Whatever it Takes
A/N: Lost Summer Challenge 2023; prompt by W0LFS0NG: Juliet survives the bomb.
(Italics are all flashbacks, happening in a linear fashion. Regular text is present day, also happening linearly.)
Huge thanks to Finneganhart for beta-ing the first half! :)
—-
James felt like there were ants under his skin as he listened to Jacob's bullshit explanation for why they were all here. Why so many of them had died on this goddamned rock, ripped from their lives like they were ripped from the plane as it broke apart in midair. Why they'd been chosen, and no one else.
He wanted to be angry. He really did. But he couldn't. Because Jacob looked right at him as he said, "You were all looking for something that you couldn't find out there," and that made him think about Juliet. How he never would have found her if he hadn't come here. How she'd been trapped here for so long, and it had all been Ben's fault.
Hell, maybe it'd been Jacob's too.
Smoke filled the air around them, tickling his nostrils. He raked at his hair, agitated that he was still here, doing nothing. He needed to be doing something. He didn't know what. He'd just wanted to talk to the guy, before it was too late. Before he was gone forever, and all the answers James needed were gone with him.
But then his opportunity came.
Hurley asked, timid and uncertain, "So...how you gonna pick?"
Jacob grimaced, likely his attempt at a friendly smile. "I'm not going to pick, Hugo. I want you to have the one thing that I was never given - a choice."
Kate bristled. "And if none of us chooses it?"
"Then this ends very badly," Jacob responded. His tone was grave, and James knew this was what he'd been waiting for. Fuck the rules. If he had access to this 'light' or whatever, then that might just be what he needed.
And god help him, he needed to save her.
Jack moved, though the tension around the fire was thick and the air was charged. He was going to volunteer, the self-righteous bastard, and then everything would be for nothing. Jack always followed the rules.
So James moved faster. "I'll do it," he said, gravelly and wavering, despite his commitment to do anything to achieve his needs. His arms and legs felt like they were made of jelly. But it felt… momentous, saying the words aloud. Having everyone's narrowed eyes swivel to stare at him in shock.
Jack tensed, his sharp intake of breath like a thorn in James's side. He'd had enough of Jack being the hero.
Not this time.
—-
TWO DAYS PRIOR
Juliet's weight was almost lifeless in his arms. She didn't have the strength to hold onto his neck, and her head kept lolling to the side. But the adrenaline was enough to keep James moving. He had to keep moving, despite feeling like he'd drop like a stone at any moment.
He felt the debris from the explosion slicing against his legs as he moved, poking and prodding and snagging at his clothes, but he didn't care. He carefully maneuvered around their craggy surroundings, focusing on the sounds of her breathing. At least she was still breathing. He thanked God for the first time in his whole life. At least she stood a damn chance.
When he finally saw the light, he started screaming for help. Hands, he wasn't sure whose, helped him lift her unconscious body out of the hole he'd dug when he first heard her calling for help. It was enough to give him the strength he needed to pull himself out, and then he hefted her back up into his arms, wedding style.
His gut plummeted, joining the metal rebar graveyard he'd just come out of.
He couldn't think of that now. The ring - it was still there. He could ask her when this was all over. He still had time, and he wasn't going to waste another minute of it. She'd come out of this, she had to, and when she did, he wouldn't waste another goddamn second.
They got her to the van and Jack immediately started assessing her injuries. Her pupils were equal and reactive, whatever the hell that meant, but she wasn't waking up. She was coated in blood, but Jack couldn't seem to find the source of the bleeding fast enough.
"Fix her!" James felt himself scream, his voice rough and hoarse and shaking. He sucked in a ragged breath, and Jack chose to ignore him.
Sayid, who was paler than James ever thought possible, fixed a lazy, drooping eye in his direction. The only acknowledgment that he'd said anything at all.
Someone said something about a temple. James didn't register it. He couldn't stand to watch Jack's hands roam all over Juliet's body - lifting her shirt, pressing on her thighs as her calves dangled down from the trunk. The rational part of his mind knew he was just trying to find any open wounds, but the feral, possessive part of his brain roared in protest. He climbed into the back of the van, pressed his back against the seats, and hauled Juliet's body out of Jack's grasp. Sayid, with what little energy he had left, scooched to the left.
"I can't find the bleeding! She's got cuts everywhere!" Jack finally shouted, his frustration evident on his face. He looked worried, and James's heart seized at the flicker of doubt in Jack's face. The lack of confidence. James didn't need to ask if she would be okay. Jack's sorrowful expression said it all.
"I'll find it," James growled back, and hoisted Juliet's limp form a little higher.
Her ankle looked like it was tilting the wrong way. And on the same leg, there was a bump on the side of her calf beneath her jeans.
James thought he was going to be sick. He just knew that was her bone, poking out of her perfect skin.
He thought about how just days go, that calf had been tucked over his shoulder. He'd kissed the inside of it, where that bump is, eliciting the most wonderful, melodic laugh from her perfect mouth.
More pain sliced through James's chest, and he pushed the memory aside with everything he had.
The van was racing along the road, bumpy and nauseating, but still James looked.
Like Jack said, she wasn't just bleeding from somewhere - she was bleeding everywhere. Some small, some deep cuts were all over her body. The scariest one was at the back of her head beneath her hair, leaving a round stain on James's chest where her head rested against him.
He licked his lips, trying to stay calm. He tasted the tang of her blood in his mouth.
"It's gonna be okay, baby," he soothed, and pressed his hand firmly to the back of her head. He held her as tightly as he could, even though his body still felt like jello, wobbly and cold. "I got you. I got you."
—-
"Yeah, I said it. I got it. You're welcome," he growled to his companions, and no one said a word. The silence was heavy, broken only by the crackling of the fire.
Jacob turned to him, eyes pinched together in concern. "Thank you, James. I'm surprised, but grateful."
James scoffed. "What, ya didn't think I had it in me to step up?"
Jacob said nothing at first, thinking about his answer. Then he said, "I knew you had it in you. That's why you're here. But truthfully, no, I didn't think you'd be the one to volunteer."
James grumbled under his breath. Jacob hadn't been betting on him. No one ever did. No one had true faith in him, besides her.
"Sawyer…" Kate started to say, but James shot her a pained look. "Are you sure…?"
"Yes, I'm fuckin' sure. You don't think I can do it?" he hissed.
"This isn't your burden," Jack started to protest, but James rocketed to his feet.
"What - and ya think it's yours? Just cuz you think you gotta be the one to fix everything? Always be everyone's savior?" Jack shrank under the weight of James's glare. "I'm just as capable of holdin' this place together as you, Doc." The scorn in James's tone was not lost on anyone.
"You don't really want this," Kate whispered, and it almost broke him. He almost let out the sob that now lived permanently behind his sternum. He almost crumbled, telling her she was right, that he didn't want any of this. That he just wanted to rewind his life back to two weeks ago when everything was sunshine and flowers, groovy and loving. Back to cooking supper and reading by lamplight, shared showers and routine.
But he didn't. Because he couldn't have any of those things again if she didn't make it.
He had to do this.
"Are you sure, James?" Jacob asked, fixing his gaze on James, who stood shaking like a leaf in front of the fire.
He swallowed. He thought about silky blonde hair and dancing in the kitchen and arguing over whose turn it was to do laundry and how it felt to have her pressed against his back in their bed.
He stopped shaking and straightened his shoulders. He took a deep breath. "I'm positive," he confirmed, and the confidence in his voice sounded real, even to him.
"Good… then it's time."
He led James down a path to a stream. He waited until he could hear the tinkling of the water over the crackling of the fire before he looked back. Jack had his arms crossed, looking down into the fire, and Kate had her hand over her face. Hurley was the only one watching him and Jacob from his perch on a fallen log.
He wasn't sure why, but it helped James feel less alone.
"There's a bamboo field, not far from here. Beyond it, across a ridge, is the heart of the island. That's where the light is... That's where he's trying to go. And that's what you have to protect," Jacob explained.
"That ain't far from where we crashed, is it?"
"Not far, no."
"Hmm." James was trying to calculate the distance between this supposed 'heart' and the barracks.
"Listen, James… you need to know something."
"Yeah? And what's that?" James tried to keep the snark to a minimum, but this was already taking longer than he expected it would. He needed to get back.
"You can't bring people back from the dead. It doesn't work like that."
James's attention snapped up, like a taut rubber band stinging against his skin. "She ain't dead."
Jacob looked at him with such sympathy it made James's gut curdle. "Not yet, no. But it's coming. She's fulfilled her destiny - she did what she was meant to do."
James's hands began to shake with the rising tide of his rage. Jacob didn't understand. And how could he? He was a monster too, in his own right. With no connections, no love. He couldn't possibly understand how James felt.
"She didn't deserve any of this. She's a good person, who never shoulda been brought here in the first place. So leave. Her. Outta this. And let's go. We got work to do."
Jacob opened his mouth to say something else, but thought better of it. He nodded, and moved closer to the stream. "Do you have a cup?"
"No, I ain't got no cup." But that wasn't true, was it? His face fell as he remembered the small flask in his pocket. The one he'd stashed there hours or maybe even days ago. Was it yesterday? It didn't matter.
Sheepishly, he pulled it out. He brought it to his lips, knocked back the rest of the whiskey he'd stored there, and handed it to Jacob, wiping his mouth with the back of his other hand.
Jacob took it, pursing his lips slightly in judgment. He put the flask in the water, filling it up, and then straightened back up. He said something in Latin that James didn't understand, and when he was done, James asked, "And if I do this - I'll be able to do anything you can do?"
Jacob nodded and handed him the flask, a hint of sorrow behind his dark eyes. "Yes, James. Now drink." James did as he was told, and gulped down every last drop of water. It tasted… like water.
"Now what?" he asked, and burped a little.
Jacob sighed, resigned. "Now you're like me."
—-
In contrast to the fresh air of the jungle around them, the temple smelled old and musty, like rot. And to James, it also smelled like blood.
He gripped Juliet hard. He knew if she made it - no, when she made it - she'd have bruises in the form of his fingerprints. He didn't want to hurt her any more than she already was, but she was slipping, and with the adrenaline wearing him down, she seemed to grow heavier with each step.
He watched, dazed, as Sayid was brought down to the pool. James's heartbeat thudded in his ears. How was a pool supposed to help them? It was just ordinary water. But also… why wasn't he arguing for Juliet to go first?
Because he didn't trust them, he realized. He felt caged, trapped, surrounded by Others pointing guns at them while he held her as tightly as he could. His arms were shaking with the effort.
Did they know her? Did any of them recognize her? And if they did, would that help them, or hurt them? After all, she'd defected, hadn't she? Wasn't she considered a traitor?
He thought of the brand.
He didn't know what to do.
But then Sayid started to struggle. The Others were drowning him, right in front of them, and Jack and Hurley were screaming for them to stop.
James slid to the floor, back against the wall. He clutched Juliet hard to his chest. He checked for a pulse - she was still breathing - but she wouldn't be for long, not if they got her.
Carefully, during the commotion surrounding Sayid, James rose, leaving Juliet propped against the temple wall. He chose the poor schmuck closest to him, crept up behind him, and brought his elbow down hard on the back of the man's neck. He dropped like a stone, and James grabbed his gun.
"What do you think you're doing?" One of the Others shouted, and pointed his gun at James. But James was faster, and shot a warning shot just shy of the man's leg. The pop echoed around the chamber.
"Nobody move!" he roared, and everything came to a standstill. The only sounds were the floppy, squelching noises of Jack performing CPR, and the bubbling from the dark pool a few feet away.
"I don't know what the fuck's goin' on here, but I don't want no part of it!" Somewhere to his right, Kate burst into tears. James flicked the gun's attention to everyone he didn't recognize, daring them to try something. "Kate! Hugo! Grab Juliet. Now."
Kate and Hurley eyed one another, but did as he said. They each roped one of her arms around their shoulders and stood, facing him.
"Good. Now, get her in the water. And if I see anyone try anything, and I mean anything, ya get a bullet to the brain. Got it?"
He angled himself so he stood at the foot of the pool with everyone in sight, tan stone at his back. He didn't know what he was doing here. He'd seen that scrawny guy with the glasses cut himself and dunk it in the pool. It didn't heal him, but was it supposed to? Was it supposed to work instantaneously, or did it take time? James didn't know, but he was willing to try anything - even a pool of ordinary looking water.
Kate and Hurley pulled Juliet into the bubbling pool. The scrawny guy tried to protest, but James cocked the gun. "Don't even think about it, John," he murmured, and the man backed off, his complaint lodged in his throat.
To his right, the Japanese man stood still. He said something James couldn't understand. Juliet was in to her waist now. He just needed to buy them time.
"What'd he say?" James shouted to the scrawny man, the John Lennon wannabe.
"He says it won't work. What you're trying to do." The guy held his hands up, placating.
"And why the hell not?" James shouted. Kate was gently lowering Juliet's head into the water, careful to keep her face afloat. Her blonde hair fanned out in a golden halo around her head. Even from here, James could see the blood mingling with the murky water. It made his stomach twist.
The Japanese man responded, and without being prompted, the other man translated, "Because something has gone wrong."
Wrong? Was that why his cut hadn't healed? Was this pool supposed to look different?
"I don't know what kind of sick fucks y'all are, drownin' a guy whose already almost dead. But she's mine, and you won't touch her, you got me? She's gonna stay in there a little while longer, and then we're gone. Call off your goons, or Head Honcho here gets it." He aimed the gun at the Japanese man, who looked as still and emotionless as a statue.
Then he nodded. And after another minute of her floating in the pool with Kate and Hurley's help, James nodded too. They pulled her out, dragging her limp, seemingly lifeless form towards him. He crouched low enough to sling her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and held on even tighter to the gun.
"Don't follow us," he snapped, and without another word, backed out of the temple, leaving behind the only shred of hope he had left.
—-
Jack, James, Kate and Hurley emerged from the forest, only to find Ben, Desmond, and the man posing as Locke walking towards them. James had to remember how to breathe, seeing Ben's smarmy face. The way he looked like he had won, when James knew for a fact that he had lost everything.
But he couldn't give anything away. He had to remember the plan. Did he hate that it was Jack's plan? Absolutely. With every fiber of his being. But Jack was like a ship lost at sea, searching in vain for purpose, even as circumstances beyond his control tossed him around with the force of the waves.
He wanted to help, he'd said. He had a plan. And James had agreed to that plan, only because they were running out of time. He could feel it now, that ache behind his rib cage where his heart was (or would be, if he had one). He felt tethered to her somehow, and could feel the faint pulse of life slowly eddying away. Soon, it would be gone for good.
He couldn't let that happen. He had to hold on to some kind of hope that this wouldn't have all been in vain.
Kate's gunshots made his ears ring. One right after the other, aimed at Locke. He shouted her name, reached a hand out to try and stop her.
"You might wanna save your bullets," Locke said with a cheeky, confident smirk. Until, that is, his eyes landed on James.
Then he grinned wider than the cat who got the canary. "James!" he called out, as if they were old friends running into each other in public. "I have to admit - I'm surprised! I thought for sure Dr. Shephard here would have been Jacob's first choice."
"He didn't pick. I volunteered," James corrected, trying to breathe through his rising blood pressure. He had a job to do. He needed to do it.
"I assume you're here to stop me?"
Jack stepped forward, as planned. "He is. I'm not."
"Is that so?" Locke asked, eyebrows rising. "Interesting. But I'm sorry, Jack. I think you're a little confused about what I came here to do."
Jack shook his head, and James tugged Kate backwards with a sharp yank. "I'm not. You're here to destroy the island. Luckily, we have a conman on our team. Tricked Jacob into giving him his power."
"But I ain't too happy with you, Smokey. And I wanna see you dead." James shot him a look that could cut glass. He needed honesty to bait the trap. So he said the most honest thing he could think of in the moment, something that Locke would believe.
And it seemed to work, because Locke laughed, unconcerned, "Is that so?"
"So it is," James agreed. "But… Despite my personal interests, I'm also with the Doc here. I wanna see the island burn. After I get me and my people off it." A half-truth, like a chocolate-covered bug. Sweet enough on the outside to draw him in, but with something shriveled and distasteful inside.
Locke cocked his head to the side, considering. "And just how exactly are you going to do that, James? Are you so sure your girlfriend isn't already dead?" His eyes twinkled like the man James used to know, but they were filled with a menace the real John Locke never had.
He wanted to react. He wanted to punch the bald bastard so hard across the face, he went sprawling to the ground, with blood spurting from his mouth.
James could only clench his jaw as Locke continued, "I get it. That's why you volunteered, isn't it? You thought you could save her." He tsked in chastisement, and James felt his entire body tense, ready and willing and dying to strike.
But that wasn't the plan. And he wasn't that guy anymore. They'd thought this through on the way out here, and they needed Locke's cooperation. Otherwise, this would never work. He'd kept a level head when he'd first seen Ben; he needed to do the same thing now.
Even if that meant going slightly off-script.
"Here's the deal," James explained, redirecting the conversation. "I told the Doc where Jacob's special little spring is. You're familiar with it, we hear." Locke's face contorted with rage. "He's gonna help ya do whatever ya need to do to flush this place down the toilet. Then, we're gonna gather up our people and leave. If you make it to that point without fuckin' us over, then there's a seat waiting for you."
Kate reared back, shooting James a crazed look. Leaving a seat for the monster posing as Locke had never been part of the plan, but he didn't care. Kate reacted exactly how he knew she would; James just hoped Locke was convinced by it, too. Jack's face remained stoic, as he stood and said nothing. He'd put his trust in James - something James had never expected would happen. He needed to make good on his word. This had to work.
Locke considered James's proposal. "And I'm just supposed to trust you, James?"
"You don't have to trust me. Do ya trust him?" James inclined his head to Jack. "He says he's gonna help ya after I lead us there, and do whatever ya need to do to destroy the island. His word enough for ya?"
Locke smiled, slowly, like a bobcat waiting to pounce on his prey. "And your goal is truly to just… go home?"
James ignored the slight, hidden just beneath his words. How Locke knew, somehow, that James no longer had a home. (Except that he did, and he'd been there, just a few days ago. When had the island become his home? That tiny bungalow he'd resented for so long. But he knew the answer. She'd made it a home.)
"I'm gettin' my people outta here. They've been through enough." He wasn't going to talk about Juliet anymore. Not when he was seconds away from strangling the life right out of this man's body.
Locke was quiet for several long moments, mulling over James's words. He cocked his head to the side, inspecting James as if he could read right through him. James hoped he couldn't. Then he'd see the murder in his heart, and the betrayal just waiting for the right moment to be dealt.
Finally, Locke spoke. "Okay. It seems we're on the same page then. So let's get to it. Not a moment to waste."
—-
James knew he was running out of time. How much time, he wasn't sure. But he had to get her somewhere safe. Try and wake her up, maybe.
Maybe if he could, she'd know what to do. She always knew what to do.
Leaving the temple was the first step.
"Sawyer!" Hurley shouted, running after them. "Wait!"
James kept walking. "I said not to follow us, Hugo. Means you too."
"Where are you taking her?"
"I don't rightly know yet," James sighed.
"Well… shouldn't you keep her here? There's like, ya know, people here. People who can maybe help."
"Like they helped Sayid?" James bit back. He saw the way Hurley flinched, but he kept walking.
"I know. It was messed up. I get that. But maybe there's doctors, or - "
"Jack's a doctor. And he couldn't do a damn thing."
"You didn't give him a chance!" Hurley practically whined as James placed Juliet in the passenger side of the van. He closed the door and turned.
"He couldn't save her, Hugo! No one can! No one but this crazy, magical island or whatever 'entity' rules over it. I gotta find him." James never once in his life thought he'd say those kinds of words, but now look at him. Since when did he put his faith in anything (other than her)?
"You won't," Hurley whispered, and the pain in his voice drained all the gusto out of James's sails. He sounded certain, and he looked sheepish. Like he knew something James didn't.
James sank against the van. "I don't know what else to do, man. I can't lose her." His voice broke, and a sob worked its way up his throat. Before another could follow, he shoved it back down, locking it away just behind his sternum. He couldn't lose hope now.
"Can you bring her home? You know, to your house? Maybe she just, I dunno, needs rest maybe? But dude… you can't keep carrying her all over the island. She's… she's real hurt…"
"Ya think I don't know that?" James shouted, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "God. I don't know what to fuckin' do." For emphasis, he turned and kicked the tire. Pain lanced up his leg, and he shook it, hissing.
"Take her home," Hurley encouraged, biting his bottom lip. He looked like he was trying not to cry. "At least she'll be comfortable."
James refused to hear any more of what Hurley had to say. He knew what his friend was insinuating. To keep her comfortable, until -
He wouldn't even let himself think the words.
He swallowed hard, pushed off from the van, and circled around the front. He climbed into the driver's side, his breathing erratic, and turned the keys that had been left in the ignition. He left Hurley behind without another word.
There would be no "until."
—-
James breathed hard as they practically ran through the jungle. Tree branches slapped at his face, and he stumbled a few times from holes in the ground. Only Jack seemed capable of keeping up, with the others - Desmond, Ben, Locke, Kate, and Hurley - further behind.
Now felt like his last chance, to ask what had been thrumming through his mind on repeat for the last hour.
"You think this'll work?" he whispered, and expert-at-subterfuge as Jack had become, didn't let his body language show that he'd heard James say anything.
"It's got to," he replied under his breath, and moved slightly closer to James.
"What d'ya think's down there? This… cavern, Jacob mentioned."
"I don't know, Sawyer. But whatever it is - Desmond needs to be there for it."
"You got that part handled?"
Jack scoffed, as if offended by the question. "Yeah. I got it handled."
James pursed his lips in consternation. "Locke's gonna split us up."
"I agree."
"And we gotta let him. Give him the idea he's in control. Then, somehow… Kate and Hugo and me are gonna have to spring the trap."
"What about Linus?" Jack asked, his eyes covertly darting over to James.
It occurred to James in that moment how strange this was - this… partnership, with Jack, of all people. He'd spent so much time hating the guy, and being jealous of everything he got that he didn't earn. And now here they were, doing this thing like they were a team. He wondered vaguely if it would have ended up the same, if Jack had volunteered instead. Probably not.
He didn't doubt that the only reason Jack was doing this with him now was because he had no other choice.
He sighed before answering Jack's question. "I don't know. If I don't kill him first, maybe he can help us."
Jack laughed lightly, the first break in his otherwise indifferent expression. "You can't kill him."
James grit his teeth, thinking of everything that monster had done to Juliet. The living nightmare he'd caused for her. "I know," he forced out. Even though every cell in his body was screaming for him to do it, he knew he couldn't.
At least not yet.
—-
Every muscle in James's body was screaming as he brought Juliet's still limp form into their house. He huffed and grunted as he walked down the hallway to what was once their bedroom, before setting her down gently onto the bed.
The bed that wasn't theirs. Not anymore. He looked around the room. Nothing was theirs anymore.
It seemed like every single room in this house looked different, which was odd considering it felt like only yesterday he was in his own home, with his own things.
Which was probably because it was yesterday, he thought bitterly, and collapsed onto the bed next to Juliet.
He scanned her, checking for any signs of improvement, but she looked the same. Her face was ashen, her damp hair curled around the edges. Her skin was free of blood and grime but her shirt and jeans still bore the stains.
James gingerly felt the back of her head, bracing himself, but the bleeding had stopped. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad - good because it had clotted, or bad because there was no more blood left in her body.
He felt her pulse. It was fluttering beneath his fingers. He didn't know anything about medicine, but he knew enough. Her heart was still beating. She hadn't given up. Which meant he wasn't going to either.
He let himself have five minutes of rest before he went to the bathroom. He relieved himself, and then grabbed a washcloth from the closet. He let the water run over it, and brought it dripping into the bedroom. Gently, he lifted her head and propped her up on the pillows.
"Ya gotta drink baby," he murmured, and dripped some of the water into her mouth. He didn't see her swallow, but she needed hydration. He didn't know much, but he knew enough. Water was important.
He talked to her while he gave her the water, drop by drop, hoping she'd wake up. She didn't.
Her skin was cool to the touch despite the heat outside, so with feverish apology, he stripped her out of her wet clothes, leaving only her bra and underwear. The sight he was left with made him breathless, nauseated.
She was covered, head to toe, in dark blue bruises. She looked like she was morphing into Mystique.
Perhaps that was where all her blood had gone. It was pooling beneath her skin, killing her from the inside out.
James shook his head. No. That wasn't helpful. He couldn't think about that. He needed to focus.
He moved his attention to her leg. Her ankle was swollen and her leg was indeed broken, but it hadn't come through the skin. He tried to think back - any show, any book, any movie - and wondered what he should do.
Infection. That was a thing, right? But did that only matter when the skin was broken? He didn't know. He'd seen war movies where they'd had to splint broken bones. Should he do the same?
He inspected her leg more closely. He could see the angle of how her foot must have landed, to result in these injuries. Trying not to gag, he ran a finger over top of the bruised skin just above the snap.
She didn't move. And that worried James more than almost anything. If she'd only been asleep, she would be howling by now.
For five minutes, he paced around the bedroom, avoiding the creaky floorboard and what was hidden underneath. He couldn't think about that now. He had to think.
He found some women's clothes in the drawers and set them aside. They were big, but they'd fit well enough. Then, he took a deep breath, inspecting her leg once more.
It's just like a puzzle piece, he told himself, and swallowed down the bile creeping up his throat. His breathing became ragged, and he realized he had no clue what to do here.
He tried to think back. He needed something straight… he needed a splint. He walked around the house, trying to find the perfect object, but came up empty. Then, a thought occurred to him and he went outside. He pried off a piece of the fence, then another for good measure. He walked back inside, trying to brace himself for what he was about to do.
He tore up pieces of an old t-shirt he'd found in the drawers and set the strips next to the wood on the bed. He took one final deep inhale before he placed his hands on either side of her mangled calf. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and then he pulled.
She didn't scream, but he did. And with trembling fingers, he lined up the piece of wood with her skin, and tied the strips of cloth around them both, securing them together. He placed the other piece of wood behind her calf, keeping it flat.
By the time he was done, he had fat, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. He'd fucked up. Now he couldn't get her pants on over the splint, and he didn't know if he should take it off and re-do it, or just leave her pants off. In the end, he decided a nightgown would be okay, and swapped the clothes he'd pulled out for something bigger.
He was still shaking as he pulled the nightgown over her head and threaded her arms through the holes. He pulled the fabric down over her hips, across clammy, damp skin, his brain screaming how wrong this all was.
She was so still. And he didn't want her to be. He wanted her to be thrashing, because at least then she'd be awake. She'd be conscious. But then shame washed over him, increasing his nausea, because at least this way, she wasn't feeling the excruciating pain that must be lighting her nerve endings on fire.
He let out one final, choked sob before he gently covered her up with the blanket. She could warm up, and he could try to pretend she was sleeping.
He laid down next to her, placing his outstretched palm over her heart. He needed to feel it beating before he could let himself fall asleep.
—-
The weather was damn near apocalyptic, and all James could think about was Juliet. He couldn't tell if she'd awoken yet, but he could still feel the faint pulse of her energy behind his ribs. He wanted to feel her warm body, soft and pliant, and not stiff with -
He couldn't go there. Goddammit, he couldn't go there.
So he switched his focus. He didn't know what was taking Jack, Locke, and Desmond so long. Ignoring Ben was getting harder and harder to do, out here just waiting.
The rain was coming down in sheets, plastering his hair to his face. And then, the ground started grumbling; as if it were a stomach, starving for the earth and trying to swallow it whole.
James gulped hard, and shot Kate a worried glance. She looked pale, her damp curls sticking to her cheeks.
And then all hell broke loose.
A tree fell, pinning Ben to the ground. At first, the vindictive, evil demon that still lived inside him cackled in delight. But he knew it was wrong - Ben could perhaps prove useful down the road, and it took everything in James's power to help the attempt to free him.
His muscles protested. Not just because the tree was heavy, but because part of him wanted to let the fucker suffer.
And then Miles, of all people, radioed in to Ben. He said they were leaving on the plane. The one that had brought Kate, Jack, and the others back to the island.
His head swam with relief. He could get Juliet on that plane. Somehow, he had to get her on that plane.
He just wish he knew how the fuck he was going to do that.
"I know how we can get there! Locke has a boat," Ben cried, and that was when James remembered.
The air whooshed from his lungs. His stomach turned over, and he had to push the back of his hand against his mouth to keep from vomiting.
There was no way they would make it in time. Not when the plane was on Hydra Island. Juliet was in the opposite direction.
He'd have to break his promise. He wouldn't be able to get her home after all. He wouldn't be able to get her to a doctor.
The sob behind his sternum shot up his esophagus, weaving its way around his hand, pulled out of him by his almost-tangible fear. Kate heard, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears as she looked his way. She clearly knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Do you know where it is?" Hurley had the sense to ask, and Ben nodded vehemently.
"We should head there now! It sounds like we don't have a lot of time!"
James thought about Jack. Would he know where to go? This wasn't part of the plan. Would he be able to meet up with them? Or, by leaving, were they abandoning him to his fate?
"Kate?" James asked. It didn't feel right calling her Freckles. Not now.
Kate looked like she was caught in a bear trap. She didn't know what to do. "What about Jack?"
James shook his head. "He'll just have to meet up with us. If Smokey wants to leave as much as we do, he'll head for the boat too. He's gotta feel the doomsday shit as much as we are. Hell, he's probably causin' it." He tried to convey with his eyes some kind of sympathy, but all he could feel was dread. "We can still make it work. It ain't too late for you."
Kate let out a sob that rivaled his own. He hadn't sugar-coated it for her benefit. He wasn't leaving with them. Not with Juliet fighting for her life back home.
Without another word, they managed to combine forces and free Ben. James's arms were shaking from the effort, but it was a welcomed distraction from the pain in his chest.
With a frantic pace that he didn't have the energy for, they followed Ben's directions towards where the boat was anchored. The rain fell in his stinging eyes, making his vision blurry, but he pressed onwards. Why? He wasn't really sure. He should be going towards the barracks, but something inside him told him he needed to see this through. He needed to see Smokey's demise with his own eyes. He needed this nightmare to be over.
They pushed around the grove rather than going through it. James didn't want Bug-Eyes anywhere near it. And just when James almost gave up, when all his energy had been spent, he spied it.
Up ahead was a cliff, and Jack and Locke were facing off. Jack had gone completely rogue, slamming into Locke in a full-body tackle. Desmond was nowhere to be found, and James found himself surging ahead.
But Kate was faster.
She whipped out her gun, aiming. James knew she'd make it - he had no doubt. She was a much better shot than he was, and she was determined and untethered.
The shot rang out, echoing despite the pouring rain. James could see she had in fact shot Locke, directly in the back.
And - son of a bitch - the man began to bleed.
"I saved you a bullet!" she screamed, fierce and indignant, and that was when James noticed Jack, clutching his side. It was far away, but he swore he could see blood seeping through his fingers.
"It's over, Smokey!" James heard himself scream. "Leave 'em alone! You want a spot on that boat, you gotta drop the knife!"
"She shot me!" Locke screamed back, his face contorted in rage and pain.
Kate said nothing, instead raced to where Jack was trying to stand. She ripped his shirt off his body, balling the fabric up to press firmly against the wound.
Behind him, James heard Ben and Hurley emerging from the treeline. He hoped they had the good sense to stay the hell back.
"You stabbed him! Tit for tat, asshole! Now, you got one shot to make this right!" James shouted, slowly approaching where the trio stood, his attention focused solely on Locke.
Locke held up his hands, even as another tremor shook the ground beneath their feet. "What the hell do you want, James?" he screamed, and James took the final step he needed to be close enough to his enemy. Jacob's energy flowed through him, he had no way to explain it, and along with it was the burning rivalry with the man who stood before him. The man who wore John Locke's face, someone James never expected to be facing off with like this.
But it didn't matter. Because he wasn't Locke. He was evil incarnate. And it was James's job to keep him from ever leaving the island.
"I thought I'd made myself pretty damn clear before, Hoss," James seethed, and got close enough to smell Locke's breath. "I wanna see you dead."
And he pushed him, hard. With every last bit of effort he had left in him. He couldn't believe he'd gotten close enough to do it, but it had to be him. It was always going to have to be him. And though the plan hadn't quite worked out exactly as they thought it would, Kate and Jack had done their jobs. Locke had been distracted, and the shove had been just enough for him to fly backwards, sailing over the edge of the cliff, arms flailing.
They could hear the sickening, crunching thud, even over the roar and rumble of the island falling apart.
The three of them looked over the side, and sure enough, the monster posing as John Locke was dead, lying at the bottom of the cliff.
A weight felt like it had been lifted from James's shoulders, but he knew it wasn't over yet.
"You gotta go!" he screamed towards Jack and Kate, and pointed over the side.
Kate vehemently shook her head, and Jack looked pale, shivering from the rain on his skin. He looked like he was in shock.
"You heard me! Go!"
"I can't leave you!" Kate screamed back in protest, but James gripped her shoulders with a bruising force.
"Ya gotta. I signed up for this. I gotta stay here. And you know damn good and well, I ain't leavin' her behind."
Kate sniffled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "We'll wait for you! You can still make it!"
James shook his head, and signaled to Jack with his eyes, pleading. "No. We won't. I can't get Juliet over to Hydra, not in this storm. You're gonna have to go. Now." James shoved Kate away, and Jack firmly clasped her hand in his. He looked at James in awe, but said nothing. He didn't have to. He looked grateful. Like for once, someone else was playing hero and making all the decisions, so he didn't have to.
"I'm sorry," Kate said in a voice just above the whisper. He didn't know what she was sorry for, but it didn't matter now.
"Don't be. Just go live your life, ya hear me? I'm sure the plane's got medical supplies. You can take care of the doc when you get there, okay?" Kate nodded, and her and Jack stepped up to the edge.
"Goodbye," James said again, his voice thick.
And Jack and Kate jumped off the side, landing in the tumultuous grey ocean below.
James turned around, eyeing Hurley and Ben, who each wore stunned faces. "You stayin' or goin'?" he called, and jogged over to them.
"I'm staying," Ben said absently, eyes still glued to where Jack and Kate disappeared off the side.
"And you, Hugo?" James asked, trying not to reveal the hope in his heart that Hurley would stay.
Hurley frowned, unsure. "I think… I think I'm meant to stay, dude," he said quietly, and James's chest soared. He didn't think he could do this alone.
"Good. I need you two to go to the stream and check on Desmond." He grimaced as he said it, knowing damn good and well he was going against his better judgment, letting Ben have anything to do with that place.
Ben's eyes snapped up, surprised as well. "Me too?" he asked warily, and James shoved him out of reflex.
"Get this shit under control. I need as much help as I can get. God only knows what happened to Desmond, or how to fix all this shit," he said, waving his hands around in emphasis. "Figure it out, before we all die!"
"Where are you going?" Hurley asked, fearful from James's bluntness.
James sighed, trying to muster the strength he needed for the long hike back. "I'm going to save Juliet."