Act Five

A/N: I can't even believe it's taken me two months to post! I feel awful about that. But there's been a lottttt going on here. So, without further ado, here is the last act!

—-

I got tired of waiting

Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around

My faith in you was fading

Love Story, Taylor Swift

—-

Despite the low, constant thrum of fear living behind James's ribcage, he was actually starting to grow bored. He'd been waiting by the creek for some kind of sign from Juliet, but so far he hadn't heard anything but the isolating quiet from the trees. He'd finished reading his book, and was about to start the second one she'd packed for him, when he finally decided he'd had enough. He stood from his seat, propped up against a large tree, and stretched, looking around in vain.

He looked down at his watch. The hell was he supposed to do? Wait here all day?

He wished they'd spent more time this morning coming up with a plan. He felt vastly underprepared (and growing more and more impatient by the minute).

He really thought she'd send word by now. But he craned his neck, looking around, and saw no one.

Perhaps she got tied up, he thought. But he couldn't just sit here all day and wait. He'd drive himself nuts, waiting and not doing anything. Perhaps if he started heading back to Otherton, he'd run into her or the kid on the way.

(He knew chances were probably slim, but honestly, some plan was better than no plan.)

Leaving his things tucked back into his hiding place, James grabbed his canteen and set off, trying to avoid the crunching sound of dry wood under his feet. He didn't know who lurked in these woods. He knew from firsthand experience how sneaky the Others could be, so for all he knew, someone could be out there.

When he got to the treeline, he veered left until he reached the base of the hill he'd climbed the first time he'd seen her. He was dripping with sweat by the time he reached it, but he needed to see what he was walking into. He didn't dare run through the pylons until he knew what was on the other side.

But when he crested it, he saw something that caught him by surprise. He squinted, not believing his eyes.

The earth was kicked up, as if a large group of people had left in a hurry. Bikes were on their sides, discarded. The community was quiet, its former inhabitants absent. It looked like a damn ghost town.

He'd just been here. He'd just seen how busy it had been. It was jarring, to see it so empty.

And where was Juliet?

Oh god… James's stomach lurched, and he felt his feet propelling him forward, down the hill. What if something had happened? What if they'd taken her?

The explosion was too far away to knock him back, but the shock of seeing the orange bloom rise over the house knocked James down on his ass. A strangled sob clawed its way out of his throat. That had been the house he'd set his sight on.

Juliet's house had just exploded, right in front of his very eyes.

He clenched his fists, unable to stand. His legs felt like jelly as his body processed the panic flooding through him like liquid nitrogen, crystalizing his very blood, bursting through his skin.

How…? Who did this?

Had they locked her inside, before…?

James thought he might throw up. Stinging tears rushed to his eyes and he shoved his fist into his stomach in an attempt to stem the bile.

How was this possible? Had they found out about him? She'd said the meeting had gone fine!

James couldn't breathe. His face was wet, and he swallowed down big gulps of air. He couldn't wrap his mind around any of this.

Why would they do this to her?

James turned to the side and groaned, an animalistic sound clawing its way out of his body.

He slammed his fists into the dirt, over and over and over again, not noticing the rock that was slicing into the side of his hand. It was a welcomed pain - anything would be, at this point - to distract him from the grief suffocating his windpipe.

Minutes or hours passed. He wasn't sure. But eventually the tears dried up, and the blood stopped flowing. But the pressure inside his chest never lightened.

He needed to go. He couldn't stay here any longer. The smoke, still billowing from the charred husk that had been his safe haven (their safe haven) was still dark and pungent and climbing up to the sky. He could smell it now, tainting the breeze.

He didn't want to go back to the waterfall. That was their spot. He wanted to be alone, where he could pretend for just a little while that he'd never met her. Perhaps if he banished himself somewhere isolated, he wouldn't think about the way her scent still lingered on his clothing, or how the taste of her lips was still branded on his own.

He deserved to be punished. This was all his fault.

So he picked himself up without bothering to dust himself off, and trudged off without a particular place in mind.

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was, by the fact that his feet carried him to the caves. Ever since the collapse that had trapped Jack, no one dared return there, for fear of it happening again.

(James hoped it would, now.)

He found the entrance. It felt the same as Otherton had looked - abandoned. After letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he continued inside. He found a ledge unobstructed by the cave-in, and sank down onto it, curling into the fetal position.

He laid there, in the dark, his face wet yet again from the tears leaking from his eyes, feeling like he'd never get over this as long as he lived.

—-

James awoke to the sounds of feet scuffing against the stone of the cave. He sucked in a breath, eyes flying open, body tensed. When he saw a figure shimmy into the crooked entrance, he bolted upright, unsure of what to do.

It was Charlie. He paused, foot mid-stride, eyes wide at finding James in the cave. "Whoa…" he murmured, and then took another half step forward. "What're you doin' here, mate?"

"I could ask you the same question," James replied, his voice deep and craggy from disuse.

Charlie, looking reproachful, continued, "Have you been here all this time?" James shook his head.

Charlie frowned. He looked almost sheepish now. "I come up here sometimes. You know. To be alone. To think."

James grunted, "Alone. Right." He'd wanted to be alone, too. He glared in Charlie's general direction.

Charlie closed the gap between them, sitting right next to James and putting a foot up on the ledge. His other leg dangled, swinging back and forth. "We've been looking for you, Sawyer."

James shifted uncomfortably. He swallowed. "How's… how're…" He couldn't get the words out. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

Charlie nodded, face solemn. "Everyone's rightfully freaking out a bit. It's crazy, what happened… but we're figuring it out. Sayid's taken over."

James nodded. His stomach was roiling.

Charlie was quiet for a long moment, before he cleared his throat. "You, uh, you doin' alright too?"

Sawyer couldn't form words. This was the most 'not okay' he'd been in a long, long time.

And he didn't want to have this conversation right now. Not with Charlie, not with anyone.

He stood.

"Whoa, mate. Where're you going?" Charlie exclaimed, and James scrubbed a hand hard over his face.

He whirled. "I killed Ben," he admitted, and even in the dim light of the cave, James could tell Charlie paled. "Eye for an eye."

"That's… that's great, man. Yeah. I mean, the bloke deserved it, didn't he?"

James gritted his teeth and shook his head. "You ain't gettin' it," he grumbled. And how should he? How could Charlie possibly understand?

"Look, just come back with me," Charlie urged, and stood from his perch. He put his hands out, almost pleadingly. "They're - yeah, they're not happy. But you got revenge for them, right? I'm sure they'll come around eventually."

James met Charlie's gaze in the darkness. "No." He was in exile. He was meant to be alone. The last thing he wanted to do was try to make peace with the people he'd left behind; the lives he'd ruined.

(It didn't matter that Juliet had said it wasn't his fault; wasn't their fault. She was gone now.)

He turned and headed toward the exit. "You never saw me, you got that?"

"Sawyer–"

"Good luck, Charlie."

He left without another word, ducking through the cave entrance and back into the early evening brilliance of the jungle.

It dawned on him then, what he should do. What other choice did he have, really?

He needed to turn himself in.

The clarity was like a light shining through the darkness, like the last vestiges of sunlight filtering through the trees. He may not have killed her, but it was because of him that she was dead.

He needed to let the Others do whatever they wanted to him. Punish him, perhaps, for the role he'd played in the chaos of the last few days. The guilt he was drowning in wasn't enough; what he really wanted, in the tiniest depth of his soul, was to follow her into the dark.

(Maybe the Others would do him a favor and kill him on sight.)

He found his way back to the creek after it had gotten dark. It had taken him twice as long as he'd expected, due to not being able to see or collect his bearings. But he'd made it.

He passed out almost immediately upon lying down, wrapped up in a ball and using his arm as a pillow. He planned on going first thing the next morning.

In the place between sleeping and consciousness, James had another thought: what if he killed them all? What if he got revenge for her, taking out as many of her enemies as he could before someone finally took him down?

But no. Juliet wouldn't want that. And despite himself, in the very back of his mind, he knew she wouldn't want him to turn himself in, either.

But really - what else was he supposed to do?

He deserved what was coming to him.

—-

For the first time since the explosion several hours earlier, under the cover of nightfall, Alex and Karl were finally able to sneak away from the group's camp to have a private word alone. With practiced footsteps, they tiptoed away, through the trees and downwind, where their voices wouldn't carry. This wasn't the first time they'd needed to speak privately in the company of others, and they were able to communicate in glances alone until they were far enough away.

"You think Juliet's okay?" Alex whispered, running a worried hand through her tangled curls.

Karl shook his head, looking down at the dirt and leaves plastered to their shoes. "I don't know. I hope so."

Alex bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. "What if… what if her boyfriend finds out about the house? Thinks she's dead?"

"Juliet said he'd be at the creek. I'm sure she made her way there by now."

"But what if she didn't?"

Karl sighed. "Why wouldn't she? She would have, as soon as everyone was gone."

Alex began chewing on her fingernails in earnest. This had been on her mind all day. She'd been positively dying to discuss it with Karl, but they'd been watched like they were toddlers, unable to speak without eyes on them.

"Look," Karl continued, seeing the way Alex was spiraling. "We didn't run into him on the way out here. We didn't see him anywhere near her house, when the blast went off. We can't assume the worst when we don't have any evidence to suggest he saw it." He offered her a small smile before taking her hand, freeing her nails from her mouth. "He didn't need a warning. It'll be okay."

Alex relaxed, if only marginally, from his touch. "I just think, you know, that maybe someone should go check. Just to be sure."

"Who? You know it can't be us. And if we tell anyone else–"

"Richard."

Karl blanched. "Richard? Richard Alpert?"

Alex nodded. "I know it's risky, but you know he and my father never saw eye to eye. Not really." She paused, thinking it through. "I think… I think he could help us. And I think we can trust him."

"You do?"

"Do we have much of a choice?"

Karl frowned. "If you're wrong, and Richard betrays us…"

"It could get Juliet killed for real," Alex finished for him. A somber hush fell over them, and his grip on her hand tightened. "I know."

"So… You think the reward outweighs the risk?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Then… we do it. We tell him what happened, and he can be the one to go find them."

"Richard can leave without anyone questioning him. It's the only way."

"Yeah. I think you're right." Karl pulled Alex in for a hug. "I just hope we're doing the right thing."

Alex swallowed hard. "Me too."

—-

Stiff and numb, James trudged unhurriedly into Otherton village at first light the next morning. For the first time, he didn't sneak past the cameras. He didn't care who saw him. He'd have shined a spotlight on him, if he could. He even wondered if perhaps he should shout. Maybe someone had stayed behind.

But there was no one in sight. It was a ghost town. Shouting would likely get him nowhere.

James's feet brought him to the black shell of Juliet's house. It reeked of ash and smoke, the traces of her scent long since erased. He wouldn't allow himself to look inside. Couldn't stand the thought of seeing a charred lump that used to be–

No. Uh-uh. He wasn't going to go there. He couldn't.

He swallowed, not really sure what to do next. He was shit at tracking, but perhaps he could track them. It would seem the whole damn village had left in a hurry. He just didn't know where they were going. What could possibly be better than having actual fucking houses to live in?

He looked around at the quiet, deserted buildings. He walked around, threading through the houses, trying to find a place to start. But he saw no one. Nothing that told him what to do next.

Frustrated, James found himself leaning up against a neighboring house. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and then turned to kick the foundation. He inhaled sharply at the resulting pain that lanced up his leg, and hobbled a little before leaning up against the house again.

And then he saw him.

A guy wearing business casual clothing, completely out of place with typical island attire. His eyes were rimmed with black, but James couldn't tell if it was eyeliner for some reason or just thick, dark lashes. The man seemed to have come from the center of the compound; he looked incredibly out of place, walking with intention to Juliet's house.

James knew he should say something. He should pop out from his hiding place and turn himself in like he'd been planning to do. But something stopped him from doing so. The man, his face curious, was staring hard at Juliet's house. He approached it, putting his hand on one of the remaining blackened beams, and then his face contorted into a frown. He looked… furious.

With his hand still on the beam, The man uttered a sentence that shook James's very soul, making it vibrate all the way down to his toes. "Why'd you do this, Juliet?"

Juliet? Why – what? Why did she do this? That didn't make any sense.

Surely he didn't mean… No. There was no way she'd do this herself. James clenched his fists at his sides. Surely he'd meant something else. Perhaps he'd merely been asking why Juliet had gone behind Ben's back. Why she'd mingled with the likes of him, one of the Oceanic survivors. That certainly made more sense than her having burnt her own house down.

When James's eyes cut back over to the man, a different sight punched him in the gut. There was a different man there. A man who hadn't been there even a second before. A man who'd… appeared out of nowhere? But that wasn't possible… James hadn't even glanced away for longer than three seconds.

What the fuck was going on?

He was too stunned to move. So he didn't. He stood there, watching, desperate to know what the men had to say.

"Hello, Richard," the newcomer said.

"You came," Richard replied softly, matter-of-factly, upon seeing the blonde man appear beside him.

"I did," the blonde man said. He gazed sadly over at Juliet's house before moving closer to Richard.

"A shame, about this," Richard said, gesturing.

The blonde man nodded. "There are worse things."

"Like the war?"

He nodded again. "Like the war."

Richard put his hands on his hips. "I did as you asked, you know."

"I noticed."

"But Ben… well, that wasn't me."

"I know."

Richard turned to fully look at the blonde man. "They left for the temple yesterday. Once they arrive, they will stay there until further orders from you."

James felt his eyes go wide and his stomach swoop low in his belly. Orders… from the blonde man? Who the hell was he?!

"Thank you. You know how much I dislike intervening but…"

"It had to be done. Ben was going to wipe them all out. And, in his absence, his next in command would have."

The blonde man turned his attention back to Juliet's house. "She left, for the man who killed Benjamin Linus." It almost sounded like a statement rather than a question, but Richard nodded his confirmation.

"She did."

The blonde man sighed. "Shame. She had potential."

James's heart sank. Juliet had so much potential - but for what? He knew she was brilliant, and funny, and beautiful, and kind… but what had this man wanted her for? Who was he?

And, he'd confirmed, finally, that this is what Juliet had died for. She'd tried to leave, for him, and they'd killed her for it. The guilt and shame of destroying her life burned every cell in his body, making him tremble from the weight on his shoulders. He felt like Giles Corey, then. He hoped maybe more weight would finally kill him, put him out of his misery.

"She did what she had to do," Richard sighed, and James felt the tears burn his eyes. He bit down so hard on his lip he tasted blood. What she had to do? Jesus Christ. He never should have pursued this. Pursued her.

"Maybe so," the blonde man agreed. He turned to Richard. "Will you return to the temple?"

"Yes. If you'd like."

The man nodded. "I would. But first, there is something I would like for you to do." He turned and began walking, back the way Richard had come from. Richard nodded and followed him, the men speaking too low for James to hear. But it didn't matter. He'd heard enough.

The tears scalded their way down his cheeks. He turned to head back the way he came, feeling hopeless, directionless.

He thought he'd been lonely before, back before he'd met her. Now, the gaping maw of isolation inside him was eating him alive. Burning through him like acid, killing him like a swift-moving cancer.

He'd had a plan. It may not have been a good one, but it had felt right. And now – now he was too broken, too cowardly, too dejected to see it through. They were going to some temple, somewhere out of reach. They had a full day's headstart on him, and it seemed, from what he'd overheard, that they'd been ordered to stand down. It would seem his people were saved, by whatever intervention this mystery man had deemed fit.

(He should be grateful for this news, but he wasn't. He wasn't even sure he cared anymore.)

James walked until his feet were sore, and then kept walking. By nightfall, he'd found himself at the waterfall, where it had all begun. His stomach was empty, his mouth was dry and lips chapped, but none of it mattered.

Perhaps he'd arrived here so he could say goodbye to her. Perhaps, this beautiful, magical waterfall was a better resting place than the remnants of her prison. She used to come here to find solace, to be comforted. Maybe something deep inside him had wanted him to find that same peace.

He wondered if he should talk to her. He didn't believe in God or spirits or the afterlife, but if he was still enough, he thought he could still smell her scent in the breeze around him. Maybe… maybe things on the island were different. Maybe somehow, in ways James would never understand, she was here with him.

He had so many things he'd never said. So many things he'd wanted to say. But even now, he still couldn't form those three little words on his tongue. Not like it mattered though. She'd never hear it anyway.

"Juliet…" he whispered, and even that felt like too much. He never liked graves, or funerals, and it tore him up that she'd died alone, and would never have either of those things. She of all people deserved remembrance.

"I'm so sorry," he choked, and shoved his hand angrily through his hair. "You didn't deserve any of this. You –" he sputtered, and then took long, slow breaths to try to regain his footing. "Why was I ever allowed to find you? How is it possible, that someone like you threw it all away for someone like me?"

In his mind, he wondered: if there was a God, was there heaven? Was she there? If there was a God, was there a devil? Was there hell? Who would be so evil as to taunt him with her, just to take her away in a matter of days?

This is what he deserved, he knew. He'd ruined so many peoples' lives. He'd killed. He'd made terrible life choices.

But Juliet? She hadn't deserved this fate. This was all his fault.

As the sun went down, he thought about the gun in his bag.

Perhaps justice was still within reach after all.

—-

When Juliet finally came to, she realized the pounding in her ears wasn't distant drum beats. It was her own heart, steady and throbbing, still recovering from the blast that had sent her spiraling.

She looked around, rubbing the dirt crusted to her face. She saw no one. The house was still smoking, but the sky looked darker than it had earlier. How long had she been out?

Panicked, Juliet scrambled to her feet. She needed to find James before someone saw her. Hopefully they hadn't already. He'd be waiting for her, after receiving Karl's message. She didn't want him to worry.

Juliet pulled her belongings from the bushes. They weren't safe there. She'd need to stash them somewhere more inconspicuous before she left. She chose to carry everything to Amelia's house, knowing for certain that the older woman wouldn't be coming back here. Plus, it had always been comfortable for Juliet to go there. She'd been her only friend here.

When she was done, she set off to find James. She was practically vibrating with nerves and excitement. She could finally start her new life; she'd done it - she'd completed her mission. It may have been on a whim, but everything had fallen into place. If the Others thought she was dead, they wouldn't come looking for her. She and James could be together; they could finally find peace.

But when Juliet got to the waterfall where they were supposed to meet, she found no one. James was nowhere to be found. In a loud whisper, she called out for him, thinking maybe he'd be hiding nearby, but still nothing.

Not trusting that the area was indeed safe from her people, Juliet decided to search on foot.

For hours.

With every passing minute, her anxiety grew.

James wasn't here. James wasn't anywhere.

Panic surged through her body, clogging her windpipe. She didn't know what to do, where he might be. Could they have taken him? Did they find out about her ploy? But if so… wouldn't they have retrieved her from where she'd lain prone on the ground? Or worse, killed her while she was defenseless?

She stopped walking and turned around in a tight, terrified circle. Her fingers threaded worriedly through her hair. This wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Throwing caution to the wind, Juliet screamed his name.

Only silence greeted her.

She tried to breathe, to talk herself through the next steps. Breathe, Juliet. Start from the beginning. She followed the stream until she found his hiding spot. His bags were tucked under a large bush. She pulled her hair in a ponytail, directing her attention to the ground. There had to be tracks somewhere. If she could find his tracks, she could figure out where he'd gone. They could reunite, and stamp out this fear burning like a bonfire in her gut.

It took a while to find them, but when she did, she used her rudimentary skills to follow his footsteps. But… They led back the way she came. This didn't make any sense. Had they just missed each other? Had he gotten impatient, and come looking for her?

Her heart seized. What if… what if Karl never came. What if James saw the house, thought the worst, and–

She couldn't dwell on that thought. Her feet took off, sprinting back to her village. She was half-tempted to skirt the cameras, but it didn't matter now. They were gone. The cameras were likely no longer recording. And even if they were, she hardly cared. She needed to find him - now.

Juliet got back to the village long after dark. She searched and searched but there was no sign of James. She called out for him until her throat was raw, but he wasn't there. Frustrated and starving, Juliet wasn't sure what to do next. She couldn't stay at her house, for obvious reasons, so what should she do? James was still out there, somewhere, but she didn't know where. She was so tired…

Tears sprang to her eyes. Looking for him would have to wait until morning. She'd go to the waterfall and stay there, that way she'd ensure they'd cross paths eventually.

With that decided, Juliet snuck into Amelia's house. She made herself canned soup for dinner, took a shower, and crawled into bed shortly after two in the morning. Her bones were aching, but not as much as her heart.

This was supposed to be easy. She'd found the answer – the rest of her life was waiting for her, just out of reach.

She curled in a ball in Amelia's bed. She fell asleep with the hot tears still sliding down her cheeks and into the pillow below.

—-

She woke up late the next morning. It was already almost noon. Juliet swore to herself, angry for not having the foresight to set an alarm. She must have been more exhausted than she'd thought.

She scrambled out of bed, only taking the time to pee before throwing on her clothes and hiking boots and rocketing out the front door. The sky was a swirling, dark grey as storm clouds gathered overhead. As if warning her that this day was going to get much, much worse.

Swallowing hard against the bile rising in her throat, Juliet ran. She needed to get to James's hideout before the storm hit. She needed to check for more tracks, to see if he'd gone anywhere else, before they were washed away completely.

Her boots hitting the earth sent shockwave after shockwave through Juliet's bones. She hadn't run like this in so long, and she grew tired before she'd even cleared the pylons. A crack of thunder exploded above her head, and Juliet let out a frustrated sob. She wasn't going to make it.

And she was right. In a matter of minutes, the skies opened up and it began to pour. Cold, fat raindrops pelted her face, her clothes, her skin, and she was soaked in a matter of minutes. But still she ran. She was cramping, her vision dark and blurred at the edges, but soon she made it to James's hideout.

She couldn't have been prepared for what she saw. Nothing in the world would have prepared her, and even if someone had tried to warn her, she wasn't sure she'd have believed them.

There, his left cheek pressed into the mud, was James.

A wail escaped her throat, and she flung herself forward, trying to understand. "No no no no no!" she screamed, and threw herself onto his body. He was drenched, and still. The panic roiling inside her made her unable to see straight. "NO!"

She ran her hands along his body; it was cool to the touch. She angled her fingers and pressed them against his neck, searching for a pulse. She didn't find one.

She screamed again, clutching fistfulls of his shirt. She didn't understand. What the fuck had happened here?

She scanned the area. There was a gun, scattered a few feet away. The same gun that had killed Ben. She picked it up and cradled it to her chest.

Juliet looked around again, crazed and confused. She could see drag marks through the earth, as if he'd been in his shelter in the trees before crawling out into the rain. But why? What the hell was happening?

Did it matter? She didn't feel a pulse. She didn't know what to do.

But Juliet was a doctor. She did know what to do. So she rolled James over on his back, ignoring the mud and grime caked to James's head. She didn't want to see it. She was already close enough to vomiting as it was.

"Wake up!" she shouted, and started CPR. "Don't leave me, goddammit! Please!" She pumped hard on his chest, and it brought her back to that exam room in the Staff station. Those women she'd been unable to save, still and bloodied on her operating table.

Her stomach burned, begging to be emptied.

"James," Juliet cried out. "Please. Please."

Minutes passed. Nothing changed. His pulse wasn't returning.

Juliet collapsed on top of him, sobbing and shaking with the weight of this discovery. This was all her fault. She should have told him sooner. Karl must not have made it. James must have seen her house, or maybe one of her people found him and killed him for what she'd done. She didn't know. But she'd done something wrong.

Maybe she shouldn't have faked her death at all. She should have just run with him, found a place to hide. They might have made it, and even if they didn't, they'd have each other. He wouldn't have died alone.

She wailed. She'd just doomed him to the fate she'd been fearing. She'd just wanted to escape. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen. She just wanted out from under Ben's thumb.

This never should have happened. This wasn't the way their story was supposed to end.

Escape from the Others wasn't worth this. Wasn't worth losing him.

What was she supposed to do now?

Juliet clutched the gun to her chest, clinging to James with her head on his chest.

She knew.

—-

Richard searched feverishly, trying to find Juliet and James. How had Jacob known that Juliet wasn't dead, he wondered. As far as Richard knew, only Alex and Karl were informed of her plan to escape Jacob's followers. When he'd tried to ask, he'd only gotten a sly smile in return. A non-answer, as always.

And now he was supposed to find them? Jacob had given him no information, and he'd been walking around the island on what felt like a wild goose chase. All he knew was he needed to find her, and once he found her, he'd find James. Jacob had a message for them, and it was imperative that Richard relay it.

The storm made it damn near impossible to find much of anything. Despite it only being early afternoon, the clouds obstructed the sun and it felt like it was closer to midnight. He'd have to wait until he could see again before continuing. So, he found himself a narrow cave to hide out in, and waited until the storm passed.

It took over an hour, but finally the rain ceased and the sky lightened enough for Richard to see without a flashlight. It was still dark, but it was better than it had been, and he continued his search.

He couldn't believe his eyes when he finally tracked them down. The shock of finding them huddled together in a cluster of trees was more than he'd bargained for, and he staggered back, eyes wide and taking it all in.

James was hauled up onto Juliet's body, head lolling against her torso. Her legs were spread out, a gun in her hand. Her eyes were half closed, unseeing. They were both still.

It looked like she'd dragged him through the mud, from a spot by the stream to a spot where they'd be covered by the dense trees. A backpack was askew beside her, its contents half lying in the mud.

He wasn't sure why he bothered checking their pulses, but he did. He felt nothing, not even a flutter, beneath his fingers.

Richard wanted to scream. Not because of their deaths on their own, but what they represented. He'd tried telling Jacob, long ago, how power-hungry Ben had gotten. How he had no regard for Jacob's lists, or Jacob's rules, and thereby Jacob's authority.

This was senseless. Their deaths were an unnecessary byproduct of Ben's insecurities, and his ambition. He wanted to be Jacob, the leader of the island. But he wasn't. He wasn't even close.

He stood and shook his head. It began to rain again. He'd have to go get a shovel and wait until he could see before burying them.

As he walked back to the barracks, Richard thought of the people on the beach. He knew what was at stake here. He knew those people were brought here for a reason, that they needed to be helped. He knew he probably shouldn't get involved, but this had gone on long enough.

He was going to personally extend an invitation for them to live in the barracks. He needed to explain to them, once and for all, that there was no escape. No one was leaving the island. If they could come to terms with that, then they could live in the barracks. If not, then they were on their own. But at this point, given everything they'd been through… they deserved a choice, at least.

Perhaps there'd be people in the temple who'd want to move back, too. Maybe they'd come together, find a way to live in harmony. He didn't know. He only hoped. It was all he had right now.

Perhaps then, James and Juliet's deaths wouldn't have been in vain. Perhaps this coexistence would be a way to honor their memory; to show that their peoples weren't so different after all. That they, in time, could learn to live and work together. Maybe the division could be broken. Maybe the feud could finally, truly end.

Richard would bury them together. It was the least he could do. He knew they'd want that.