulls at him, magically, it makes him want to be closer to her at that moment. She stands in front of, for the first time closing the safe distance that had held them apart since she came to him. He watches her, the dark haunted look in her eyes, juxtaposed with the streaks of drying tears across her cheeks. Her dark hair falling wildly against her shoulder, landing over the straps of her white top, matched by her white pajama bottoms. She stands right in front of him, toe to toe, and it does not elude him, the contrast between his black sweat pants and her white ones. That was how they always were, black white, light and dark, the two stones, the balance.
"My mother used to say that," she spoke calmly, "she used to say that about the man whom she loved."
She looked up at him, her face mere inches away from his chest, her breath hitting his skin with a heat that burnt through him. "He was a monster, Jack. I never could understand how my mother could love a man like that. How anyone could love someone as horrible as him."
Jack tries to pull back, to recreate the distance, to be able to look at her. But his body would not comply, and the vibrations of her words against his skin match the rapid beating of his heart.
"I always told myself I would never be like her, never let him or anyone like him make my life hell," she said, "I would never accept what my mother accepted." She was breathing him in, his smell, his essence and it was driving Jack insane. It was killing him. Being so close to her always did, but having her right next to him, like that, was taking too much strength to no just grab her and kiss her.
"No one should love a monster, right, Jack?" She asked, looking at him with shady eyes. Jack nodded, or attempted to nod, but the weight of what was happening was too much, as his head merely bobbed, failing to remain composed.
"That's right, no one can love a monster," she said, her voice just above a whisper. And before Jack could react, her lips were on his. They weren't soft or gentle. They were hard, purposeful, as though seeking something out of him, a truth that could only be answered with a kiss. Her hands came up to his chest, and just as he was starting to react to the attack of her lips on his, he was pushed back, landing on the bed with a heavy thud. He opened his eyes to find her above him, staring down at him. He tried to reach up, to grab on to her, but she was still one step ahead, pulling back before climbing onto he bed, pinning her below him. Despite their size difference, her petite frame was suddenly much stronger than his athletic built, managing to keep him fixed below her.
She sat on his legs, kneeling forward, with her hands resting on his heaving chest, still trying to recover from the assault she had launched on him seconds ago, his head still reeling from that soul robbing kiss, and said, "how would you feel if you knew I am his daughter, Jack? If you knew that the blood that ran through his veins, is the same blood that runs through mine? Would it make you sick of me? Would it make you push me away? Would you still think you could feel what you claim to feel is you knew I too am a monster?"
Jack felt as though he'd been sent through a whirlwind, of information, of emotions, suffering through what he could not understand the aim of was. Was it a test? Was he dreaming? Did she want him to hate her? "Kate… you're not… that doesn't mean…" he tried to comprehend, but if his concentration was not shattered enough, she pulled of her shirt, and he knew she was definitely trying to kill him. With her shirt coming off her head, his hands made their way up. He was not sure he was still controlling them, but he felt the groan escape his throat when his fingers finally touched the tight skin of her stomach. If this was a game intended to break him, then he was getting something out of it, he thought to himself. And she closed her eyes for a split second, breaking their eye contact, allowing him to muster the strength to say a few words, because that spell she had him under was slightly weakened, "this doesn't make you a monster, Kate, you're not him."
At that, her eyes shot open, violently, angrily, "No… No, I'm not," she whispered with a menace-coated tone. Jack's hands, which had been slowly creeping upwards, dropped at her words, landing at her waist, his thumbs digging into the warm flesh above the waistband of her pants. She dropped her head, her eyes locking with his, and just before her lips were on his, she whispered, "I'm worse."
Jack's head was spinning, trying to focus on pushing her away, on trying to talk to her, but everything else was urging him to pull her closer, to flip them over and take control. But being ahead on this game was Kate's strongest weapon, and she had pulled away before his internal battle came out with a victor.
"I killed him."
Three, short, simple words, and Jack felt everything he knew, everything he thought he knew come crashing around him. He stared at her, his face reminisce of a deer in headlights. Every profanity he had ever heard or heard of was running through his head, and yet, this beautiful, broken, damaged, sexy woman was lying half naked on top of him, her eyes shut tight, tears streaming down her face, and he knew anything he did or said at that moment could be interpreted in the wrong way. He could not push her away, not when she was most vulnerable, not when she came to him baring her heart and soul, although, be it, in the most unconventional of way. But it would not have been Kate if it had been conventional. She had come t him seeking his support, his reassurance, but he could not deny the bomb she had just dropped was huge. And his moral compass, always pointing north, shook away any thoughts of touching her the way he had been, not allowing himself to take advantage of her in that damaged condition.
She opened her eyes again, finding the strength to ask him one last thing, before she planned to get up and go back to her room, leaving him to sleep on it, on the truth she had kept hidden from anyone and everyone.
"Do you still want to say that you love me, Jack?"
Jack shut his eyes, swallowing the lump that was growing heavier in his throat, but when he felt her pushing off of him, he held on tighter to her waist, keeping her on top of him, not allowing her to do what he knew she was itching to do. He was not going to let her run. Not now, not ever again. He knew she was leaving him to think it over, to mull over it and maybe decide something. And he could do that, let her leave and spend the night pacing his room, thinking about what it all meant, let it stew and turn over in his head over a million times, trying to come up with a thousand interpretations.
But he did not want to do that. He did not want to think it over. He already knew what he would say, he had known from the beginning. Because whatever it was, it would not matter; it would not make a difference. It was baffling to him, the man of logic, the man of science to give up this decision to the farthest thing from logic.
He opened his eyes, loosening the grip on her waist, only slightly, keeping one hand there while the other reached up, wiping away the tears from her cheek, he smiled, genuinely smiled and said, "I don't care."