Act Three
So I sneak out to the garden to see you
We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew, so close your eyes.
Escape this town for a little while
Love Story, Taylor Swift
—-
Juliet sat on her blanket in the grass, the rocky cliffside several dozen yards behind her. She could hear the crashing of waves in the distance, and the sound lulled her as she waited. She was deep in the trenches of her mind, worrying over whether he'd show, when she finally felt a presence, heard a shuffling, and saw a flashlight coming towards her from the bottom of the hill. She wiggled her own flashlight, getting his attention, and he shut his off.
She stood in anticipation, nervously picking at her fingernails when he finally arrived. They were both a little breathless; her from excitement, his likely from his uphill trek.
"Hi," she said, unable to control her wide grin. "You made it."
"So did you," he said back, and suddenly Juliet felt 15 again - sneaking around behind her mom's back, meeting a boy in the park when she should be in bed. Her heart beat wildly, and she wondered if he could hear it over the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliffs behind them. She sure could.
But then he was slowly walking towards her again, like he was approaching a skittish animal, and his arms were weaving around her back, causing her lips to part in surprise. He pulled her in towards him; painfully slowly, as if he was making sure she was okay with the contact. She was more than okay with it, and she inhaled sharply as she threw her arms around his neck and clutched him against her. Where he was timid and careful, she couldn't hug him fast enough.
"Hey, it's okay," he murmured, and she breathed in the smell of his neck. She never wanted to forget that smell - woodsy and smoky, like a campfire. He rubbed her back in slow, warm circles, and she rose up onto her tiptoes to hug him even tighter. "I'm here, darlin'. I'm here." (She couldn't help but wonder if he called a lot of women that, or if the nickname was reserved for her. She hoped it was the latter.)
"This is crazy," she murmured, her lips pressed against his flannel shirt.
He nodded, and pulled back to cup her face between his strong, warm hands. He brought his face down, inches from hers, and his expression contorted into something akin to determination. It felt wholly more intimate than their last interaction, seeing him like this - up close, alone in the darkness, without the fear of getting caught. His features looked smoother somehow, without the shadows; his eyes brighter and more clear, focused intently on hers.
"It may be crazy, but that don't make it any less real. You feel it too, don'tcha?"
Juliet's head bobbed enthusiastically. She did. She really, truly, did.
And then he kissed her, softly at first, and then she parted her lips and his tongue slid into her mouth, caressing and coaxing. His lips were firm and warm and they sent electrifying tingles up and down her spine.
She'd never had a kiss that felt like this. Like he was a drug, making her lightheaded and giddy at the same time. Like they were connected at a cellular level, becoming one instead of two. Like he could see her - all of her - just through the lens of this kiss alone. And she'd thought their first kiss was electric – this one outshined it by a mile.
When he pulled away, a little whimper escaped her mouth, and he let out a low hmph in approval. He had to have felt changed, too. "I thought you were supposed to wait until after a first date before you kiss a woman," she chided playfully, and his thumbs stroked her cheekbones as she forced her eyes to flutter back open. He smiled at her, and even in the darkness, she could see the depth of his dimples beaming down at her.
"We seem to be doin' everything else in reverse, ain't we? Why mess that up?" He punctuated his reasoning with another firm, but chaste kiss, and lowered his hands from her face. The butterflies in her stomach whirled and dipped and soared to new heights, and Juliet had to wonder what kind of spell he'd just put her under. She'd never be the same after this.
"I brought wine," she told him, trying to regain her composure, and gestured behind her to the blanket she'd set up. It might be warm by now, but she didn't care; it was still alcohol. "I didn't have any cheese, but I did bring some pretzels."
"That sounds good to me." He sat down next to her on the blanket, and pulled her into his side. She was grateful; she didn't want to sit on this blanket without touching him. Soon, morning would come, and who knew when she'd get the chance to touch him again.
He was so warm and sturdy, just like she thought he'd be.
His touch steadied her racing heart, but she reached for the wine anyway and handed it off to him, needing his help. He removed the arm draped around her to uncork it, and then put his arm back. She didn't bother with bringing glasses, so she raised the bottle to her lips and took a large gulp from the lukewarm wine before handing it over to him.
"Sorry, it's not very good," she choked, smacking her lips dramatically.
He laughed. "Been a long time since I had any wine. You coulda made this in the damn toilet and I'd still probably drink it." Juliet giggled and watched him take a long swig. One of his eyes flickered shut, like it was sour, and he coughed a little, sticking his tongue out in disgust. It was cute, his expression, and Juliet was glad she'd had the forethought to bring it.
They traded back and forth, each taking smaller sips this time, before he set the wine bottle to the side, propping it up against her bag. She sat forward just slightly, so she could look at him.
She wasn't quite sure how to direct the conversation from here. She just wanted to do this right, and she didn't have a lot of time to work with. Sunrise might be hours away, but time already felt like sand slipping through her fingers. "Find this spot okay? Or did you get lost?" she asked, and then cursed herself for starting with small talk of all things.
He shook his head and answered, "Your directions were good. But I ain't ever been up here before, so it was a bit slow-goin'. But it was fine."
"Good. I'm glad." She cocked her head to the side, feeling the warmth of his gaze even through the darkness. What she'd meant to say was that she was glad he was here with her.
"You come here often?" he joked, the corner of his mouth quirking up. Another thing they had in common, it seemed: making jokes to divert from any awkwardness.
Juliet laughed. "Therrre it is - the father of all pick-up lines!"
James chuckled and shook his head. "You know what I meant."
He tugged her a little, and she snuggled up against him again. "To answer your question, yes. I come here when I can, but it isn't often that I can get away."
"'Cause of Ben?" James frowned, causing Juliet to tense at the sound of his name. She'd told him about her imprisonment, when they'd met for the first time. It still astounded her how much she'd shared with a complete stranger. (How much she still wanted to bare to him, too.)
"Yeah. It's like I said, he doesn't usually let me out of his sight for long. If not him, then one of his cronies."
"He ain't a Bond villain; he's just a guy."
Juliet pursed her lips, trying to find a way to explain the kind of hold he has over her. How, he always finds a way to undermine everything she says, even when she knows she's right, and uses her weaknesses against her. How, he somehow always makes her feel guilty, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, everytime she does something he doesn't like.
How he's her warden, her tormentor, her stalker, her boogeyman - and how, crazily, he'd started as her boss and for a little while, her friend.
"He uses mind games to keep his control over people. He's… smart. And he has resources. And if I do even one thing out of line…" She paused, thinking about her sister back home and her nephew who should be starting preschool soon. How he has recited Rachel's phone number and address from memory. How he knows Rachel's blood type, her habits, and her license plate number. He may not have ever officially threatened her sister, but he didn't have to. Juliet knew what was on the line, should she disobey.
James kissed the side of her head, bringing her back to the present. She could smell the wine on his breath, and she reached for the bottle, taking a larger-than-necessary swig. She let several long moments pass, the heaviness of her experience hanging over them.
She tried to smile. "I don't wanna bore you about Ben stuff anymore," she whispered, and looked down into her lap. She felt incredibly embarrassed all of a sudden that all three of their conversations seemed to have revolved around his ironclad grip on her.
Gently, James eased her face up until she was looking at him. "He ain't here now. It's just you'n me out here, okay? We got the whole night ahead of us. I got you." She nodded, grateful, and he kissed her forehead. "'Sides, it's the first date, right? What kindsa stuff do people talk about on first dates, anyway?"
Juliet giggled. "Well… there's a few things, maybe. Liiike…" she drank another mouthful, the deep red liquid growing less and less foul with every sip, igniting the courage in her blood. "One's job, their family, umm… their hobbies? Stuff like that."
James frowned, and took the bottle back from Juliet. He took two large gulps before setting the bottle back against the backpack, several long heartbeats passing between them. "Guess it's my turn to make things heavy," he finally muttered, and turned his face away. He waited another moment before saying, voice low and shameful, "Folks're dead, so it's just me. Grew up in and out of my uncle's house, group homes, stuff like that." Juliet tried not to gasp, but one escaped her anyway. "And as for a job… well…"
She saw him work his jaw from side to side, like he was chewing on the words, trying to spit them out. She gave him time, and eventually he seemed to reach some decision in his head, because he nodded and faced her once more. "I'm a conman, Juliet."
He watched her, analyzing her, as if that statement alone would send her running back to the barracks. And maybe it should, but she was captivated by the sadness in his eyes - the fear, lingering there - that she didn't so much as blink at his admission.
Perhaps that was what made all the difference, because the stoniness of his expression softened, and his eyes tugged down in the corners. "Ya gonna say somethin'?" he asked softly, and Juliet forced a small smile to her face.
"Are you conning me, James?" she asked, in a voice as gentle as a mother's touch, as soft as the breeze on a spring day. He shook his head, adamantly, resolutely. "Then I'm not concerned with what you might have done in your past. What matters is now, here. What you do in the future."
His demeanor shifted, punctuated by the slumping of his shoulders. It was like she'd taken a weight off of him. "If you were smart, you'd realize I'm no good, Juliet."
"Guess I'm not smart then," she joked, but James groaned.
"That ain't what I meant –"
"I know, James. It's okay. We all have our baggage."
"Guess so," he responded softly.
"And hey– maybe it's for the best that we lay it all out on the line now, you know?" She put a hand on his cheek, stroking his stubble. "That means every date after this will mean more, hmm? If all the hard stuff is already out of the way."
"What d'ya mean?" he asked, the hope in his tone unmistakeable. She'd said there would be more dates after this. It made them both smile.
Juliet shrugged and lowered her hand. "We don't know much about one another. Maybe… we tell each other whatever we feel comfortable sharing. Then we won't be strangers anymore." What she didn't say was that it would also validate the love she felt burning inside her. How could she possibly feel this strongly for a stranger? Perhaps, once they weren't unknown to one another, the strange dissonance she felt would evaporate in the island breeze, and she could let the feeling fully envelope her. Because then she'd know him.
James nodded and leaned in to press another kiss to her temple. "I can do that," he murmured against her skin. The tenderness just about broke her in half. It was so antithetical to the tough, dangerous guy he projected himself to be.
She didn't protest when he reached for the wine again. They had a lot of ground to cover, it would seem. "You know what's weird?" she asked, watching his throat bob with a deep swallow of the last dregs from the bottle.
"Hmm?" he responded, and scrunched up his nose in distaste.
She grinned. "How not weird this is. But for all intents and purposes, it should be."
James laughed. "I mean, it's a little crazy. But yeah - bein' here with you… it feels good."
"Exactly," she breathed, and gathered up all the wine-flavored courage inside her to lay her head in his lap. He didn't question it, just shifted his hips to make it more comfortable. "I guess I'll go first," she sighed, and looked up at the stars in the night sky, instead of his face. She wasn't sure she'd be able to get it all out with him looking at her as intently as he was.
"Go first?" he asked, and despite the impending weight of their conversation, she smiled.
"Yeah. Airing out all the dirty laundry."
"Now?" he balked, and Juliet gaped at his dismay.
"Isn't that what I just said?"
He chuckled and the movement jostled her. "Yeah, I'm just teasin'. But hang on a minute… you usin' my lap as a couch, then, Blondie? Am I Freud now?!"
Juliet's belly wobbled with her full laugh. "You don't have to if you don't want to, James." But she did want him to. She wanted to know him, as much as she wanted him to know her. She'd never wanted to share herself with anyone as much as she did right now, blanketed by a beautiful starry night.
He shook his head and leaned back on his hands. "I mean… I guess you got a point there. Just… lead by example, I guess. Ya got 55 minutes before your time's up."
They both laughed at the absurdity of what was happening, but the wine was making it easier. Juliet gave in to the weightless feeling.
"Where should I start?" she asked, and James stroked her hair lovingly.
"Tell me 'bout your childhood," he said, and Juliet laughed again.
"You're taking this Freud thing a little too seriously, James."
"Can't help it; it just comes to me." His fingernails scratched lightly against her scalp, causing Juliet to sigh. "Alright, I'll cut back on the jokes. But just… tell me anything. I just wanna hear you talk, Juliet." His voice was soft, and it warmed her cheeks the way he said her name.
So she did. She told him about how her family had moved around a lot when she was a kid, and how her sister had always handled everything better than she had. How it was at her sister's encouragement that she'd applied to med school, and how she'd been the one to begrudgingly walk her down the aisle when she'd married Ed at 24. (In her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if Rachel would approve of James. She hoped she would.)
Talking about Rachel made her smile, but eventually the tides turned, and she started recalling how it felt to take care of her when she'd gotten sick. How Rachel had encouraged her to take this 'job.' How, when Ed had died right in front of her, Rachel had smiled and reminded her that she was finally free, despite Juliet's guilty tears at the time. Free to pursue greener pastures. (Ironic, how right she'd been.)
She told James about her research, the women she'd lost on the island, everything. She was nearing the end of her rope, in what she felt comfortable sharing. The last three years had been the hardest she'd ever had, and she felt more than one stray tear leak from the corner of her eyes and slide down into her hair, but his deft fingers were always there to wipe them away.
It didn't take her a full therapy-sized 55 minutes, but when she was done, she did feel both full and empty at the same time. It felt… relieving, to share herself with him. She hadn't expected that.
She could tell he wasn't as comfortable now that it was his turn, based on the tension in his shoulders and the way he kept clearing his throat, but he forced a smile to his face and obliged her request all the same. They shifted positions, and he put his head into her lap when it was his turn. He didn't have to, but he seemed to want to. Perhaps he wanted to feel cared for as he bared his soul, just as she had.
She couldn't help but run her fingers through his hair, brushing out the knots as he talked. He briefly discussed his parents dying at a young age, though he didn't say how, and Juliet didn't pry. He talked about his upbringing, and how he'd dropped out of high school. She didn't judge him, but her heart swelled and sank with each anecdote he brought to the conversation: how he'd gotten his first bike when he was ten, but his uncle had never taught him how to ride it, so it sat against the house until rust overtook the shiny blue metal. How he'd lost his virginity to a girl he really liked, but she never spoke to him again afterwards. How he'd conned the wrong woman and let himself get too close, and ended up in prison as a result; how he had a daughter out there, somewhere, growing up without him because of it.
His story took her on an emotional roller coaster - despite most of it being safe, maybe even easy conversation, she thought - and by the time he was done, she could feel her own shoulders tense on his behalf. He hadn't had it easy in life, and his trauma had only been punctuated by a plane crash, here, in the most hellish of places.
Before he could move from his spot in her lap, she angled her face down and pulled him in for a kiss.
"Thank you for telling me," she whispered against his lips, and she felt him nod. His hands raked up into her hair, and he sat up off her lap, just to pull her down on top of him.
Sometimes, words didn't need to be said for feelings to be conveyed.
He felt raw, uncomfortable, distressed from baring his soul, but her kisses brought him peace and acceptance, for all that he'd told her, and it wasn't long before her body felt loose and limber once more. She was putty and he was molding her into something pliable beneath his warm, capable hands.
But still. She wasn't a 'first date' kind of girl. And when his hand slipped inside her jeans to squeeze her ass, and her own slipped inside his shirt, fingernails scratching over silky smooth skin, she knew she needed to rein it in.
They'd gone fast enough for one night. (For one lifetime.)
"Mmm, James," she murmured, and he nipped softly on her collarbone.
"Hmm?"
"I think… I think we should slow it down," she groaned, even as she felt her hips flex involuntarily against his thigh.
He lifted his face to look into her eyes, a little drunk and hair a mess. "You okay?"
She nodded, and climbed off of him. "Yeah, I'm… I'm amazing, actually, I just –"
He shook his head and scrubbed two hands over his face. "No, yeah, I get it. Not a problem." She shot him a grateful smile.
Juliet sighed and sidled up next to James, both lying flat on their backs, staring up at the sky. A long while passed before either spoke again, both enjoying the silence and stillness of the night.
"Cats or dogs?" Juliet asked, and James turned his head to look at her. He grinned.
"Dogs. But I'm okay with both. You?"
"Cats, absolutely," she said, feigning seriousness. "Cats are superior, James."
He laughed. "Alright… Burgers or hotdogs?"
Juliet grinned wickedly. "You want me to say hotdogs, don't you?" she murmured, causing James to bellow out another laugh.
"I mean…" he trailed off, earning him a light smack in the chest.
Juliet felt lighter than air.
They went on like this for hours, eventually turning towards the snacks she'd packed in her bag, trying to toss them in the dark at one another to catch in their mouths. They talked about movies and books, embarrassing stories and their most treasured memories. They played 'Would You Rather,' alternating between horrifying choices and genuinely good ones. They laughed until the tears rolled, until their faces ached, and kissed softly until the sun began to rise over the ocean.
It was singlehandedly the best date either of them had ever been on.
"I could stay out here the whole rest 'a the day," he murmured into the top of her head as they laid on the blanket. She kissed the top of his peck through his shirt and snuggled in closer. Dawn had come, and they both knew it was time to head back. "You think maybe… maybe we could stay a little longer?" His tone was so hopeful, like the desperate pleas of a child. How could she say no to that?
She nodded, and breathed in his scent, running her hand up and down his belly. "Okay. Just a little longer."
Juliet was certainly in no hurry to leave, either. Something amazing had happened to her tonight. If she thought she might love him before, she was certain now. The rational part of her brain was screaming that it was impossible, but it was drowned out by the melody being sung from her heart, like its own siren song. There was no denying it, and she felt pretty certain James felt the same way.
She felt more whole, more seen, more… at peace, than maybe she'd ever felt before. She'd been swept up in the tide of him, and she knew she was lost forever.
She didn't mind.
Juliet waited another ten minutes before sighing miserably to herself. Wordlessly, she rose from her spot. He helped her clean up from the mess they'd made, and stuffed everything back into her backpack. Before she could sling it over her shoulders, James picked her up and twirled her around, causing a cascade of giggles to erupt. He kissed her face, over and over and over again until she placed her hands on either side of his face and stared deeply into his eyes. He lowered her to the ground, his smile falling just enough to let her know he was just as disappointed by this as she was.
Her misery was thick and painful in her chest, like tar. "When will I see you again?" she whispered, because she needed to know this wasn't going to be the last time. She needed to know that more of this awaited her, giving her something to get her through whatever came next.
"As soon as you want, baby." The word sounded so natural on her tongue, like it had been her name all along.
"Whenever it is, it won't be soon enough."
He pressed her head into his chest, wrapping his arms around her shoulder blades. "I know. I feel the same way."
The sun was now visible on the horizon line, a thin strip of burning yellow, letting them know their time was up. She needed to go.
She kissed his cheek one last time and extricated herself from his arms when he said, "Tomorrow. I'll come for you tomorrow. We'll…" he swallowed thickly and took her hand. "We'll take whatever we can, and I'll bring ya back to my side'a the island. I know it ain't much but –"
"James," she murmured, eyebrows pinching together in worry. Hadn't he heard anything she'd said about Ben?
"I know, I know," he almost moaned. "But hear me out, okay? I can keep ya hidden from him, okay? I'll protect you. My people… they'll come around. We can bring 'em supplies, shit we don't have there, and it'll be like, a peace offerin', you know?"
She nodded, more in understanding than in acceptance. She wanted, so badly, to believe in his plan, but Ben had drilled into her, time and time again, that he'd never let her go. If he found out she was in love with another man…
She couldn't think about what Ben would do.
"I'll think about it, okay? But we have time," she assured him, and squeezed his hand before letting go. It felt like tearing tendons right out of her body.
"Tomorrow," he said again, firmly but with a grin, and she looked at him once more from over her shoulder. The bright sun was glowing behind his form, making him look shining and angelic, like he was lit from within, or made from gold.
Juliet had never been religious before, but James was too precious to risk. Keep him safe, she prayed to the heavens above, and blew him one last kiss before leaving her savior behind.
—-
James slept hard when he finally got back to the beach camp, but he didn't sleep long. Oddly enough though, he didn't mind it, and a few hours turned out to be enough for him to feel rested. He couldn't wipe the shit-eating grin off his face as he tried to read his book, oceanfront views paled in comparison with how he'd spent his early morning, who he'd seen.
He was so wrapped up in his plans on how to see Juliet again - he'd said tomorrow, but now he realized how vague that had been - that he didn't hear the commotion when three unfamiliar faces walked straight into camp.
Ben was furious, but his face was blank - the illusion of calm, peaceful, benevolent. He strolled right in like he was one of them, flanked on either side by Danny and Ryan, the only people he trusted to keep him safe on this journey.
The fat one, Hugo, spotted him first. "Dude!" he shouted, and stumbled back when he saw the trio. "Jack!" he called out, and rushed to get their leader while Ben waited patiently for the calvary to assemble. He'd come to parlay; he knew he'd have to go through Jack to do so.
When Jack rounded the corner of one of the tents, face scrunched in confusion, Danny growled and cracked his knuckles, itching for a fight. He took it personally, that Jack and Kate had escaped their clutches so easily.
"What are you doing here?" Jack demanded, holding his hands out to keep everyone else back behind him. Ever the fearless leader. Ben wondered what they had all done without him, when he'd been locked up in a cage on their side of the island.
"I am here for James," Ben said, carefully, controlled, all-too-aware of what his voice sounded like when his anger bled through. Some of the few survivors clustered around Jack - Kate, Sayid, Jin, Hurley - looked confused. Ben rolled his eyes. "Sawyer. I'm here for Sawyer."
"Why?" Jack demanded, and stepped closer to Ben. Ryan tensed, and Ben held up a placating hand.
"It should come as no surprise that he's done something he shouldn't," Ben explained patiently, even through his rage.
"And what might that be?"
Ben considered the best way to answer that. He'd taken what wasn't his to take. He'd violated what wasn't his to violate. He'd overstepped, and played with something that wasn't his to play with, and now Ben was seeing red.
He'd seen them, kissing in the light of the morning sun. Juliet had tried being sneaky, avoiding most of the cameras Ben had set up around the compound. But she'd been overly confident, and she'd missed one - the one that showed the road leading to the North Point. And when Ben had awoken before dawn like he usually did, he'd seen her, practically skipping towards infidelity, and he'd done what any man in his place would have done: he'd followed her. He'd arrived just as they were saying goodbye, and if he'd have brought his gun, he would have shot James on sight.
"He crossed into my territory," Ben said with a grim smile. "And he is not welcome there."
Jack scoffed. "Yeah, well, you're not welcome here."
"What the hell is goin' on here?" James shouted, finally arriving at the confrontation, eyes wide and uncertain. Fear lanced through him, and he could only think the worst: if Ben was here, that meant he saw them; if he saw them, then what did he do to Juliet in retaliation? "What've you done with her?" he snarled, and stepped closer to Ben. He didn't care that he had an audience.
Ryan put his hand out, keeping James from coming any closer. Ben, on the other hand, smirked, unphased. "Well, well, well - nice of you to finally join us, James."
"I asked you a question," James growled, but still Ben ignored it.
"You don't have the right to know that information, James." Ben tsked. "Juliet is none of your concern."
"Like hell she is!" he growled back, and took another menacing step forward.
Chatter went up around the group, from "Who's Juliet?" to "What is he talking about?" but James tuned them all out. His eyes locked on Ben's, searching for signs of weakness. Unfortunately, he found none.
Ben glared up at him. "You really think someone like her would be into someone like you?" He scoffed. "You must be delusional. Too much direct sunlight, perhaps." An evil smile tugged up the corners of his mouth as James shifted, suddenly uneasy. "You may be considered easy on the eyes, but certainly you understand that that's all she sees in you. You lack depth, James. Substance." He paused a beat, letting his words sink in, just like he knew they would. Then he added, with a frown of sympathy aimed at James, "Your father made a huge mistake, in my opinion… he really should have shot you too."
James wasn't thinking. He snapped, and the resounding crunch from his fist flying into Ben's face was sickening in the silence. A gasp went up amongst those who'd heard what Ben had said, and then James doubled over from the punch Ryan had thrown into his gut, not even a second later.
He coughed, spitting into the sand, and then rose up again, ready to tackle Ben to the ground. But Ben was grinning wildly, wiping away a spot of blood from his mouth. "She is mine - you understand me? You are not to go near her again. If I so much as catch even a glimpse of you anywhere close to our territory, you will be shot. Do you understand me?"
James lunged again, but Sayid held him back. He squirmed and struggled against his ironclad grip, but it did no good. So he spat at Ben, and snarled, "She don't belong to no one. And if you harm so much as a hair on her golden fuckin' head, then I'm takin' you to hell with me. That's a goddamn promise."
The click of a loaded gun drew James's attention, but he hardly cared. His breathing was ragged and he was being pulled almost violently backwards, making it hard to keep his balance.
"Everyone shut the hell up!" Danny roared, and pointed his gun at James.
"Easy, Danny," Ben ordered, and Danny obediently lowered the gun, contempt etched into his face. Ben was having far too much fun now that he had the upper hand.
James felt himself spiraling, and he hated himself for it. Everything Ben said was probably true, and doubt attacked his confidence like a dangerous poison, killing him from the inside out. He was trash. And Juliet was too good for him. Maybe… maybe what they'd had, maybe it was a fluke. Maybe she just needed time to see that. After everything he'd admitted to her, maybe it would all sink in, in time.
But no. He steeled his resolve, remembering the look on her face when she'd said goodbye to him, just hours ago. She hadn't wanted to. He knew that like he knew the smell of the ocean behind him, or the taste of the bitter wine that still lingered on his palate.
She wanted him. Just like he wanted her. This was just a mind game, one Ben thought he'd won, by the smug look on his face.
He may not understand it, and he may not believe it, but it was true. Juliet loved him. And… he loved her.
He loved her.
He wasn't going anywhere.
His body relaxed, and little by little, Sayid lessened his grip. "I'm good," he murmured, and Sayid finally let go.
"Sawyer, what is he talking about?" Sayid asked.
"Yeah – who is Juliet?" Hurley echoed.
Sawyer grinned, simply from the sound of her name. Juliet. "She's his prisoner," James said, angling his head towards Ben. "She ain't one 'a them." He flipped his hair back, watching the way Ben's face contorted at his words. He clearly did not like being challenged, or made to look like a fool.
James wanted to kill him for what he'd done to her. But that wasn't what she'd want. He knew that. So he crossed his arms across his chest, as if creating a physical barrier to contain his wrath, and narrowed his eyes at Ben, who looked confused by James's lack of violence. Hurting him would do no good. He was no diplomat, but he had to have faith that they could end this amicably. She'd want him to try.
He felt the change in the air before he saw Jack's gun, aimed at Ben's chest. "Whoa whoa whoa, Doc!" he shouted, and held his hands out. Danny's gun swiveled to Jack.
Jack was shaking his head, eyes blazing with fury. "You held us captive," he said to Ben, voice so even it was almost unhinged. "How many people's lives have you ruined, Ben? Hmm?" He took a step forward, and Danny shouted for him to stop. Ben, hands held up in surrender, looked bored. "How long is this stupid war going to last, Ben! I am sick and tired of your people persecuting us, terrorizing us. We have done NOTHING to you!" he screamed, and shook his gun in frustration.
The group froze, not knowing what to do. "Put the gun down, Jack," Sayid coaxed, but Jack's face was contorted, his willingness to listen long gone. He was barely holding it together, and every one of them knew he was dangerous.
Jack huffed a short, derisive laugh. "If I kill you, it ends," he said simply, and cocked his gun. His finger hovered lightly over the trigger, but still Ben seemed unphased. "Whatever Sawyer's done, whatever we've done – it doesn't matter. This needs to end, Benjamin. I am their leader. It's my responsibility to put an end to this."
Ben tsked, looking like he was half-tempted to roll his eyes. "So, what, Jack? Are you going to shoot me? Murder me in cold blood? Completely ignore your oath? Your sacred vow?" He waited, and Jack said nothing. "Didn't think so."
Everything happened so fast, James wasn't sure what to think. One second, it seemed like Jack was lowering his gun, but then, he raised it again as high and straight and controlled as he'd been before, and a shot rang out.
But Ben didn't crumple. Sayid had tackled Jack into the sand, and Danny growled at Jack's dismayed face. He'd tried to shoot Jack. If it hadn't been for Sayid, he wouldn't have missed.
The war had truly begun.
Kate and Hurley stepped back. Jin lunged at Ryan, and Sayid helped Jack clamber up from the ground. As if it were happening in slow motion, James saw Danny raise his gun again, but he was too slow. James rammed his shoulder into the man's gut, and they both went down just as another shot rang out.
He'd been afraid this would happen.
No no no no no, he thought, even as Danny's fist collided with his face. He scrambled for purchase and used his weight as leverage to roll Danny back into the sand. He hit as hard as he could until the man was moaning. He didn't know what was happening around him - he only heard the chaos, smelled the blood.
Danny headbutted James, who fell off of him like a sack of potatoes. The man rose, coughing and spitting blood into the sand. He raised his gun, and Sawyer grabbed his legs, pulling him back to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the gun and they rolled through the sand, both tugging with all their might, trying to wrench control away from their opponent.
Danny got it, and took aim up at James. James ducked, and the loud crack caused his ears to ring.
He heard a thud. Followed by a scream.
Distracted, he looked behind him. Ryan used the opportunity to pull Danny to his feet, and two more shots rang out, aimed at them. Both missed, and the two men took off into the jungle.
Ben was nowhere to be seen.
James rose, dizzy and spitting blood into the sand. Jack was lying on the ground, Kate huddled over him. She was wailing. The sound made him nauseous.
Time slowed down. He heard shouting. It was like his feet were moving through molasses as he stepped forward. He began to shake all over. Surely Jack was fine? Surely, it was just a minor wound and someone could patch him up. Surely, everything hadn't changed in the blink of an eye.
He moaned when he finally got to Jack's feet. His eyes were closed, and his entire chest was the color of crimson.
He looked up at Jin who was sneering at him. Sayid was putting pressure on the wound, barking orders to the crowd that had gathered. They were on one side, he was on the other. Even Hurley, crying softly to himself, looked at him with such contempt, James's knees buckled.
"I didn't –" he tried to say, but the sound was drowned out by Kate screaming Jack's name. She was begging him to wake up, her lamentation like salt in his already-gaping wound.
This was all his fault. Ben wouldn't have come here if it wasn't for him. Ben wouldn't have even found them together this morning if he hadn't asked for just a few more minutes. If he hadn't been so desperate to keep her close to him.
He'd been selfish, and look where that had gotten him.
The doc was probably dead. He looked ashen, and he still wasn't moving.
This was all his goddamn fault.
James turned and ran towards his tent, packing everything he could fit into the backpack in the corner. It was still packed from what Juliet had given him, but he threw in some of his clothes until it was filled to the brim.
He should have killed Ben. Fuck pacificism – he should have fucking done it.
But then… Danny still would have retaliated, wouldn't he? But James would be the one dead instead of Jack. Everyone would have preferred that – he contributed nothing to their group, never had.
But Juliet… where would that leave her, if he was dead? (He wasn't used to thinking about anyone other than himself.)
It didn't matter – what-ifs were pointless now. He couldn't stay here a moment longer, so he tucked his gun into the back of his jeans and hauled ass into the forest to follow Ben's trail, faster and faster until the chaos he'd left behind was no longer ringing in his ears.
He should have fucking killed him when he had the chance.
And if there was one thing James was great at, it was revenge.
—-
James ducked and weaved through the dense jungle. Branches swatted at his face and the backpack bounced heavily against his back. He'd ditch it, knowing it was only slowing him down, but he needed those supplies. They might be all he'd have for a while.
He couldn't help but think of the Marshal. Of Frank Duckett. Men he'd killed, regardless of his internal validation.
He was a killer. He should have killed Ben when he had the chance. He knew this now, even though he'd hesitated once. (He wouldn't hesitate again.)
He just wanted this to end. He'd do whatever it took, to see that through. To keep her safe.
He wasn't much of a tracker, but people leave a messy trail when they're in a hurry, and these guys were. But then James hit a fork in the road. One trail, to the west, looked like a herd of rhinos went through it. But the other one… The only sign anyone had been there at all was a half footprint in the dirt, heading north.
James paused, considering. Ben left before Danny and Ryan did. It would seem, James's instincts told him, that Ben had gone a different route than his cronies.
Eyes narrowing in determination, James took the north route. And yet, he was still surprised when he found Ben alone, sitting on a log, staring into nothingness. He skidded to a stop, coming up short.
Ben only looked up at him with mild disinterest. His default expression, it seemed. "James," he said in a familiar greeting, like they were old friends. As if Ben hadn't just started a war that was going to get people killed – that likely already had.
James refused to picture Jack's pale face. He refused. He refused, he refused, he refused.
Because the doc was alive. He had to be.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" James growled, and dropped his backpack on the ground. He rolled up his sleeves from where they'd come undone. He was positively itching to kick Ben's ass into next Friday, and his hands shook with adrenaline.
Ben's gaze narrowed to a fine point. "I told you. She's mine. You crossed a line."
Despite himself, James laughed. "You're a crazy little freak, you know that? She hates your fuckin' guts." He pulled the gun from his jeans and aimed it at Ben. "And if you say she's yours one more time, I'm gonna put this bullet through your thick skull, ya got me?"
Ben didn't even flinch. "What's stopping you from just doing it now, hmm? It's just you and me out here."
James gripped the gun harder, his face contorted into a deep scowl. "Where's the fun in that?" he murmured back, and Ben shot him a soft, almost sympathetic little smile.
He didn't believe James would do it. And frankly… now that he was here, and his finger was poised over the trigger, and his heart was pumping so fast he felt nauseous, and the sweat was dripping into his eyes… Oh god… James wasn't sure he could do it, either.
No no no, he moaned to himself, and readjusted his sweaty grip. Fuck fuck fuck!
"Are you going to do it or what?" Ben asked, and took a small step closer to James. "I'm surprised you can even hold a gun, James. Considering you know first-hand the damage it can do." Another step. "Though, this isn't your first rodeo, is it?"
James didn't know what to do. Why had he come this way? Why was he even out here?
What would happen when Juliet found out he was a killer?
Ben lunged for the gun and James pulled back, but Ben's grip was strong, and he pulled too hard. James's finger was already in position.
A shot rang out.
Ben's eyes widened before he looked down at himself, at the crimson blood seeping from a wound in his chest. James reared back, hands flying up as if the cops had already surrounded him.
No no no no no!
Ben hit the earth, pale eyes unseeing, staring up at the sky.
And without another glance, James scooped up his bag and broke out into a run.
Ben had been trying to get his gun. He'd been reaching for it, sensing James's distraction.
It hadn't been James's fault.
(But he'd been the one to pull the trigger.)
What would Juliet think?
He needed to get to her, and fast. It wasn't safe at either camp anymore. Things were devolving quickly, and James had no idea what was going to happen next.
The Others will retaliate, when they find Ben.
The beach camp doesn't know Ben's dead, but they will want justice for Jack.
This was one whole big fucking unsolvable mess, and his precious Juliet was at the center of it all.
—-
Juliet was lying in a hammock, one foot hovering just slightly above the ground. She used her big toe to sway herself back and forth, more relaxed than she'd felt in years.
The night she'd had… it had been magical. There was no other word for it. They'd connected in a way that felt like a storybook to her, something she truly only ever read about in works of fiction, and it had made it difficult to fall asleep this morning, despite her exhaustion.
He'd kissed her. And god, he'd smelled so good, felt so warm, and made her laugh, and –
"Well howdy, Julie," came Tom's voice, cutting into her daydream. She opened her eyes and looked up at him standing over her, using one hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
"Hi, Tom."
"You look happy," he said with a grin, just on the edge of teasing her for it.
She couldn't help it. She grinned back. Because it was true, wasn't it? She was happy. Thinking about James made her happier than she'd been in so long.
"I –" she started to say, but the walkie on Tom's belt crackled to life. Someone shouted his name, sounding urgent.
Tom frowned and picked up the walkie. He held up one finger to Juliet, indicating they weren't done with their conversation, and she sat up, planting both feet on the ground.
Whoever it was, the voice kept breaking up, cut through with too much static. She couldn't understand them, and by Tom's confused face, neither could he.
"Say that again?" he asked, and held the walkie close to his ear. He stepped away from her a few paces, concentrating.
With the walkie pressed up to Tom's ear, and the chatter of people enjoying a beautiful, late afternoon behind her, it was difficult to make out what was going on. But Tom's whole body changed. His shoulders slumped, and his hand went to rest against his eyes. He doubled over, as if in pain, and then looked around, wildly, his face a mix of confusion, fury, and pain.
Juliet caught two words: "Ben," and "dead."
If she'd have been standing, surely she would have fallen.
"Who did it, Ryan?" Tom roared, and some of the people walking by stopped in their tracks, distracted by the distraught man. Tom was always positive, always cheerful. She'd never seen him like this.
Juliet held her breath until her chest was pained and her head felt woozy. But she couldn't breathe, couldn't function. If this news was true… what had happened?
Her thoughts hopped around so fast in her mind, it gave her whiplash. Her brain felt like the inside of a pinball machine, never staying on one thought too long.
Is it true?
Is James okay?
God she hoped it was true.
What happened?
How should she act – hurt, surprised? Could she show her joy, her relief, her jubilance?
…Is she finally free?
She stood on shaking legs, looking like a baby deer as she slowly approached Tom from behind.
"We got one of them!" Ryan roared, and she could hear the pain there.
One of them?
Oh god.
Juliet gripped Tom for balance, otherwise her legs would give out from underneath her. She felt frantic and scared and reeling from shock. Had James…?
No. She wouldn't – she couldn't - think like that. No no no no no.
But she didn't understand what was happening! Someone killed Ben? And either Ryan or Danny killed one of them in return? Ben wasn't a physical person. He was manipulative, sure. But was he capable of overpowering anyone quickly enough to kill them?
(Was James?)
Juliet wasn't sure.
What if he'd taken what she'd said last night, and used it as a reason to kill Ben? What if they'd killed each other? It would be her fault. This whole thing… this whole war was all her fault.
"Tom…?" she asked, and Tom looked at her with tears in his big eyes. Despite the warm temperature, Juliet shivered. He was barely keeping it together.
Time stood still. Ryan got close enough for his message to come through clearly. He said they'd found Ben in the jungle, near the survivor's beach camp. Said that Ben had missed their rendezvous, and they'd gone back for him. Found him dead from a gunshot wound to the chest.
Juliet thought she might vomit, standing here having to listen to this. But she had to know. One way or another, she had to know.
"Who killed Ben?" she breathed, and the words felt wrong on her tongue. "Who else is dead?"
Tom opened his mouth, perhaps to answer her, or reassure her, she wasn't sure. Two more people carrying walkies rounded the corner in a hurry, headed towards Tom.
"Ben's dead?" someone asked behind her. Adam. She hadn't even known he was there.
His words echoed, and someone dropped their bike on its side to run over to them.
It was pandemonium. The news was spreading like wildfire, devouring people's lovely day in its path. Some cried, some grabbed their guns from their homes, as if ready to go on a crusade in Ben's name.
Juliet couldn't breathe. This was devolving, and fast, and she still didn't know if James was alive. So, she braced herself, snatched Tom's walkie out of his hand, and with every ounce of authority she could muster, she spoke into the device. "Who did you kill from their camp?"
Silence. As if Ryan was debating whether or not to tell her. Someone nearby started barking orders, telling everyone to go inside, to remain indoors until further notice. Tom tried to take the walkie back, but she yanked it away and held it up to her mouth again. "Answer me!" she demanded.
Static, then, "Their leader."
Juliet's heart somersaulted, and skyrocketed into her throat.
James was okay. For as far as she knew, he was okay.
(It was almost ironic, she couldn't help but think. An eye for an eye. Leader for a leader. Perhaps one of the other survivors had been the one to kill Ben.)
Which meant he was likely out there, looking for her. Or was he back at the beach with his people? Mourning their loss, and thinking of her?
She wanted to find him. She had to find him.
But then Ryan's voice came out over the walkie again, dripping with scorn. "That hillbilly dipshit Sawyer killed him, I'm sure of it."
Juliet's hand went slack, and Tom snatched back the walkie. "How do you know?"
Ryan cursed in response, and mumbled something before saying, "Ben was goading him. About Juliet."
Her heart took a nosedive, right down into her stomach, where it flopped around like a fish out of water. Her entire body began to tremble, and Tom narrowed his gaze at her. "What's he talking about Julie?" Tom asked, slowly, accusingly.
Ben knew. He knew about them. Oh god.
"We'll be back in an hour or two with Ben's body," Ryan said, diverting the subject. "Then we'll need to regroup. Tell everyone to meet us in the rec room, and I mean everyone!"
Tom took two steps back, away from Juliet. As if she were contaminated. As if he couldn't stand to be in her presence for a second longer. "Understood," he mumbled into the walkie, and turned and headed for the security station. He was likely going to make an announcement, calling for everyone's attention over the loudspeaker.
Juliet's feet were moving before she even considered her next step. She could barely process what had just happened. All she knew now is they were gunning for James. If Ryan suspected him, whether it was true or not, they were going to want revenge.
She needed to find him, and fast. And if he was in fact planning on coming for her, she had a pretty good idea where he'd go first. She doubted he'd risk coming straight here, not in broad daylight. Not after what he'd done.
Half of her wanted to grab her bag and haul ass across the island, gunning straight for him. But the tactical part of her brain said otherwise. That choice would get them both killed, as no doubt Ben's henchmen would hunt her down until they found her. No. She needed to stay put, in her house, to prove she wasn't a threat. That she wasn't guilty, that she hadn't done something wrong. (Because she hadn't. Not really. She'd merely fallen in love with a stranger from the wrong side of the island, and since when was loving someone ever wrong?)
She needed to be careful. She had to find a way to balance what she wanted with the smarter thing to do. She needed to keep them both alive.
First, she needed to find Karl. It wouldn't be long before Tom came knocking at her door, and she needed to get her message out. Karl was fast; he could make it back before anyone noticed he was gone. She'd have to sit through the meeting, feign grief along with everyone else. She had to play it cool; needed to keep her roiling, conflicting emotions bottled up until she got the chance to talk to James.
(How could she feel both relief and joy at Ben's death, and gut-wrenching guilt and horror at the same time?!)
But Juliet knew James would come, if she asked. She simply had to wait. Surely, he would tell her he had a plan. He'd tell her that everything was going to be okay. He'd tell her his side of what happened, that he hadn't killed someone on her behalf, in an attempt to save her.
Because as much as she'd fantasized about Ben dying in a myriad of happy accidents, hopefully freeing her from the prison he'd put her in, she hadn't actually wanted him to be murdered, let alone by someone she loved.
This wasn't what she'd meant, when she'd imagined Death swooping in to save her.
Juliet needed to know that James hadn't done this on purpose, for her. (Murder was murder, despite heroic intentions.)
If she were being honest, she wasn't sure what she'd do, if it turned out he had.
She just hoped and prayed that that was a bridge she'd never have to cross.