Apologies for not having this up sooner. You can blame all the usual suspects - work, illness, RL, etc. Thanks again for all of your kind comments, and for making this my most reviewed Lost fic ever (a record previously held by Brother's Keeper).

Chapter 18

The visit took on a more jovial atmosphere at dinner as they ate fried chicken from one of Hurley's favourite fast food places and reminisced about old times. While the others held up most of the conversation, Jack enjoyed listening to their stories about golfing and beach picnics and the unexpected treasures of the hatch. It was proof of what he already believed: that the life he'd shared with Kate and their friends on the island hadn't all been doom and gloom.

Once the dishes were cleared away, and the others had retired to the living room to watch a movie – Hurley had decided that it was past time Aaron was initiated into the Star Wars fraternity – Jack slipped out onto the deck alone to get some air. Between the excitement of Hurley's visit and catching up with Claire and Aaron, he still hadn't had a chance to process their earlier conversation.

Ever since Christmas, he'd been trying to shut out the memory of standing on that bluff with Kate, feeling his life ebb away, afraid of what it might mean. Now that he knew for sure, he couldn't decide whether he should be relieved or horrified to discover that he wasn't the same man who crashed on the island all those years ago, because that man was dead.

His mind flashed on an image of himself sitting by Aaron's bed, reading aloud to him from The Annotated Alice while Kate watched from the doorway.

"But if I'm not the same, the next question is, 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle."

If he was dead, even for a few minutes, then what was he now? Was he even human, or little more than a zombie? A walking, talking corpse?

The sound of the French doors opening behind him pulled him out of his funk; a moment later, he felt a pair of slender arms circle his waist.

Glancing down at the small hands that settled over his stomach, he caught the glint of a diamond, and he wondered if he should ask her to take it off, if only so that he could give it back to her one day.

"You should go back inside," he insisted, in two minds about whether he really wanted her to leave. He needed to be alone to think, but he was afraid that if he thought about it too much, he would lose his mind. "It's too cool for you out here."

Kate hugged him tighter in response, resting her cheek against the ridge of his spine, and he smiled at the way her belly pushed into his back.

"You okay? You barely ate anything."

All through dinner, he'd tried to act normal, but he should have known that she wouldn't be fooled. He forgot sometimes just how well she knew him; better than he knew himself at times.

"I'm guessing this is about the time the old me would've been raiding the medicine cabinet."

He'd meant it as a feeble attempt at humour, but he should have known that it would strike a nerve with her.

She withdrew her arms, moving around to where she could study his expression. "You're not actually considering it, are you?"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to you again."

He couldn't do that to Hurley either, not after everything he put them both through to restore him to life. He was here now, whether he wanted to be or not. He wasn't about to throw that away.

She placed a comforting hand on his back, massaging between his shoulder blades, her eyes sad and full of sympathy for him.

"I can't even imagine how you must be feeling right now, but I'm here for you if you ever wanna talk about it."

He lost her once because he kept everything locked up inside; he decided to let her in on some of his thoughts, if only so that she would understand that his sombre mood had nothing to do with her or what had happened between them the night before.

"I just keep thinking that if I was dead, and Hurley brought me back, how do we know I'm still me? That I didn't come back wrong, like Locke or Sayid? You said the Others thought he was infected with some kind of madness."

He questioned whether he'd done the right thing in telling her when her expression hardened, becoming almost angry.

"That thing wasn't Locke, Jack. It had his face, but it wasn't him. And whatever happened to Sayid happened before we took him to the Temple. He was never the same after Nadia died."

None of that answered his question. It still didn't explain who he was. What he was.

"That doesn't mean I'm not dangerous," he insisted. "I know it's not what you wanna hear, but maybe it would be safer for everyone if I went back with Hurley. At least until we have a better idea of what we're dealing with."

The last thing he wanted was to cause harm to her or their child and he was afraid that if he stayed, he would. He tried to be as gentle as he could in explaining this, but of course he'd already let things go too far to avoid hurting her.

"No," she almost shouted. "You really think I'm gonna let you go back there again, after…" Her voice broke and she abandoned the rest of the sentence. "You did what you were supposed to do – you protected the island – but now your job is here, with us."

She caught his hand in both of hers, pressing it to her belly and holding it there, forcing him to consider the fact that it wouldn't just be her he was leaving this time.

"You may not believe it, Jack, but the thing that makes you you – your soul, your spirit, whatever you wanna call it – is still there. I know because I've felt it. I felt it last night. You're not evil and you're not infected."

As always, he was astounded by her willingness to trust in him and his inherent goodness, even after all the ways he'd let her down.

"You're telling me you're not afraid of me? Of what I might do?"

She let out a humourless laugh. "Are you kidding me? I'm terrified of you, but not for the reasons you're worried about."

"I love you," he told her, the words springing to his lips of their own accord, but as soon as they were out of his mouth, he knew that they were true. He wasn't sure how or why, but he loved her. Somehow he always had, even when he couldn't remember it.

He watched her stiffen, her eyes registering shock, then alarm. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"What makes you think I don't mean it?" he challenged her, frustrated that she was going to try to fight him again. There was no way she could know what he was feeling when he wasn't sure he understood it himself.

"These last few days have been great, but you don't even know me, Jack. As far as you're concerned, we only met three months ago."

He wished it were that simple, but it wasn't, not when he had memories of her from another life jumbled up with the new ones inside his head.

"Three months was long enough for me to know I loved you the first time," he reminded her. From what she'd told him, he hadn't been shy about admitting it then either.

He could tell that he was succeeding in breaking down her defences when her expression softened and she regarded him with a secretive smile, as though reminded of a private joke.

"What?"

"You told me once you knew after three weeks."

"I'm curious, when did you first realise you loved me?" Jack asked her, combing his fingers through her hair in lazy strokes.

It was the end of his first day as an official member of the Austen – now Austen-Shephard – household. In honour of the occasion, Kate had cooked him a special dinner, and after tucking Aaron in together, they had settled themselves on her – now their – couch with an expensive bottle of red wine.

Several glasses later, they were both a little tipsy, which seemed to have put Jack in his current confessional mood.

"Can I plead the fifth?" she joked, reluctant to dredge up the pain and confusion of those early days now when everything was so perfect between them.

She thought she knew what love was when she was with Tom, and later, Kevin, but nothing in her life had prepared her for the sheer bliss of moments like this, when the rest of the world melted away and it was just her and Jack, talking and touching and basking in this incredible new level of intimacy.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he assured her, but she could tell from his tone that he was disappointed.

After all the work he'd put into winning her over, all the times she'd pushed him away, she decided that the least she could do was be truthful with him now.

"No, I do," she insisted, sitting up and draining the rest of her glass to fortify herself. "It was that day in the jungle, after Sawyer came back from the other side of the island."

"You mean the day you yelled at me, then kissed me and ran off?" he teased her.

She couldn't help cracking a smile at his description, even if it didn't paint her in the most flattering light.

"Not my finest moment, I admit."

What had seemed so real at the time, felt ridiculous in hindsight, and now that she knew how good it could be, she wished that she'd stuck around long enough to find out.

"You know, we never did get around to finishing that conversation," he reminded her.

"Oh yeah? And which conversation would that be?"

There were so many of them, all those almosts and maybes; it was something of a miracle that they'd ever managed to take the next step.

"The one where you said you were sorry you kissed me and I said I wasn't, and then I'm pretty sure you were gonna explain why you did it."

"I was, was I?"

"Yeah, you were," he continued, charming her one of his rare displays of cockiness. "And then I was gonna kiss you again, for real this time."

She doubted that it would have happened that way even if they hadn't been interrupted – they weren't ready then, she wasn't ready – but it was nice to imagine.

"Alright, here goes – I yelled at you because I was afraid I'd never be good enough for you, and I kissed you because I really wanted to be."

When she met his eyes again, he was frowning. "I knew you were acting crazy, but that… Why would you even think that, Kate?"

It had taken becoming Aaron's mother to convince her that she wasn't worthless, that she could be worthy of someone like him.

"Because of who I was, and who you were. You saved people, and I… killed them."

He was silent for a moment while he considered this, and then he said, "You can't still believe that. Not after everything that happened."

He might not be a killer like her, but she knew now that under the right circumstances, he could be.

"No, not anymore," she agreed. "We've both made mistakes, done things we regret. Things we can't take back."

Despite their determination to get on with their lives, there were still moments like this when the weight of the past hung heavy between them.

"I get that you were scared, but why did you run from me, Kate?" he asked. "You have to know that I would never hurt you."

"Because I didn't wanna hurt you," she explained.

To her surprise, he burst out laughing. "You realise that makes no sense?"

By trying to protect him, she'd done the very thing she set out to avoid.

"You're right, it doesn't," she agreed, sharing his grin. "So what about you? When did you first know you loved me?"

It was his turn to look uncomfortable. "I'm guessing you're not gonna let me plead the fifth on this one?"

"Uh uh," she told him, topping up each of their glasses before settling back in her seat. "You started this, Jack."

"Turnabout is fair play, I suppose," he allowed.

She expected to hear that it was during their time with the Others, so she was stunned when he began: "It must've been around the time you and Sawyer found the gun case. I wanted to help you, for you to trust me, but you didn't and that hurt. I realised afterwards the reason I cared so much was because I was in love with you."

"We'd only known each other a couple of weeks then," she pointed out. Was that really long enough to fall in love with someone?

She thought back to the way he'd watched her foraging for seeds in the jungle after he'd forced the truth out of her. She'd sensed that he had feelings for her at the time, but she'd never imagined that they were that deep.

"You know what they say – when you know, you know, and I knew, even if I had a lousy way of showing it sometimes."

There was a time, after his father's funeral, when she was sure that they'd missed their chance. It wasn't until his confession outside the courthouse that she began to believe again, only for him to shoot her down this time.

"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we hadn't been so stupid?" she asked him.

"All the time," he admitted, "but it doesn't matter how we got here. All that matters is that we're here now."

"So," she agreed, putting her glass down and taking his hand instead, "Why don't we continue celebrating that upstairs?"

"Guess I wasn't as obtuse as I thought," Jack announced with a grin once Kate had finished her story.

He slid his arms around her, drawing her into a delicate kiss.

"You wanna stay the night?" she asked, resting her forehead against his when they pulled back. "I know it's not as romantic as the beach house…"

"I'm sure we'll manage," he agreed, kissing her again.

After a moment, she let him go. "Now if you're done brooding, we should go back inside while there's still some cake left."

Next chapter: What does Margo think about Jack and Kate getting back together?