Live Together, Die Alone (PG-13) Jate, Suliet...

[GTF]

Chapter Listing
Part 1: Cause and Effect
Part 2: Storm Surge
Part 3: Probability

Live Together, Die Alone

Disclaimer: I don't have anything to do with LOST or the ownership of it's characters.

Rating: PG-13

Opening Notes: Needless to say the season finale was interesting at the very least. I was surprised that the island just vanished like that and it certainly left a lot of unanswered questions which is the main motivation for this fic. At this time it’s going to be a hard call on any character pairings. I can promise both Jate and Suliet as of now along with who knows what else. This story picks up exactly where the season finale left off (AKA: Spoilers) so all your favourite characters will be involved. Other than that, I am not going to say much more about it as I really don’t want to give anything away. Though I will point out that the terms in bold at the beginning of each chapter will offer slight clues to some of the plot twists.

I have enough chapters written now that I can post one every week. (I would post sooner but I have two other fics to adhere to and a hell of a lot of downtime in university .) I do hope you enjoy this and I will ask if you wouldn’t mind dropping me a review every now and again lol.
Cheers.
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ONE: “Cause and Effect”

Relativity of Simultaneity — two events happening in two different locations that occur simultaneously to one observer, may occur at different times to another observer.

“They’re coming back,” Bernard insisted stubbornly. He let his arms fall across his chest and offered a pointed look toward the island. “They’re coming back and we’re all going home.”

Rose’s expression was doubtful but she patted his shoulder and bobbed her head in a slight nod, providing assurance that the others would not dare break.

The sun was starting to set, bathing the survivors of flight 815 in wide arc of pale orange and heliotrope swirls that flickered under the powerful glare of the sea.

Sawyer was standing near the water’s edge, scanning the sky for the last faint wisps of smoke from the smouldering freighter...nothing. All that could be seen was a wide expanse of blue.

“It’s no use, they’re gone,” Juliet whispered, biting back the urge to curse under her breath as she shook her head contemptuously.

“It’s over.” Her voice was thick from the copious amounts of Dharma branded rum that was coursing through her system, and riddled with disappointment.

Sawyer continued to stare. He waited a moment before taking up a deliberately cheery tone. “Now hang on just a moment there Doc-ette, I’m sure they got off the boat before it blew up. Hell, I’ll bet they’re halfway back to the mainland by now and then they’ll send a chopper back fer us. You know the Doc, he’s probably on the phone with search and rescue as we speak.”

Juliet smiled at him sadly but looked grateful all the same. “You should talk to them.”

He turned to face her having no idea what she was talking about. “Excuse me?”

She extended her finger to where the small group was huddled under the awning of the kitchen area. Miles was still munching on his can of peanuts with Rose looking bitter and Daniel and Charlotte lingering off to one side. The physicist had come sauntering back to the beach, dripping wet with his shell-shocked group of survivors and a busted zodiac raft.

“They’re going to need a new leader,” she said simply.

Sawyer scoffed and shook his head. “Yer all out of luck Princess, I left my stethoscope with my other pair of jeans and I sure as hell ain’t cut’n my hair.”

“I’m not asking you to be Jack.” She laughed slightly and took another swig from the bottle. “But they do need someone to guide them.”

“And it ain’t me.” He gave her a sarcastic look. Pausing, his face twisted and he let out a short puff of air.

The breeze from the sea was making everything around them feel cooler in the decaying half-light. Juliet watched him lumber away from her with a mild curiosity, waiting until he was out of sight to flop back down in the sand, allowing the waves to tumble at her feet.

“This is bad...very bad.” Daniel Faraday was rambling and flipping through his notes. “Do you have any idea what that flash was?”

Charlotte tilted her head to one side and watched him point to a section of eligible scrawl on the yellowing pages. He was muttering something under his breath and looked around wide-eyed.

“At least there doesn’t seem to be any collateral damage,” he concluded, giving a little nod and hesitating. “That we know of anyway.”

“Daniel, what exactly...”

“The secondary protocol. It got everything within a five mile radius of the island.” He cut her off. The eccentric glint in his eyes warned her not to ask questions—at least not the type she wanted answered with any degree of speed.

“Air temperature seems okay, quite normal actually...no superconduction. Everything’s surprisingly stable.” He reached over his shoulder with the palm of his hand and felt around the face of an outcrop of rocks they were sitting by.

“Fantastic,” he beamed. “We made it in one piece with no adverse effects.”

Charlotte knew she was going to kick herself for asking. “Made it where exactly?”

He glanced up at her, opening his mouth but then closing it as Bernard walked passed. Sighing, he shook his head and directed his attention back to his notes with a frown.

“Don’t worry about it. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he offered.

Charlotte seemed satisfied with this and issued him a slight smile.

November 25, 2007—Los Angeles

It was late, but Kate was still up, propped against overstuffed pillows as she stared at the phone with a numbing gaze. Every inch of her was still trembling in the eerie wedge of light that trickled in from the lamp in the hall. She tore her eyes away from it long enough to issue a fleeting glance at the window before shifting the covers under her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to sleep...but she was having trouble drifting off. The day was taxing enough with Aaron, bursting with energy even after three trips to the park and a Junior Polliwog swimming lesson at the local pool. His sandy blond hair fell messily in his eyes as he made a sloppy attempt at a doggy paddle with a large ring of floats strapped along his back...yet he beamed up at her, as proud as could be.

Afterwards, she had taken him out for ice cream to celebrate his good work, but it only seemed to add to the problem. He practically raced around the house when they got back, dipping and diving into the hallway and across the stairs, pretending he was an airplane. His playful innocence helped to bring a gentle smile to her face but it was short-lived and faded after he had settled in for the night.

She folded some laundry and puttered around the kitchen for a little bit to give her hands something to do. When the phone rang she was already tense and unwilling to deal with the sound of Jack, drunk and broken on the other end. He had succeeded in filling her message manager with slurred ramblings that made little sense but hit her with an intense desperation that kept him constantly at the back of her mind. She decided to appease him...one last time, and called Veronica who was grateful for the overtime.

Kate was both angry and shaken when she returned to the house. Veronica seemed unsettled and left promptly, leaving her to nurse her unease. Jack was at his very worst and completely unbearable. How dare he selfishly suggest that they go back? It wasn’t fair to his nephew...to her son. She rubbed the bridge of her nose; her head was still reeling from the nightmare.

Claire seemed so...angry. But she was the one who had left; she was the one who abandoned him. No, Kate decided, taking in a wary breath. Aaron was her son now, regardless of blood and she was never going to leave him...ever.

Suddenly, she head a car pull into the driveway and slid off the bed to look out the window. The next door neighbours had two teenage sons who felt the need to throw twenty-four hour door-crashers when their parents were away. Kate wasn’t surprised to see several over-indulged youth languidly making their way up across the driveway to greet the pizza boy who had pulled into the wrong house. She shook her head and closed the blinds, barely having time to whip around when she felt something cold and hard graze the back of her neck.

“Damn woman, we’ve been waiting here half the night.” Hibbs grabbed her by the forearms to keep her limp body from falling forward. Sighing, he moved her back to the bed and holstered his 9mm in the waistband of his jeans.

“This would have been so much easier if you just went to sleep,” he growled. The set of his jaw tightened as he heard the party-goers issue an elated scream from outside.

“Scott, get the kid we don’t have much time.”

The barrel-chested man nodded, shouldering his way out of the doorway and into Aaron’s room. The boy looked at him sleepy-eyed as he tilted his head and sized up the intruder.

“Who are you and where’s Mommy?” he whispered as he rubbed his face. Scott gulped and before Aaron could untangle himself from the sheets the man grabbed him around the waist and pulled him up off his feet, holding him against his chest.

The boy gasped with fear, thrashing and wriggling frantically in an attempt to get away.

“Kid, it’s okay.” Scott was breathless, trying to move down the hall with the extra weight in his arms.

Terror struck Aaron as he noticed the other man at the foot of the stairs looking tense in his black leather jacket. He opened his mouth to scream but a hand clamped over his face. He bit it...hard.

“Son of a bitch!” hissed the thug as he faltered, stumbling into the wall, chipping away at the plaster.

“Jesus, Scott, you can’t handle one damn kid?” Hibbs clamped both his arms around Aaron’s stomach and restrained him against his chest.

The boy continued to wriggle and squirm but this man was stronger and intimidated him enough to keep quiet.

“Mommy,” he hiccupped, arching backward to catch a glimpse of his mother’s bedroom.

Scott rushed to the front of the house. Thankfully, everything was quiet and he waved to the driver of a black, Ford van parked down the road.

Aaron couldn’t help it, he was crying hysterically as he hit the back of the van. Both backseats had been taken out leaving only empty space and musty smelling carpet. Hibbs and Scott sat by either side of him on the floor.

“Can’t you shut that kid up?” The driver glanced back through the rear-view mirror and then checked the sides to make sure they weren’t being perused.

It was Hibbs who offered a sympathetic smile to the boy whose wrists were tied tightly in front of him and his ankles bound together.

“Listen kid...uh Aaron. We’re just taking you somewhere safe. It’s okay, but can you try to be a little quieter, you’re upsetting the driver.” He tried calmly.

This only proceeded in making Aaron cry harder and wail as he twisted around on the floor. “I want my Mommy! I want to go home and I want Wilbur.”

“The damn stuffed whale,” Scott grunted at Hibbs’s questioning glance.

“We’ll get you another stuffed whale...hell, we’ll get you a stuffed dinosaur if you’re good and stay quiet.” Hibbs offered.

Aaron didn’t relent and the driver sighed. “Gag him. It’s all over for us if anybody hears him.”

Scott looked reluctant as he tightened a strip of cloth across the boy’s mouth. He wasn’t sure being so harsh with him was the right approach but Hibbs nodded in approval and shifted away to look out the window.

Aaron lay on his side and sniffled as he squeezed his eyes shut. His Mommy would save him. She had to.

[GTF]

Live Together, Die Alone

TWO: "Storm Surge"

Schrödinger's Cat— In 1935 Erwin Schrödinger, in an attempt to explain the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum physics, proposed an experiment where a cat is placed into a box with a sealed vial of poison that will break open at an uncertain time. Since no one knows when or if the poison has been released, until the box is opened, the cat can be thought of as both alive and dead.

Scott and Hibbs roughly dropped the bound and gagged boy onto a makeshift cot in the backroom of an abandoned warehouse.

The room was unusual in the sense that it was bolted shut by a six-inch steel door and founded on thick concrete. The area was typically used for interrogations that needed to be initiated quickly or to encourage the payment of dues that had otherwise been forgotten about. In the case of Aaron, the men had dressed the cot in a few extra blankets and a pillow, while Hibbs had gone so far as to dump a handful of ragged stuffed toys in the middle of the floor. There was no need to spice things up any more than that, the kid would not be there long.

"I want my Mommy." He widened his mouth and blew a throat full of air out against the gag, which muffled his words. He was both mentally and physically exhausted and his tiny body trembled because of it. He knew his Mommy would hate not knowing where he was...she never let him out of her sight at the park. He hoped she was okay.

Tears slid rapidly down Aaron's face, burning into his skin. The thought of his Mommy being hurt worried him.

His unease did not go unnoticed to the two men. Hibbs looked at Scott, nodding silently when the younger man knelt down. "Listen little buddy, Aaron. We aren't going to hurt you, we'll even untie you now but you have to promise to be good. Can you do that?"

The little boy inclined his head slightly, feeling the gag being removed and the ropes loosened. He could breath properly again but did not dare move.

"Hey kiddo, would you like something to drink?"

Aaron nodded again.

"I'll right, I'll get you some juice." Hibbs strode from the room leaving Scott teetering near the farside wall. He waited for the gray haired man to shut the door before selecting a stuffed turtle from the pile and handing it to the terrified boy.

"Closest thing we got to a whale," he grunted.

Aaron reached out with both arms, cuddling the scruffy, green fabric to his chest. "I miss my Mommy and Wilbur," the boy sniffled. "He was my whale that Jack gave me. He was sorta like my Dad but he left and it made my Mom really sad. I don't wanna leave her too."

"Ah now, calm down kid...don't ya start wailing again." The thug whispered.

Hibbs brushed passed past Scott in the doorway, giving him a 'don't make friends with the boy look'. They couldn't afford it in their line of work. Someone was paying them a pretty penny to move the boy and there was no way in hell it was going to be screwed up because of emotion. This was a business and nothing more, though the con-man did feel a slight tug at his chest when he saw the boy curled up as tight as he could muster under the harsh wash of florescent light.

"Sit up Aaron so you can drink this properly," he commanded in a low tone as he sat down on the bed with the boy. His heart melted just a little when he noticed the turtle in the youth's arms.

"That used to belong to my daughter," he said softly. "It was her favourite when she was little."

Wordlessly, Aaron did what he was told and was rewarded with a plastic bottle of apple juice. Hibbs opened a straw for the boy , watching him gulp down the amber liquid.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to take it away from you."

Hibbs eventually lost interest with his efforts to start a conversation and left the room, slowly making his way down the hall where Scott and the driver were siting in a small kitchen—awaiting further instructions.

As soon as the door was shut, Aaron slowly crawled off the cot, doing his best to keep quiet as his feet hit the floor. He tiptoed to the doorway and knelt down, pressing his ear against the side of the door. Everything that he could hear was distorted into loud booming voices and harsh words that made little since by the time they reached his ears. Sighing, he looked around the room, examining it for the first time. The concrete was stained and worn with only one window embedded in the back wall, blacked out and letting in very little light.

He felt light headed as he stood back up, studying the room with a wary intensity as he clamored back to the bed. Shaking, the little boy pulled the blanket over him and trembled, but not from the cold. He wanted Wilbur, the stuffed toy always made him feel better when he was sad or alone, and he wanted his Mommy. She would know what to do. He silently wished that Jack was there too, he was a good storyteller and somehow he needed a good story right now, anything to take his mind off the stagnate, chilling room.

He wanted to go home.

Across town, Jack was drinking an amber liquid of a different kind as he drove. He pressed hard on the accelerator, feeling the wild pulse of the music beat through him when he took the turn, hard and fast. There were very few people on the road at this time of night making it easy for the bearded man to navigate the streets. He was both high and deliciously drunk, thankful that the alcohol and pills worked to numb away the emotions he felt in the funeral parlor. The combination seemed to keep him relatively immune from the rigid corpse of Jeremy Bentham that was haunting his mind. Kate's words too seemed to stand out at some point, but everything was blended into a watery haze that he wanted to forget.

His subconscious had other plans.

When his jeep screeched to a halt outside the quiet lane in front of her house, he sat for a long time. Two fingers drummed across the steering wheel, easing him into the lull of the band. He didn't have to worry anymore, he was home. He could be with Kate and Aaron and everything else could just melt away.

Staggering, Jack slumped toward the pavement when he got out, almost touching it with his nose.

"Hey mister, you okay?" One of the moderately sober party goers watched him hit the ground and cocked his head to one side.

"Hey Allan, this one's worse than Spencer," he hollered across the lawn.

Jack looked up, grunting at the boyish figure staring down at him. "You live there buddy?" Mike gestured up the driveway with his thumb.

Jack considered this for a moment, looking at the house. He didn't 'live' there, he remembered that much at least...but it was home. "Yeah," he croaked. He just wanted to go home.

"Okay then, I'll help ya. Maybe you should try and sleep it off." Mike noticed the keys in the ignition and discretely slipped them in the glove compartment. His parents had taught him to be responsible and the last thing he wanted was for the intoxicated man to hit someone. He tentatively put a hand under Jack's arms and helped him walk up the driveway at a snail's pace.

The door was open—Kate must have left it open for him. Jack drunkenly grinned, nodding to the boy as he slipped into the porch. Tackling the stairs was much harder than he ever thought possible. He cursed and thrust his way upward, leaning heavily against the wall when he finally made his way to the top. He knew the hallway like a second skin, even when he was in no condition to navigate it properly.

He shouldered his way down, pupils wide under the flood of lamplight; they did not change when he stepped into the dark bedroom where Kate was floundered on top of the covers.

"Hey," he slurred, falling to his knees before he reached the bed. With an uncoordinated tremor, Jack reached to smooth the damn mess of hair out of her face. His hand slid along her neck, memorizing the curves and the scent of shampoo on his finger tips. He stopped when he hit something, wet and sticky at the base of her hairline.

Blood.

"Kate?" He moaned, distraught as he lightly patted her face as gently as he could in his current state.

"Kate, wake up." Jack's words stuck together from the drink. He pulled her body up off the bed and tight to his chest as he fell backward from the movement but managed to cushion her from the fall. She was breathing and the jolt made her groan. Opening her eyes as she panted hard into the grubby, white strap-shirt that was stretched across his chest.

"Jack," she growled, first groggy then alarmed. Memories of the previous night came rushing back to her and she pushed him as hard as she could to get out of his examining grasp.

"Come back, you're hurt. Let me help." He managed as soberly as he possibly could. They were both on their feet with him swaying awkwardly as he had done at the airport earlier that evening.

"You can't even help yourself!" She screamed, disgusted. "Now, what have you done with my son?"

Jack blinked, heavily. "Aaron?" He sighed. "I didn't go see him...I know you wouldn't want me to."

Kate shook her head, her eyes were enraged and dangerous. She tore off down the hall with Jack staggering after her.

"Kate, you have a cut on your neck. just let me have a look, then I'll go." He tried, as soberly as possible. Her distress seemed to be taping into the more logical side of his brain, the one that told him he didn't belong here, that he didn't belong with her.

Jack heard her hit the floor before he saw her fall. Her knees just came tumbling out from under her, making a dull thud that echoed throughout the creaky house. It took him a moment to figure out why she just dropped, face contorted in an expression of pure grief that nipped him to the very core.

He looked around, Aaron's bed was empty.

His pulse pounded as he fell beside her whispering, "We gotta call the police," over and over again. He was in no shape to initiate the action, not with Kate howling and pounding into him, like a wild animal, when he wrapped his arms around her. She sobbed, heaving under the spasms that enveloped her in a cloudy fury that made her head spin. She couldn't keep up, even though he was weak, and drunk, and stoned out of his mind. She was worse off and her body just gave into the shock, falling limp against him in an exhausted surrender.

He had to call the police.

December 30, 2004—The South Pacific

It was hard to breathe. He clung on tight, pinching his eyes shut under the spray of water. The bit of plyboard he had managed to get his fingers around was a sturdy alternative to the ruddy plexiglass that he had first gotten a hold of.

It had been hours and he had done little more than float. Initially, sharp cries could be heard in the distance but the roar of the surf eventually drowned them all out. The occasional squawk of a seabird made for poor company. He hoped the tide would carry him inland but nothing could be certain. All he wanted now was to get back on dry land and get the hell home.

It was easier said then done.

His mind wandered off and on as time passed. What felt like years was probably just hours or some other indeterminate unit of measurement that he could not keep track of. He had no way of doing so. The only thing he could do was wait, and drift, and cling to the board as hard as he could. The bright orange life jacket strapped to his chest burned like a beacon in the setting sun. It was also the first thing Rose saw as she walked along the beach collecting kelp to nourish Sun's garden. Her eyes lit up, squinting under the glare of the sea.

"My world, I think there's someone out there!" She waved her hands and glanced back at the others.

"Hey!" She called to anyone who would listen. Sawyer was the first to come running with Juliet maintaining a close second.

"You see that?" She pointed.

He cursed and nodded. With a huff, he shrugged out of his flannel and dove into the ocean for the second time that day.

The tide was flowing inward making it an uphill struggle to compete against it. He set his eyes on the line of orange and aimed for that spot on the horizon. He was panting and sputtering hard under the swelling waves. When he reached the piece of board he was almost breathless and held on tight, roughly pushing the hair out of his eyes.

"Sawyer?" A voice asked in harsh English.

The rugged form of Jin-Soo Kwon was staring back at him, seemingly exhausted under the wild rush of the ocean.

[GTF]

Live Together, Die Alone

THREE: "Probability"

Novikov Self-Consistency Conjecture, — Stated simply, the Novikov consistency principle asserts that if an event exists and that would give rise to a paradox, or to any "change" to the past whatsoever, then the probability of that event happening is zero.

They were caught in a mess of cheers and elated yelps as they hit the sand. Sawyer was laying headlong, shrugging off the pats on the back and breathing hard to encourage a soothing flow of air into his lungs. He swiped the water out of his eyes, squinting from the sting of the salt. Jin was crouched against him, head hung low under the curious gaze of survivors. He looked around, frantic and uneasy.

"Give them some space." Juliet knelt down, her face was flushed but she otherwise seemed relatively sober.

"Sun." He gasped, preventing her from finishing whatever she had started to say. "Where is Sun?"

No one dared to meet his gaze. Bernard grimaced, Rose looked away and Juliet bit her lip—hard.

"Where is Sun?" He tried again. He knew those were the words he had been searching for, but was not met with reciprocity, no one wanted to, or bothered answering.

"We don't know." Someone at the back of the group admitted hastily after a long moment of awkward staring. Another nodded and the cutting remark of, "They all died," settled over the survivors. It was impossible to tell exactly who said it, but it was enough to bring everyone to silence as the last bit of hope was snuffed out of them by the bitter edge of those words.

"No." Jin shook his head, refusing to believe it. Maybe the rough English he did know was failing him. Just a misinterpretation on his part...it had to be.

"Sun. Where is she?" He was more careful to form every word this time, refusing to meet the pained expressions glaring back at him

"Hopefully help'n Jacko get us all the hell off this island." Sawyer straightened up on his haunches, startling everyone. His blonde hair fell messily in his eyes as he got to his feet, taking a small step forward.

"But we saw the freighter explode." Rose sighed, pointing to where the smoke had hung just hours ago.

"Yeah, but Jin's alive," Bernard brightened, slapping a grubby hand across the Korean man's back while he helped him stand.

"There was a bomb," the Asian stated harshly. "I couldn't get to Sun on the helicopter." He rubbed his arms, shivering under the damp spray of the sea. Rose fetched a blanket from under the awning, draping it over his shoulders. When she tried to do the same for Sawyer the southerner backed away.

"Who else was on the chopper?" She shifted her gaze to the thin line of red still left in the evening sky. Darkness was closing in fast and some of the survivors broke away from the group to light the bon fires.

Jin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remember. "Sun," he whispered. "Jack, Kate, Aaron, Sayid and Hurley."

"Did you see what happened to it?" Daniel Faraday made his way to the front of the group running one finger down the side of his scruffy chin thoughtfully.

Jin looked at him. "Flew away," he made a motion with his hands. "Then I dove into the water but I could not see it."

What he really meant was that he couldn't see Sun after he hit the water. He had swam toward the sound of the helicopter blades buzzing over head but the force of the explosion distorted his bearings and any hope of catching up. He did not see the chopper crash as Faraday knew it would have, just by applying simple principals of physics. The share force alone was enough to cause a ripple that would take down anything in the general vicinity. Daniel felt a pang of guilt for Frank and the others, shaking his head.

"No, no...no," he sighed, giving his head a little tilt. "There would never be enough fuel to make it to the mainland." His expression flooded with a wash of dark sympathy that quenched the hopeful glint that even Juliet had started to bear. Miles and Charlotte looked somewhat disheartened, flanking the physicist on either side.

"Based on the capacity of the tank and the propulsion required to carry a full load of passengers to the nearest landmass, the fuel volume would have to be twice that of what it regularly is. Even with the cross winds in their favour making a safe landing is improbable."

"Well hold up there Einstein, a minute ago you said it was impossible," Sawyer met his gaze evenly.

Faraday frowned. "No, no, because of the law of large numbers we can never be one hundred percent sure of anything, therefore nothing can be impossible...just highly improbable." The physicist wrung his hands under the sandy haired man's gaze.

"The chances of them surviving are about the same as a commercial airliner hitting a virtually un-plottable island in the south Pacific and living to tell the tale."

"So what exactly are you saying?" Bernard scratched his head only half following the conversation, he was surrounded by puzzled expression and knew that he wasn't alone. No one knew what to believe.

"That it is too difficult to determine what happened to the helicopter," Daniel shifted in the sand. He focused his attention on Charlotte who had her gaze fixed on something in the tree line. It was too dark to tell what she was looking at but the expression on her face told him it was nothing good.

Sawyer knew that the fuel tank on the chopper had been damaged but knew better than to reveal that particular detail of his trip. He held his breath, taking inventory of the battered faces scattered across the beach. Juliet watched him with an air of expectation which he returned by issuing her a sour grimace. He was almost disappointed when she did not persist to goad him, pulling herself up to give Jin a quick once over before returning to the seclusion of her tent.

They needed Jack he decided grimly, noticing how no one knew quite how to digest what was happening. They needed a leader...which wasn't him, that was the only thing he was sure of. He rubbed his forehead and broke into a crooked smile that faltered when he noticed Rose and Bernard trying to entice Jin into eating some smoked fish. The haunted look in the other man's eyes was enough to make him exhale sharply and clench his fists. He was not a leader he repeated slowly in a tired internal mantra—he was a con-man.

Maybe he could con himself into thinking otherwise.

Gritting his teeth, Sawyer cleared his throat and sauntered over to where the majority of the survivors were seated around a large bon fire, staring absently into the open flames. He watched the embers die in the up-drift, swallowed greedily by the stars overhead.

"That fire ain't damn near big enough to be seen from the sky. Ya need to pile more wood on it," he commented to anyone who would listen. A burly man in his late thirties gave him a bizarre look that Sawyer didn't bother returning.

"And someone needs to go through the medical supplies to see what the Doc left us."

He walked a little further down the beach. "Bernie, do ya mind take'n Chewie here to rustle up some more fish in the morning? We're getting low?"

The older man gawked at him for a moment but his expression resolved into a gentle smile and he nodded, watching Sawyer continue to point out little things that needed to be done in a haphazard manner.

"Why are you bothering?" A tired voice wondered behind him. The southerner whipped around on his heals regarding Juliet with a shrug. "I'm running out of decent reading material so I figure it's high time to get off this rock."

She wasn't phased and slumped to the sand at his feet. "I saw the look on your face when Faraday was talking, you know they didn't make it. There's no one coming back for us."

Sawyer grimaced, "Just keep telling yourself that, Sparks." He tilted his head and sniffed the air, watching her with a low chuckle. "I wonder what the Doc would think of you being half in the bag? I didn't take ya for the siting-around-mopey type."

"And I didn't take you as being so self-righteous," she retorted dryly. "You're giving them hope, why?"

His mouth curved into a smile. "Cause it's all we got left Sweetheart."

She seemed satisfied with his words and they sat in silence, watching the moon flicker like waves of molten silver on the violent water.

November 25, 2007—Los Angeles

Her eyes snapped open. It was dark and she tried desperately to figure out where she was. Her senses were not helping her any, she knew she was at least partly lying down and being rocked slowly back and forth at a pace that relaxed her, but she could not get her bearings.

Kate's nose wrinkled, taking in the thick scent of strong whiskey mixed with something that was vaguely familiar. She tried to push herself up but something held her down giving rise to a new outburst of panic.

"It's okay, you're okay." Jack whispered thickly, feeling her tense in his arms. An involuntary cry escaped her lips when she noticed his haggard form preventing her from standing up right. He winced and shook his head.

"Kate you're injured, you need to stay still. The police are on their way." She looked at him, wild and crazed as she struggled to free himself from him, fighting with every ounce of strength she had left.

"Where's my son Jack, where's Aaron?"

Jack wished for the first time in a long time that he was sober so he help her properly. It took all the concentration he had to keep his voice, even and level on the phone. He'd forced himself to straighten up enough to examine the wound on her neck, it wasn't deep but it made her dizzy and somewhat nauseated when she came round.

Kate was frantic, pacing back and forth, chewing on an end of stay hair and watching him with a bitter expression.

"He's gone," she breathed.

"He's gone, Jack!"

The dark haired man winced. This was her son they were talking about...his nephew. Her voice was filled with venom, sheathed in an icy panic that his drug muddled brain had trouble coping with. Neither of them were up for this, not now, not tonight.

"We'll find him Kate," he grunted, trying to stand but having little luck.

"We have to."

[barelyshocking]

Ahh I can't wait to read what happens next! I'm glad Jin is alright, I hope he is on the show. I'll be pretty disappointed if he just vanishes without an afterthought.