Thanks for the reviews. Now that Jack is back I'm not going to specify the location anymore. You can just assume that it's LA unless stated otherwise. I'm glad that most people seem to be enjoying the direction that I'm taking this fic in, although I'm curious to know what you meant when you said you didn't think there was enough conflict, Sue. How did you think I was planning to write it?

Chapter 6.

"Kate?"

He was the last person she expected to find when she opened her door. She hadn't had any contact with him since their brief encounter at his mother's house – almost two days ago now – when she had stayed just long enough for it to sink in that whatever was causing his amnesia wasn't going to wear off just because his ordeal was over. It wasn't that she didn't want to be around him – more than anything she just wanted things to go back to the way that they were – it was just that she couldn't. It was strange to think that for months, all she'd wanted was for him to come home, safe and alive, and now that he had, she was doing her best to avoid him.

"You seem surprised," she teased him, trying to keep her tone light.

"I am," he admitted, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head in a way that she knew meant that he was feeling awkward; she caught a glimpse of the familiar design on the inside of his forearm before he dropped it again. "I was looking for Claire." His gaze travelled over her shoulder, to the stairs and beyond. "Is she home?"

The question itself was innocuous enough; there was no reason why it should hurt her as much as it did, except that it confirmed what he'd already told her: he hadn't come there for her. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea how much pain his behaviour was causing her and she didn't know how to tell him. "She took Aaron to the paediatrician. They should be back soon if you don't mind waiting," she told him, surprised at how stiff and formal her voice sounded. She hadn't even felt this disconnected from him when he walked out on her or when he gave up any future they might have had together to become Jacob's replacement, because even then, underneath it all, he was still Jack. But now, it was like Jack – her Jack – really had died, leaving a stranger to occupy what was once his body.

A momentary wave of panic swept through her as she wondered if the thing they called Locke had found a way off the island after all, but it was dead. Jack had made sure of that. Besides, the man standing before her didn't make her uneasy: at least not in the same way.

She moved aside to let him pass and he stepped into the house, taking everything in as if this was the first time that he'd seen it. The effect was slightly disconcerting, forcing her to look away.

She scanned the street outside instead as she pushed the door closed behind him, but there was no sign of the old Ford Bronco that had been sitting, unused, in his parking space beneath his apartment building for almost three months. She hadn't been able to bear the thought of driving it herself so she'd offered to give it to Claire, but after three years on the island, she was nervous enough taking Kate's Volvo out. "Did you drive over? I didn't see your truck."

"That's because I had to get my mom to drop me off. I went down to the DMV but they won't give me a new license until I retake the test. They're concerned that me having amnesia means my mental capacity has been 'diminished'," he confessed with the same willingness to make fun of himself that had endeared him to her when they first met. With a pang, she realised that it reminded her of the last time she saw him, before all of this, when he'd joked about his wound so that she would stop fussing over it.

How could he be so much like the man she'd fallen in love with and yet not remember any of it? "I wouldn't worry about that," she told him, swallowing against the hard lump forming in her throat. "You've taken more blows to the head than I can count and you're still the smartest guy I know." Despite their current estrangement, she couldn't help feeling proud when Margo recounted the story of how, while living in Tunisia, he'd saved a little boy's life using only a household drill. It gave her hope that the old Jack was still in there somewhere.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked him.

"Sure." He followed her into the kitchen, leaning back against the island with his arms folded while she went about putting on a fresh pot.

"You're not having any?" he asked when he noticed that there was only one mug.

She took a glass out of the cabinet and crossed to the fridge, pouring herself water instead. "I can't. I'm pregnant," she explained. She hadn't forgotten what Margo had said, but she couldn't help wondering if maybe, just maybe, hearing her say those words would shock him into remembering.

She waited for a sign of emotion from him – joy, anger, fear, anything – but his expression remained polite. "Congratulations," he told her with a sincere smile that made her heart ache because it was a smile that said he was happy for her. His gaze wandered down to her belly, examining the subtle curve with a clinical air. "You must be about… twelve… weeks?"

"Thirteen," she corrected him, busying herself with making his coffee so that he wouldn't see how close she was to tears. "I'm due at the end of June."

"Do you know what it is yet?" be asked, but when she turned to pass him the mug, she saw that it didn't matter to him one way or the other. He was just making conversation.

"No." And she didn't want to. It wouldn't feel right without him. "I think I'm gonna wait to find out." Then when he was himself again they could start making preparations for the baby together.

He took a tentative sip of his coffee. "This is perfect," he told her, looking stunned. "How did you…?"

"I know you," she reminded him.

Still nursing his mug, he wandered over to the fireplace, setting it down so that he could pick one of the pictures up off the mantel. "I've always loved that one," she told him when she saw which one it was, coming up behind him with the glass still in her hands so that she could admire it too. "You both look so happy." She had moved it there after they got back. It hurt too much to see his smiling face every time she left the house. It was hard enough knowing that he wouldn't be there when she got home.

"Was I a good uncle?" he asked her, the words transporting her back in time, to another, similar conversation.

"Do you really think I'm good at this?"

She felt herself tear up again at the memory of what was undoubtedly the happiest night of her life. "The best. You used to read to him. Alice In Wonderland was your favourite. You told me your dad read it to you when you were a kid."

He smiled at her as he returned it to its place next to one she'd taken just last month, of Aaron with Claire. "I wish I remembered that."

She turned over the frame, removing the back and sliding the picture out. "Why don't you hold onto it?" she told him, offering it to him. "Maybe it'll stir something loose."

He glanced from the picture, back up at her, his expression uncertain. "Claire won't mind?"

She doubted that Claire would even notice it was gone. "Claire will be fine," she assured him, trying not to take offence at the fact that he hadn't asked her.

"Thanks," he said as he took it from her.

This time when their eyes locked, he didn't look away. "You know, there's something really familiar about you," he told her, "I know I've seen you before," and despite her vow to remain realistic, she thought that maybe this was it, until he continued, "Of course. You're Kate Austen. You were one of the Oceanic Six. Didn't you name your son Aaron too?" His eyes drifted back to the mantel, searching for a picture of another little boy, one who didn't exist.

"It's not a coincidence, Jack," she told him softly. She tapped the edge of the picture. "That's him. My son." She choked on the last word, remembering how upset he got the last time he heard her refer to his nephew that way. It felt foreign to her now, from a different time, when she was a different person.

He looked down at it again, as if he might find the answers there. "I don't understand. How can you and Claire both be his mother?" Slowly, recognition dawned on his features, followed by surprise. "Oh."

It took her a moment to realise what he was alluding to and then she felt her own eyes widen in shock. "Wait, you think…?" She laughed, mortified. "Claire and I are not gay." She patted her belly with her left hand for emphasis. "I like men."

"That's great," he told her, looking oddly relieved. "Not that I would have a problem if you were," he rushed on, struggling to save face; she could see that he was as uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken as she was. "I'm sorry, it's just that you and Claire seem pretty close."

"She's like a little sister to me," she told him simply. That at least was true.

"So you're engaged?" he asked, steering the conversation away from Claire. "To a man?"

He must have seen her ring. "It's complicated," she told him, wondering what he would do if she told him that in addition to being the father of her child, he was the one who had given it to her. Margo was right: it was too much for him to handle all at once. Was he still an addict if he didn't remember that that was how he'd once dealt with situations like this? She wasn't sure that she wanted to tempt him.

"It seems like a lot of things around here are," he pointed out, waving the picture at her. "What I can't figure out is if Aaron is your son, then why did my mom tell me he was Claire's when she wasn't even on the plane with us? What am I missing here?"

Typical Jack. Even with amnesia, letting go of the past still wasn't his strong suit. "You just got back," she insisted, unsure where she would even begin. It was hard enough explaining it all to Margo and Carole Littleton, when all she'd had to do was fill in the gaps. "Don't you think you should at least get settled in before you start doing this again?"

This new insight into his personality seemed to pique his interest. "Doing what?"

"Obsessing." Wasn't that why he'd wanted to drop the bomb back in the seventies? So that he could forget all of his failures and start over? "There're some things you're better off not remembering. The time we spent on that island is one of them." Maybe she was looking at it all wrong. Maybe his amnesia was a blessing in disguise. If he never remembered what leaving it had done to him the first time, then he would never have to go back there again. Without the memory of Juliet's death and all the other awful things that had happened there, he could finally be at peace with himself. She just wished she knew where she fit in.

"I did that a lot, huh? Obsess?" he asked with his trademark self-deprecating grin.

"It's what you do best," she agreed. "That and taking care of people."

A comfortable silence – not unlike the ones they'd shared on the island – fell over them as they exchanged smiles, but before either of them could speak, the front door swung open and Claire came in with Aaron. "I guess I must be doing something right because he said, and I quote, 'He couldn't be healthier'," she announced, stopping when she saw that Jack was with her. "I should leave you two alone."

Jack tore his eyes away from Kate's then. "It was actually you I came to see," he told her, before she could usher Aaron up the stairs. "I was hoping we could spend some time together." He showed her the picture, still in his hand. "Maybe we could take Aaron to the park?"

That was all her son needed to hear. "Can we Mommy?" he begged, tugging at the bottom of Claire's shirt. "Please?"

"Okay," she agreed. To Jack, she added, "I'd like that." She shot a guilty glance at Kate. "You should come with us."

While Kate knew that she was just trying to include her, it was obvious that Jack wanted to be alone with his sister so that he could get to know her. Between Claire's disappearance and Jack's "death", they'd never been able to have much of a relationship before. She was glad that they were getting the chance to make up for that now. That – and Claire's reunion with Aaron – was the one good thing to come out of all of this. "It's okay. You guys go ahead."

Aaron was already bounding out the door, dragging Claire along with him by the time Jack handed his empty mug back to her. "Thanks for the coffee, Kate," he said as he prepared to leave with them.

She forced herself to smile back. "Any time."

Next chapter: Jack hangs out with Claire and Aaron. ;)