Lost 1. Chapter 1

Jack struggled to keep his feet over the uneven terrain. It didn't help that he couldn't see more than an impression of light or dark through the rough weave of the bag over his head. He could hear Sawyer mouthing off behind him. And the occasional sound of Tom breathing behind him.

Kate jumped at the squeal of a steel door opening. She could hear Sawyer behind her but couldn't guess where Jack was. A hand roughly pulled her forward onto a smooth surface. Sawyer stumbled into her disrupting his litany of muffled insults. The whole procession had halted. Kate could still hear the soft sounds of the jungle. She could hear the air moving through the trees, a soft buzzing croak of a far off tree frog.

Finally Tom spoke up. "Should we separate them or leave them together?" Henry glared Tom back into silence. He tapped his fingers against his pants leg and considered what option would get him what he needed.

He had earned the reputation of master genius long ago. The scientific community still argued over the possibility of achieving what he could do. So he was justifiably annoyed that against his better judgement he was being forced to show proof that his proven technique was working. The client didn't seem to care that the disruption could compromise the whole trial. And now every attempt he had made to salvage the project had ended miserably. The most humiliating being his capture by the "survivors". It had opened the door to criticism and someone had gone behind his back to get to the board.

He turned his back on Tom to consider Jack, Kate, and Sawyer. It disturbed him that he even knew them by name. He should be standing there thinking to himself "Gee, interesting note. Subjects unable to see but, Subject 441 and 510 managed to stand close together while Subject 198 has left himself standing apart." Henry frowned with disgust. If they didn't get the results he had promised it was their own fault for meddling with the process. It was the truth, but Henry also knew the reality. Any failure would mar his record and the project's financial backing would suddenly be subject to review. "Let them all to wake up together," Henry muttered. Worse than knowing the subjects' names, he was more uncomfortable that his life's work was now resting on these three personalities. Why couldn't subject 197 been the focus of this review. Look, the subject has discarded the wheelchair and now moves on his own two feet. Irrefutable results. Henry sighed proving that there was a shift in personality and tendency was difficult.

**Flashback**

The expensive Mercedes slue dangerously through the turn into the oncoming lane. Christian Shepherd cursed and yanked the steering wheel around. The wheels slid across the leaves slicking the asphalt. Christian slammed his fist into the dashboard venting his anger on the closest available target. Suddenly the wheels found purchase and the car jumped back toward the right side of the road. Fortunately, the wealthy neighborhood didn't have any traffic at three in the morning and the vehicle finished its erratic race to well kept Tudor Christian shared with his wife.

Leaving the car skewed across the drive Christian wrestled with the seat belt and flung himself out of the car. Leaving the car door open he stalked to the antique front door cursing as he struggled with his keys. Finally getting the right key in the lock he slammed through the door unconcerned that the metal handle damaged the drywall or the custom paint.

"Marilyn!" he bellowed. He continued to call for his wife as he stalked to their bedroom.

"Christian?" Marilyn stumbled drowsily from their bedroom wrapped in a cream silk robe. "What's going on?" Her brown hair was still mussed from sleep.

"What have you done," Christian hissed.

Marilyn blinked at him in a moment of confusion before frowning, "Come to bed sweetheart, I think you need the sleep." She held out her hand in entreaty.

Christian jerked back. Fumbling to retrieve something from his jacket pocket, Christian asked even louder, "What have you done!" Paper ripped as Christian tore it free to wave it in front of his wife's face.

Marilyn leaned in but all she could make out in the dim light was the Hanso corporation's logo and the smell of liquor. "Please Christian, I really can't handle an episode tonight. I'm too tired to handle anything more, so please just come to bed and we'll sort it out in the morning."

"You signed a contract… We actually have to pay them… We talked about this. I thought I made it plain that this wasn't an option."

Marilyn sighed and disappeared into the dark bedroom. Christian followed her through the bedroom and into the marble bathroom. He watched silently as she fumbled with her prescription bottle. "Our son needs help."

He stepped forward and placed the paper he held on the counter in front of her. "This isn't what he needs. I made my feelings about this perfectly clear."

Marilyn fingered the paper miserably; "This isn't about your feeling of betrayal Christian. It doesn't matter what he's done; he's still our son. This program can help..."

Christian interrupted her, "This isn't about that stunt he pulled at St. Sebastian Hospital. You and I both know he was too soft to be a surgeon. Well the public malpractice suit he opened the hospital up to has ended that career path. He'll never find anyone willing to insure him again. I warned him of the consequences."

Marylin turned to face Christian. "Our son committed professional suicide in a drastic attempt to get ours, no, your attention. We obviously underestimated the emotional devastation Sarah did in leaving him. Depression is a very serious emotional problem and our son isn't strong enough to deal with this on his own. You said to give him time, well I did and now he's gone, to who knows where." Marylin's voice dropped to a frightened whisper, "I'm afraid of what he'll do next if we don't get him help." She pushed the paper back towards Christian. "Can you really be upset? I'm entrusting my son to a program, in part, run by the one man I trust and hold above all other men, you, his father."

Christian hissed angrily and slammed his fists into the counter. "Stop being a psychologist for one moment and listen to what I'm saying without looking for an underlying message. Jack's gone! He's living his own life, a doctor without borders or something like that. He's better off; we're better off." Christian picked the paper up off the white marble and sagged against the counter. It had been a year since his son showed him what it was to stand up for what was right. A year to dwell on the example Jack had set. Tonight he had finally decided to do something about it. He had walked into Karen DeGroot's office and threatened to go public with what he knew of the clinical trials. Her answer had been a smug look and this copy of an enrollment form signed by his wife. He couldn't blame Marylin, he had kept his wife and son sheltered from the research he did for the Hanso corporation. He could never admit it was the source of his alcoholism. His mind drifted and his favorite excuse came to mind, that's why the Red Socks… He dropped his head to his hands. He was a bastard. He could only guess what they would do to his son but if this was really fate, he had been cast the role of a monster.

Marilyn watched in alarm as her husband retrieved the enrollment paper and seemed to wilt before her. "You have no idea what you have done," He whispered. She reached for him but he brushed her off and bolted for the door. "Christian?" Marilyn chased after him. Leaving the front door open Christian walked back to his car deaf to his wife's pleas. Desperate Marylin scurried in front of the car. "Where are you going?"

"There's no going back now," He shouted over the rev of the car's engine. With that the car shot back in reverse down the driveway.

Kate opened her eyes slowly. The dim light of the room registered first. She blinked once then noticed the set of green eyes staring back at her. Sawyer grinned, "Mornin freckles." Kate wrinkled her nose but couldn't help a quick smile in return. Sawyer lay on his side facing her. Testing the rope tying her wrists. Kate curled forward and quickly worked her arms past her rear end and around her legs so that they were in front of her. Sawyer watched with interest. "My, my flexible as a gymnast." He commented giving her a suggestive look. Kate rolled her eyes but the compliment made her blush.

"Roll over and I'll untie you," Kate said pushing herself up from the cement flooring. "What ever you say sweet cheeks," Sawyer said rolling over. Working on the knots Kate spotted Jack lying a few feet away. "Jack?" Kate called softly to his back but there was no response. "Guess the doc's a heavy sleeper," Sawyer grunted. Kate frowned but finished uniting Sawyer.

Sawyer rubbed his freed wrists and slowly stood. Kate held her wrists out to him expectantly. Sawyer chuckled, "Sorry, you want something from me, you know what it costs."

Kate sighed, "Stop playing around, we don't have time."

Sawyer cocked an eyebrow and looked around the strangely mirrored walls. "Looks to me like we got nothing but time."

Kate glanced at her reflection and quickly looked away disturbed that someone could be watching them at that moment. Giving up on Sawyer she moved to Jack's side. "Jack?" She touched his shoulder but there was no response. Stepping around him she crouched to untie his wrists. "Wake up Jack," it bothered her to see Jack out like this. It didn't seem natural. Although, Kate glanced at the mirrored walls again, the natural order of things seemed to have stepped out for the moment.

"Let the man sleep," Sawyer said stepping up to her and grabbing for her tied wrists. "You're going to owe me," he commented as he worked the knots free.

**Flashback**

Cassidy pretended to check her reflection in her compact. She dabbed at her lipstick and angled the mirror so she could study the man seated alone four booths behind her. Flipping it closed she slipped it back into her oversized purse. "This will work," she assured herself for the umpteenth time. Nervously she fingered the corner of a manila envelope she clutched in her lap. Leaving a few dollars on the counter for her cup of coffee, Cassidy quickly slid off her chair and walked toward the man she had spent 6 months of her life hunting down. Cassidy smiled nervously as she slid into the booth opposite the man she had identified as Gordy.

He stared back at her warily. The woman across from him wore a green top as specified so he stayed where he was. "Mia?" Cassidy confirmed with a nod. Gordy shoved his half-eaten turkey club to the side. "You the one offering money to find a guy named Sawyer?"

Cassidy leaned forward resting her elbow against the sticky table, "Yes, but I was hoping you might be open to something a little more involved. See, you and I have something in common, he screwed both of us over $600,000."

Gordy shifted uneasily in his seat. He knew what the woman was talking about. It was the last time he had seen Sawyer before his partner had split. In fact, Gordy squinted at the woman, she did look familiar. But despite losing out on his half of the 600,000 he really didn't wish his old partner any harm. To be honest he wished the lanky blond southerner was still around. The guy had liked to talk cold but when things really turned serious the guy had pulled Gordy's ass out of the fryer. A quality Gordy hadn't found to be true with his current set of companions. "Look lady, you got taken. Live and learn, right? It's just money and from what I heard you enjoyed yourself so call it even and let it go."

Cassidy shook her head vehemently no. "I thought that too until I found out that he left you too. See that's the difference, it would have been business as usual if it had been just another con, right? Think about how many years you two were partners. No, this was different. The feelings were real and that's what scared him off."

Gordy slumped back into the bench seat and stared out the window at the crowded parking lot. The woman made sense. He had wondered why Sawyer had left and figured it had been about the money. But he and Sawyer had gotten along for a long time and not once had a broad or the money rattled his partner's cage. Gordy didn't hold any ill will against the guy but life had turned harsh since losing out on his half of the 600,000. Gordy didn't have the looks to pull off the more lucrative cons. People tended to take one look at him and hide their valuables before answering the door. "It doesn't sound like revenge is what you are getting at," Gordy hedged.

Cassidy slid the manila envelope she had been carrying across the table to Gordy. "Whether he can ever openly return my feelings for him or not I just want to help him. It was never about the money, he made life interesting, he made me feel alive. But now I'm sure he's the one that needs help, not me. I met with the Hanso corporation, they have a program starting up next month that could help him confront those issues. But I need your help getting him to Australia."

Gordy frowned and slide towards the outside of the booth; "I don't know where he is. Sorry."

Cassidy dug a wad of bills from her purse and slapped them onto the table in front of him. "Please?" she begged, "I'll pay you well if that's what it takes."

Gordy squinted back at her, "I thought you only had the 600,000."

"That was the money from my husband. I have plenty more from my daddy that you haven't taken yet." Slowly Gordy's hand came up over the table and the money disappeared. After all, he thought to himself, Sawyer owed him. What did he care if Sawyer had to deal with a few awkward moments confronting an ex lover.

Sawyer sat leaning against the mirrored wall. Kate sighed and slid down the wall to sit beside him. Both of them watched Jack pace. "God dam energizer bunny's maken me dizzy," Sawyer complained. "Liked him better as sleepen beauty." Kate shrugged in response. Her stomach growled loud enough to catch Sawyer's stream of conciousness. Sawyer chuckled and watched her blush from beneath his lashes. Kate ignored Sawyer by watching Jack. Leaning in Sawyer asked, "Think St. Jack's finally gone off his rocker? Hear'n voices and what not?"

Jack suddenly stopped, both hands on his hips he glanced at Sawyer before staring up at the ceiling. "Your voice seems to be the only one constantly running through my head at the moment," he answered Sawyer.

"What are you looking for?" Kate asked looking at the spot Jack seemed to be studying.

Jack shrugged, "Nothing. Just thinking."

Kate realized she had seen him pace in the cave when he had been trying to work out a solution for Shanon's missing asthma inhaler. It had just seemed more normal in the caves, surrounded by the small supply of bandages and medicine the survivors had compiled.

"Look, there's nothing to do, so you may as well relax."

"What? Are you going to suggest another game of I never?" Kate asked.

Sawyer looked Kate in the eye. "Well I never said I love you to anyone."

Kate looked warily at Sawyer before glancing at Jack. Jack had gone back to pacing and didn't seem to be paying them any attention. "I never…"

"Uh uh," Sawyer interupted. "Don't lie on the very first question sweetheart. Doc had to have heard you say it sometime."

"What?" Kate said scrambling to her feet.

A buzzing noise interrupted the conversation and froze all three of them in place. A section of mirror slid back to reveal Tom and four of the others all armed with the tranquilizer guns.


	2. Chapter 2

Henry sat down in front of a bank of monitors. He had ordered everyone out of the room and dimmed the lights. He knew the office had already started a betting pool on how long it would take him to fail. Henry rubbed his temples; he didn't have time to ferret out the rat that was chewing at his reputation. He would just have to put up with his own staff's unfounded doubts until he was finished dealing with the problem of accelerating a test subject prematurely for results.

It wasn't fair; he had a perfect record. He had never failed to produce the desired results in a subject. But that hadn't stopped anyone from doubting him. They were all vultures he fumed. It was as if they didn't care that he was the star quarterback, they had sent him into a game someone had already rigged to fail. Sure, the treatment had its dangerous moments and drastic liability waivers were part of the enrollment paperwork. But anyone who still had alternatives wouldn't even consider treatment that came with a price tag this big.

Henry refused to fail. His gaze flicked back and forth between the monitors searching for clues. A subject was just part of a bigger social pattern. If you figured out the larger pattern and how the subject fit into that pattern you had the means to then affect the pattern there by altering the actions of the subject. He just needed to identify the triggers operating between these three to gain control. At this early stage he only needed to prove that the subject was capable of the desired personality trait. Henry just needed to illicit that first step to get everyone off his back.

The monitors were grouped in twos. Each showing a different angle of a subject cuffed to a chair sitting at a simple table. Henry rubbed his eyes before leaning forward to activate the microphone in front of him. "Ok Bea, lets start with subject 510." Propping his elbows on the table Henry huddled closer to the monitors recording Kate.

"Hi Kate, My name is Bea and I have a few questions I need to ask. We would appreciate that you be honest and forthcoming with all of your answers." The woman named Bea had changed. She now wore a white lab coat over a set of pale yellow surgical scrubs. She pulled a pen out of her front pocket and wrote a quick note into the pages of a journal.

Kate sat cuffed to her metal chair. She had already tested the metal to see if she could slip her hands free. The white walls and spare metal desk reminded her of the last time she had been in custody sitting on a chair in Sydney's police department listening to the federal agent goad her. She wondered how much if anything these people knew about her. It was surreal having lived day to day with the vague hope of rescue to suddenly fearing that they had found you out.

Bea gave Kate a reassuring smile and asked, "What can you tell me about Dr Jack Shepherd?"

"Jack," Kate blurted in confusion. It was the last thing Kate had expected to be quizzed on and the confusion showed.

"Yes," Bea gave her a sympathetic look and folded her hands politely across the journal. "He was one of the two men you were brought in with? Did he give you a different alias?" Kate didn't know what to say. She had planned to remain silent in an act of rebellion but now she was just keeping her mouth shut while she tried to catch on to what the conversation was about. Bea gave her a pitying look, "Forgive me, our records show that the three of you have spent time together. I made the assumption that there was a friendship. If the best you can do is relate a physical description that would be sufficient."

Kate fought to keep her confusion off her face, "Um, dark eyes, dark hair, tallish?" Kate finished lamely.

Bea nodded her head and took notes. "Do you know what the tattoo on his shoulder means?"

Kate stared at Bea mutely. She still didn't know where any of this was going, but she was determined not to cooperate.

"I'll take that as a no," Bea added a check mark to her page in the journal. "Has he been involved with any of the deaths that have occurred since arriving on this island?"

Kate didn't answer.

Tom yawned and leaned back against the counter of the break room waiting for the coffee to brew. He nodded to Bea as she walked in. She silently nodded back and crossed to the water cooler. The both listened to the sound of the air bubbles as the water cooler dispensed filtered water. Bea stood and took a sip from her paper cup.

"Any luck?" Tom asked.

Bea looked at him a few moments before answering. "I managed to get 510 to say something in an interrogation. She may be further along the road of rehabilitation than 198."

Tom Nodded. The coffee gurgled one last burp and the green light blinked on. Tom turned and poured coffee into his stained ceramic cup. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Bea still standing beside the water cooler watching him. Tom fiddled with a stir stick. "Have you already taken 198 to medical for his physical?"

Tom rolled his eyes. Mind your own business he thought. "I just needed some coffee first," he answered grabbing his cup and heading for the doorway.

**Flashback**

A blond woman sat at a small coffee table in a sunny mezzanine off the T1 international terminal. A small cup of coffee sat untouched in front of her. She wore a worn pair of jeans and a loose top and sneakers. Her only adornment was a pair of diamond studs in her ears. Ignoring the constant stream of travelers walking past she studied some sort of medical textbook. Absently she tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

She looked up at the sound of the chair across from her getting pulled out. A tall man with a head of distinguished grey hair sat across from her. "Hello Christian," she scowled. "I hardly recognized you without one of your expensive suits."

Christian Shepherd nodded, "Look Meg, I understand you are upset, but I finally did it."

The blond shook her head and turned back to her book. "You finally did what?"

Christian leaned forward, "I left Marylin."

Meg Littleton stared at Christian like he was insane. "A little late don't you think? It's been almost 20 years. You sort of missed out on your daughter's childhood if that's the angle you were going to work." To give him credit Christian actually looked regretful. Meg closed her book. "Look, I'm too old to play these games anymore. You should have warned me about what you were going to do. I actually cried. Jesus! I know it's been awhile, but how could you let me think you were dead?"

Christian shook his head. He reached out to take Meg's hand. "There was no other way Meg, I swear. I'm sure they were watching and I needed you to react like I was dead. Otherwise they might have come after you to get to me."

Meg pulled her hand out of his. "What did you do this time?" She cocked her head, "Besides fake your death causing all your loved ones untold grief."

"I went to Karen and threatened to go public with the clinical trials they have been running on compound 248."

"What?" Meg snatched her hand back like she had been burned. Quickly she gathered her book and purse and fled the table. Christian raced after her. "Get away from me!" Meg hissed.

"I had to." Christian begged, "You know I lost the board position at St. Sebastian, that left me full time gathering autopsy data. I couldn't take it even soused off my ass."

Meg darted through the foot traffic trying to escape. She toppled over a stack of duffel bags in her haste. Christian tried to help her up but Meg fought. Twisting away she dashed into the women's restroom. Hearing the door open behind her she quickly locked herself into a stall.

"Meg?" She heard Christian's voice call out. Careful to be quieter than the hum of the ceiling fans Meg closed the toilet lid and crawled up on it to hide. "Meg?" he called again.

She heard a stall door swing open. "Meg, I'm sorry." Another stall door shifted on its hinges. "Marylin didn't give me any choice. She… She enrolled Jack." Meg could hear the desperation in his voice. Damn him to hell, but she still loved him. She put her hand over her mouth as an extra precaution against offering him solace. Another stall door. Had she found the only deserted women's bathroom in the whole airport, Meg agonized. "With me dead, Jack would be the only family she has left. It was the only way to get her to pull Jack's enrollment out of the program."

The door to the terminal opened. Meg could hear the burst of noise it let in. She could hear someone gasp. An elderly woman cried, "Pervert! Help!" Christian cursed and the door to the terminal swung open again.

A few more minutes passed and Meg climbed down off the toilet. Cautiously she opened the stall door. Six elderly women were the only ones left in the bathroom. Quickly she made an act of washing her hands and fled the bathroom. Meg clutched her purse trying to stop herself from shaking.

Two big men escorted a shackled Kate back to the room with mirrored walls. Sawyer stood as they shoved her inside. He waited until they had closed the door behind them to step towards her. Kate looked at the metal cuffs in disgust before giving Sawyer's free hands a resentful glare. Made an attempt to escape and it didn't work?" Sawyer guessed.

Kate ignored him. "Where's Jack?" She asked.

Sawyer shrugged, "How the hell should I know. Maybe the lost boys got a clue and started to ask Jack about Jack."

Kate looked at Sawyer, "They asked you about Jack? What did you say?"

Sawyer settled back into a comfortable sitting position. "Told them about that little incident where Jack and Sayid had fun shoving bamboo under my fingernails." He wiggled his fingers for effect.

Kate frowned, "They kept asking me about how Boone and the marshal died. I think they think Jack killed them." Sawyer raised his eyebrow as if to say, "Well?" Both of them fell silent, giving the mirrored walls a wary glance.

"Did they ask you about his tattoo?" Kate whispered. It was beginning to bother her that she hadn't known the answers to the questions they had asked. Jack was dependable, good, always there to fix anything she couldn't get out of herself. Sawyer was supposed to be the bad boy, accessible and interesting because of his troubled past. Sawyer lied and she caught him at it because it was the same sort of thing she would do in the situation. Kate thought back on the personal conversations she had had with Jack. Jack didn't lie exactly. It was more that he didn't say anything. Kate turned to Sawyer, "I think he said he lost his dad."

Sawyer pushed his hair back off his face. He tried cover up his building sense of unease, "You know Freckles? It makes me feel good knowing I know more about the guy than you do."

"What do you mean?" She asked. He just gave her a smug knowing smile in return.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack struggled to keep up with the quick pace of the stair machine he had been cuffed to. His lungs burned, his back ached. He was no longer aware of the white room filled with medical equipment or the hum of the machine monitoring his pulse. He didn't even have the energy to consider the two men behind him holding cattle prods. His clothes were drenched from sweat. The salt on his skin crystallized to grit. The muscles in his legs quivered. He moved awkwardly hunched over in a vain attempt to ease a stitch in his side. He fought to keep his eyes from sliding shut in mid step. Everything he had left was focused on lifting one leg in front of the other.

There was a flutter of movement in the doorway behind Jack. One of the security orderlies put down the cattle prod and switched the step machine off. Jack stumbled to a halt. Someone released Jack's wrist and he sank to his knees. Too exhausted to resist they dragged him to the examination table on the far side of the room.

"I think that will do," a woman's voice called. She was blond with an Australian accent and an air of authority. The muscle hovering around Jack moved away to make room for her and two assistants. She waited as her assistants quickly set up a table with everything she would need to take some blood samples.

"Oh my god!" Meg thought. Quickly she held open his medical chart to cover her shock. He looked so much like Christian it took her breath away. Meg studied him covertly. She needed to find the differences to keep in mind that this was another woman's son. He was younger than his father had been when they had first met. His eyes were set a little deeper, a little more serious and soulful.

She had caught his eye at a social mixer at a medical convention. He had already developed a dependency on alcohol. She had made the mistake of thinking that he was laid back and easy going. The physical attraction had been immediate.

Meg's assistant nodded and stepped aside. Meg snapped the medical chart closed and dropped it on the exam table. She picked up his hand and turned it to expose the inside of his elbow. He had a surgeon's hand, strong, long dexterous fingers. But the palms were rougher than she remembered Christian having. And Christian had never had any calluses.

Christian set all her nerves on fire. She remembered every detail down to the velvety night air on her skin. An early morning courtesy call had woken them both up the next morning before either of them had realized where they were headed.

Meg placed a rubber tie around Jack's bicep. Her fingers looked pale in contrast to his tanned skin. She wondered if the color came from his mother or his time on the island. She brushed his warm skin with alcohol looking for a prominent vein.

A career in medicine didn't allow for long vacations in tropical locations. It hardly allowed enough time to mail the rent check let alone make use of the rented flat. Meg didn't regret her the haste. She deserved whatever form of love she could snatch. After a few hard years of professional acclaim she become well spoken of in her field and the Hanso Corporation had come courting. The job had offered her the chance to work beside Christian.

Deftly, she pierced the skin and began drawing blood. She glanced up and found his eyes watching her. He had been 6 when she first found out Christian had a child. She had never given children a second thought until Christian had shown her his son's photo. It was all so messed up, but seeing that picture, she had wanted that little boy for her own.

Meg sighed. Things would have turned out better if her daughter had had her older brother around. Holding a cotton ball against the entry point she pulled the needle out and bent his arm upwards. "He's going to be dizzy when he stands. Get him showered and fed before returning him to holding." Meg stepped back. She studied Jack's back as security dragged him from the room. She wasn't sure if it was fate or patience that had finally delivered Christian's son to her.

She wondered if her words to Christian had been true. Was 20 years too late? What did time do to obsession? She shuddered and quickly excused herself from the room.

Sawyer sat in the far corner from Kate. Despite the new shiner shadowing his right eye he looked quite satisfied with himself. He could thank his lucky stars she had been cuffed or he would have been worse off. He admired the way her anger had flushed her cheeks, made her focused rather than fearful. He contemplated moving closer to start another tussle. He had enjoyed the feel of her against him. With Kate anger was physical and immediate not some mind game. Sawyer smiled to himself, it didn't hurt that he had gotten by without giving up any of the information she wanted.

Making his mind up to test the waters Sawyer climbed to his feet. Kate's glare turned to him immediately. "Relax Cheetarah," he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Just stretching my legs." He strolled casually down the far wall and back. So far capture by the others hadn't been so bad. Finally someone had listened seriously to all his reasons why Jack made for sorry leadership. He glanced at Kate. There was no telling if or when they would be seeing Jack again. So he added his current roommate to the pro side of the list he was making. He didn't have to go hunt down fruit to eat or any of the other mundane chores that had been forced upon him by the group on the beach.

Sawyer paused. The malto meal concoction he and Kate had been served for dinner had left a lot to be desired. He would have to have a talk to room service about that. He glanced at his reflection in the mirrored walls. While he was all for mirrors in a bedroom, he didn't like the constant feeling that he was being watched. Sawyer turned and knocked on the mirror wall. "Hey Zeke? You in there?" Sawyer was just waiting for the opportunity to fulfill that promise.

A soft click was Kate and Sawyer's only warning before the door swung open. Two big men shoved Jack into the room and quickly swung the door shut. Jack shuffled the few steps to the nearest wall and slid to the ground. He sagged forward resting his head on his knees. Kate scrambled to her feet and crossed the room. Sawyer trailed behind her.

"Jack, are you ok?" Kate asked worried.

"Yep, fine," Jack mumbled. He pushed himself back into a sitting position. He studied Kate then turned to consider Sawyer.

Kate frowned. He didn't look fine. He looked pale and sort of spent. Not as bad as he had after Boon had died, but there was a similarity. Even stranger, he was completely drenched. Kate watched as a pool of water began to form on the floor around him.

Jack pointed at Sawyer, "Is that something I should worry about?" he asked commenting on the black eye.

Kate shook her head no answering for Sawyer. "It's just a black eye. He deserved it."

Sawyer smiled. Jack nodded and dropped his head back to his knees. Kate crouched in front of Jack. "Jack?"

"Its fine Kate," he mumbled without looking at her. "Just more exercise than I'm used to."

"You're soaking wet!" Kate pointed out.

"I didn't have a chance to undress before getting a shower," Jack answered. "It's just water."

Henry walked into the meeting room and tossed his stack of folders into the middle of the group seated. Silently he regarded them, fists planted on his hips. A dozen faces including Bea and Tom waited. Henry motioned towards the door, "Close that," he ordered and someone jumped to comply. Henry leaned forward planting his hands on the table top. "Where's Dr. Littleton?"

No one responded beyond a shrug.

"Fine, listen up. I know about the rumors, the betting pool. It's juvenile but fine," Henry waved his hand in emphasis. "What isn't fine is where we are on this case. I don't know how much clearer I can be, everything, the medical trials, the research, everything hinges on us making deadline with results. If we fail the Hanso Corporation will reappropriate our funds and all of us will be suddenly be unemployed. Do I have your attention yet?"

Henry slumped into an empty chair. He pointed at the folders he had dumped on the table. This data, the interview excerpts… this isn't getting the job done. We haven't even identified the issue."

The door opened interrupting Henry's frustration. Dr Littleton slipped in and took a seat. Henry looked at her hopefully. Meg shook her head regretfully. "Preliminaries on his blood work look clean. We will keep looking but it doesn't look like he has any chemicals typically perscribed for depression in his system."

Henry sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Ok, so lets start brainstorming. Has anyone run across something that could give us a marker on either depression or suicidal tendancy."

Tom shrugged, "198 wasn't real talkative in the interview, but that's normal. His answers were text book control group."

"Anything from the girl?" Henry asked pulling a folder from the pile on the table. "They act close." Bea shook her head no. Henry rubbed his temples. "Are you sure? There seemed to be an attraction between those two while I was in their hatch. That would predate any influence of paranoia caused by pulling them out of the field."

Bea shighed, "No, she honestly didn't know anything about the questions I asked. She was struggling just to find a connection between what I was asking and the person she knew. But I'm not saying there wasn't an attraction."

A young dark haired woman raised her hand tentatively for attention. "That could make sense." the girl named Alex ventured. "We know there was a divorce. We really only have the mother's version on that. What if something happened that damaged his ability to confide to a person he felt attracted to?"

Tom rolled his eyes "That's a lot of ifs. Second guessing the small amount of information we do have is just going to confuse the issue further."

Scott, a yet unidentified other leaned forward. "441 and 510 had a fight about who new more about 140."

"You mean 198 not 140." Bea corrected.

Scott shrugged, "Whatever, but it would seem that the male companion does know more about our subject than the female does." Scott paused for effect, "We might want to find out more about that divorce. I doubt mother dearest would commit to public record that her son is a switch hitter."

"Christ!" Tom muttered, "if that's on the table we might as well keep ourselves up at night wondering if he's been misdiagnosed."

Meg cocked her head to stare at the ceiling. "Ok, so he doesn't fit any of the typical behavior patterns. What are some of the atypical patterns."

"Hmm," Scott drew the sound out. "He seems a little uncomfortable being the center of attention. That's a bit atypical for some one in a leadership role."

An asian woman spoke up. "I could pull Sawyer back into a room and look into how he learned what he knows, but it seems to me we should apply a little more pressure to 198. See if those perfect answers change under pressure. We need to know if we are dealing with someone atypical or intelligent and experienced enough to have learned what the correct answers are."

Bea nodded in agreement, "I agree. We need to rule out the possibility that he has learned how to answer these types of questions before following the white rabbit down the hole. "

"Ok," Henry nodded. "Becca," he pointed at the asian woman. "find out what you can tomorrow morning. Let's get 198 up early for his conditioning. I want him good and tired for what we are about to pull on him."

Scott raised a finger, "Um, which one are we going to use to lean on 198? The guy or the girl?"

Henry frowned, "The girl unless Becca gets something conclusive on your sexual preferance theory." Henry began collecting the files he had dumped on the table and the others slowly drifted out of the conference room.


	4. Chapter 4

Meg waited outside in the hallway for Henry Gale. The rest of the team filtered past her without a glance. Henry was the last to leave as she had hoped. Meg matched his short stride and fell in beside him. "Dr. Littleton," Henry said in greeting.

"I didn't want to bring this up in front of the team," Meg said, "But Sarah has missed her second check in."

Henry stopped abruptly. He glanced up and down the hall before turning to regard Meg silently. Meg had worked with him long enough to recognize his tactic, so she waited him out. It was an odd standoff and eventually Henry nodded and spoke. "That is concerning, I know the two of you were close. But I really can't spare the manpower at the moment. Let me know if she misses the next check in and I'll deal with it then." Henry turned and walked off in the opposite direction he had been heading. Meg frowned but let him go.

Kate woke suddenly. She remained still, listening, waiting for whatever had woken her to identify itself. She lay on her side against the cool cement floor. She cracked her eyes open to find Sawyer stretched out asleep beside her. There she thought, a soft noise a few feet behind her. She waited and a few minutes later heard it again. Quietly Kate rolled onto her back to look.

It was Jack. He sat with his arms around his knees. His head bent. He shifted slightly and rubbed one hand over his upper arm as if he were cold. Kate watched him silently. "Only Jack," Kate thought. She had plenty of experience to know that waking up to find some one watching her was disturbing at best. Her father was responsible for that. The vulnerable feeling of waking up and getting a handle on the day was bad enough when you were alone. But waking up to find yourself at an instant disadvantage, someone staring at you expecting who knows what, struggling to catch up let alone gain control of the situation.

With Sawyer it was annoying. He would gloat, but something in him reminded her of herself and it felt easier to catch up. With Jack it was different. He may have had other reasons to be awake but it was obvious he was watching over them. He had moved from his original alienated spot close to the door to be close. Waking up to Jack was comfortable. His eyes weren't glued on her like she was some sort of specimen. He had yet to notice she was even awake giving her the upperhand even though she had been the one asleep.

He rubbed his arm again making the soft sound that had woken Kate up. "Jack?" she whispered. His head came up. "Still fine?" Kate asked.

"Yeah," he answered. She looked at him doubtfully. Jack shrugged, "It's taking awhile for the jeans to dry out." He pointed at the cuffs on Kate's wrists. Kate nodded. "Yeah, found out the hard way that the big guys in white… some of them have stun guns."

Jack nodded, "Add cattle prods to that list." He paused then added, "I'm sorry I got you into this Kate."

Kate rolled to face Jack. "This is your fault?" Kate tried to make it sarcastic but the humor fell flat. Jack looked away uncomfortably. Come on Jack, she thought silently. She held her breath and waited. The silence stretched and her mind began to whisper doubts. Was he thinking about how she had tried to use him to get the marshal's case back from Sawyer? How she had drugged him to sleep allowing someone to take the keys to the guns? She grimaced, how she had kissed him then run like the devil was after her? Ok, I don't really deserve a second chance she admitted to stop her mind from continuing down the list of her transgressions. That didn't stop her from wanting a second chance. Instead she clung to the moment just before Michael had stumbled out of the jungle. Jack's voice had been hoarse from hours of yelling and for a moment he had let her back in. He had confided something real and for that moment Kate had felt capable of all the more noble human intentions. Something she wouldn't have even thought to look for in herself because she already knew she was a convict and a murderer. She wanted that feeling of being strong again, especially in this horrible mirrored room they kept them hostage in.

Jack sighed and shifted to lean his head on his arm. "Sayid warned me Michael was compromised. I just… I should have taken the threat more seriously. Called the whole thing off. Why can't I… People just don't…" Jack struggled, "I shouldn't be leading."

"Why Jack?" Kate tried hoping to get him to say what he had held back. But Jack shook his head "Still think I'm responsible for everyone surviving this long?" He asked referring to what she had said to him before following Locke into the hatch. Jack didn't wait for an answer, just lay down with his back to her.

Henry bolted upright in bed. He lunged at the bedside table in a panic to turn on a light and huddled in the round glow it cast. His heart raced. He was drenched with sweat. Henry kicked away the tangled bed sheets and waited for the effects of his nightmare to pass. Stiffly, he picked his wristwatch up off the floor to check the time. 4:48 am. Henry sighed and dropped his head to his chest. Six days since his escape and he had yet to sleep a full 7 hours without nightmares from his captivity interrupting.

Henry dragged himself off the bed and into the bathroom, flipping on all the lights in his wake. He stood at the sink basin and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The cuts were all healing remarkably well. Dr. Littleton assured him there would be minimal scarring even on his shoulder. Henry unbuttoned his nightshirt and let it drop to the floor. He leaned in closer to study the tiny perfect stitches Jack Shepherd had put there. The dark cloudy bruising beneath the skin held Henry's attention. Like a poison beneath the surface or the nightmares that marred his sleep, the bad blood pooled beneath the skin. Henry took a shaky breath and stepped back from his reflection. He discounted his feeling of unease, it would all heal and he had more pressing matters to worry about.

Tom and a large orderly named Philip dragged Jack into a large interrogation room and dropped him in a chair. Jack concentrated on evening out his breathing. He had just come from another forced marathon on a stair machine and his body quivered with exhaustion. His skin burned as blood rushed to the surface to off load heat. He was drenched in sweat. The only positive angle was that he had worked out all the stiffness from sleeping on a cement floor.

Henry studied Jack's slumped form through a one way mirror before turning to the group of people gathered behind him. His eyes settled on Kate. He had hoped to catch her watching Jack but found her hard eyes focused on him. She was shackled and Bea had a tight hold on her elbow. Henry nodded and the group filed into the room with Jack. Jack straightened warily as Kate was forced into a chair across from him.

**Flashback**

Christian Shepherd's pager buzzed angrily on the bar beside him. Swallowing the last of his drink he picked it up and squinted at the message. "Dr Shepherd to neonatal intensive care." Christian frowned. Not your everyday page for a spinal surgeon. He pulled a few bills out of his wallet and left them beside the empty glass.

Christian carefully scrubbed his hands and let a nurse drape a surgical smock around him while watching the carefully orchestrated chaos erupting on the other side of the glass. Christian pushed through the doors and hesitated at the battlefield he suddenly found himself in. Dr Monroe yelled orders. A sea of nurses and trainees surged back and forth to obey. A machine in the corner gave off a high keening wail. A heart monitor beeped at a hummingbird's pace. Christian wadded into the middle of it dodging nurses as they struggled to contain the spreading stain of red.

Suddenly the body on the operating table lurched into the air. Dr Monroe cursed. Giving Shepherd an angry glare she turned back to the cesarean she was in the middle of performing. "I've got blood pressure greater than 200/100, seizures, an erratic pulse. I've treated for preeclampsia without any effect. I need you to tell me if this is Autonomic Dysreflexia."

Christian leaned forward to get a look at the machine spewing out her vitals. "Ok, let's try 15 mg. of Hydralazine and see if that helps. Pull out some Nitropaste." He pushed back out of the crowd around the operating table to take a look at the woman's medical chart. Almost three years ago there had been a substantial spinal injury.

Henry leaned heavily on Kate's shoulder, but his attention was on Jack. "It's time for a little honesty Jack. You see, I can't help you until you give me something to work with. I wish I had the time to wait you out but neither of us have that luxury. So I've invited Kate here to help." Henry stood and motioned for Philip to cuff both of Jack's wrists to the metal chair. "I'm going to ask some questions and I expect fully detailed answers. If I feel you are holding back in any way Kate here," Henry moved to grab Kate's chin but she twisted away. Henry glared at her but continued as if nothing had happened. "Her pretty face will pay the difference. Understand?" Henry turned back to Jack with a pleasant smile. Jack's response was a deadly glare. Henry raised his eyebrows and cocked his head as if listening to the silence. He smacked his lips, "Ok Jack." Henry turned and savagely back handed Kate out of her chair. Jack surged up but was thrown back into his chair by Phillip's hand on his shoulder. Bea bent to help Kate back into her chair. "So, now that we all know how serious we are. How about you tell me about your wife Sarah? Fell for your own patient didn't you? That's sort of against hospital policy wouldn't you say?" Henry waited a moment then turned toward Kate when Jack didn't immediately respond.

"Yes," Jack's answer was clipped and low. "It went against hospital policy."

Henry smiled, "Good, so you do know how to break the rules, occasionally do the wrong thing even when you know better. Tell me about the divorce, you gave her more than she even asked for. That's the act of a guilty conscious Jack. Did you cheat?"

**Flashback**

Christian stepped out of the way as a group of surgical trainees rushed the tiny underdeveloped preemie into acrib. He noted that his son had been the head surgeon for her previous spinal ingury and that there had been a full recovery despite the amount of damage. Suddenly the mother's heart monitor stuttered and the warning alarm demanded his attention. Taking charge so Dr. Monroe could see to the infant, Christian administered CPR while the nurse prepped the shock cart.

The nurse handed him the paddles and he positioned them on her chest. "Clear," he called watching to be sure everyone stepped back. The body twisted beneath the electrical current then sagged as it was released. Everyone turned to watch the heart monitor. Christian found himself counting. "Ok, round two he called," nodding to a nurse to bump up the electrical current. He turned to place the paddles back on the chest when the heart monitor hiccupped. There was another long pause and then it beeped again. "Ok, we've got a pulse so let's close her up. We need to get some pictures of her spine." Christian handed the suturing to an intern and stood back to supervise. Her heartbeat was coming steadier now and Christian glanced over to the far side of the room were Dr. Monroe was scrambling to stabalize the baby. Odds for a child this early weren't good.

He turned back to the bank of monitoring equipment. It looked like the Hydralazine was beginning to bring the blood pressure down. Christian frowned at the ekg readout. He leaned forward to double check the settings on the machine but everything looked right. He pushed his way back to the operating table to check if the sensors had come loose. Stepping behind the tented sheet to stand beside the patient's head he fingered the round sticky pads holding the sensors in place over her temples, watching the machine to see a change. Little to no brain activity, possible cerebral haemorrhaging that hadn't been caught in the midst of complications during the c –section and cardiac arrest. He should find the husband and get him started on paperwork to allow them to harvest the organs.

By chance Christian's fingers caught on the sweat matted hair just past her temple causing him to glance down. Her blond locks hung limply over the edge of the operating table. Her eyes were sunken and bruised. With a sense of dread Christian pulled back an eyelid to verify that the color blue surrounded the unresponsive pupil. Christ! It was her. His body flushed cold with the shock of recognition. Sarah with a new last name. What was he going to do?

He looked up to find the head nurse holding out a medical chart waiting for him to pronounce her clinically brain dead. Christian scratched a mark for his signature and stumbled back from the body. The loud crack of the door getting slammed open penetrated the fog that had rooted him in place. Dr. Monroe exited in a fury, cursing her way out the scrub room. Her team stood listless around an infant that should be demanding their full attention. Christian took a hesitant step towards the tiny body lying still in the intensive care crib.

He couldn't quite tell how old the dead infant was. But obviously it had taken Sarah less than four months to remarry. It was that space of four months that left Christian numb. Because there was no easy way to get four to equal nine even when you could take time off for the premature angle. From a distance he could make out perfectly formed fingers and toes. The little body was too well developed to be less than 8 months. Christian suddenly felt dizzy. He had to find a way to make four equal eight.

He checked his watch. Damn, Jack's shift had already started. He motioned a surgical intern over and shoved Sarah's medical chart into their hands. "Go talk the husband into signing the papers to donate the organs. You can scrub in if you succeed." The intern gave Christian an excited smile and hurried out of the operating room. He checked his watch again. He desperately needed a drink but he buried the urge knowing the bar would be the first place Jack or anyone would coming looking for him.


	5. Chapter 5

"Let's talk about dear old dad." Henry looked at Kate, "I know Kate would be fascinated to hear your adventures in paternal betrayal. How about you detail out how you destroyed his prestigious career, drove him to his death."

Kate shuddered as Henry gave her a knowing stare. He was baiting her even though Jack didn't know it. Her natural instinct was to stop listening, shut him out. She struggled past that to keep listening. If she tuned out Jack would essentially be on his own. He hadn't asked her for support, he hadn't even glanced at her after Henry's opening salvo. But he had kept Henry from hitting her a second time. Kate struggled to reconcile the man she knew with the questions Henry was asking. She couldn't seem to get past Jack the spinal surgeon, well educated, prestigious family, promising future.

Henry turned back to Jack. "Explain to me how is it ok for you to break hospital rules and go so far as marry a patient without any substantial repercussions but you can't look the other way for five minutes to allow your father the same courtesy." The room was utterly quiet. Jack's head was dropped refusing to meet anyone's eyes. His body tense, his wrists white where the metal cuffs cut into his skin. Small drops of blood peppered the floor on either side of his chair.

"Unh unh, Don't check out on me Jack," Henry reprimanded, "Kate wouldn't like that." Jack didn't move, didn't blink. Kate could hardly make out the rise and fall of his breathing. Someone behind Kate cleared their throat nervously. Henry moved to Kate's side but his eyes were still on Jack. "You want me to hit her again? Would that make you feel better?" Henry waited a few more seconds in silence then nodded. He pulled back his arm but hesitated at the hoarse sound of Jack's voice. "The difference? He… My father's actions cost lives."

Henry winked at Kate, then spun back to Jack with a chuckle. "And yours didn't? Is that what you tell yourself or do you honestly believe you had nothing to do with Sarah's pregnancy?" Henry leaned in over Jack's bent head. "You keep this perfect image of being good, honest. But everyone watch their back Mr. Nice guy has a taste for revenge. Had a mean drunk for a father and a shallow socialite for a mother didn't you." Henry hissed. "You only did what Christian Shephard taught you to do. Daddy's perfect little boy. Tell me, how perfect are you Jack? Did daddy ever…"

Jack's head snapped up catching Henry's chin with a crack. Henry stumbled back in pain his tounge bleeding. Jack returned Henry's hateful glare defiantly. Henry wiped at his lip and stared at the blood. He cursed in sudden fury. "Doesn't feel so good when you are on the receiving end, does it?" Henry yelled. He spun towards Kate desperate to lash out, then made a snap decision. Before anyone could move to react Henry mule kicked Jack in the chest sending the chair toppling backward into the wall. He lunged after it in a rage.

Chaos erupted. Bea pulled Kate out of her chair and pushed her toward the far wall. All of the others surged forward blocking Kate's view. Phillip and Tom leaped to intervene. Everyone started yelling. A blond woman dressed as a doctor appeared in front of Kate. She grabbed Kate's chin and tilted it toward the light. She let go and shoved Kate into the heavy arms of a security orderly before Kate thought to jerk her head away. "Take her to exam room 3," the woman snapped before turning to push her way towards the overturned chair Jack was still cuffed to.


	6. Chapter 6

Sawyer whistled in appreciation as his pert little Asian interrogator opened the metal door to allow a metal food cart to be pushed into the room. The smell alone sent a shiver of extasy down his back. It made his belly growl and his mouth salivate. Food truly was the way to a man's heart, especially when the man was on a strict diet of runny protein mush and couldn't remember past the island's usual fare of fruit and fish. The Asian, Brenda, popped a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Sawyer gave Brenda his sexiest smile as she turned to hand the stem wear to Sawyer's free hand. Sawyer raised the glass in salute before taking a long sip. Brenda blushed and turned back to the cart to retrieve a large covered plate.

Henry burst through the metal door stopping abruptly to avoid colliding with Brenda and the food cart. Henry frowned then stepped around Brenda to sit across from Sawyer. Sawyer sat back in his chair studying Henry's slightly ruffled appearance. Brenda set heaping plates of real mashed potatos, steak, and french cut green beans in front of both of them.

Sawyer held up his other arm as far as the handcuff would allow. "Don't this come off now that I've seen the light and joined your little following?"

Henry gave him a wane smile. "Not until you deliver what you say you can." Henry picked up his fork and knife. "We wouldn't want to develop any habits that might tip off your mark and blow your cover." He pulled Sawyer's plate toward him and quickly cut the steak like a parent does for a small child. "And signing an afidavit on Jack's actions since coming to the island is only half of what we need from you." Sawyer frowned as his plate was shoved back in front of him. His steak chopped and prodded and cut into ridiculously small sized bites. Henry took a sip of wine. "How about we discuss how you think you can get Jack to act for the good of the group against his own emotional needs." Sawyer sighed and picked up his fork. It was still better than the runny stuff they were serving back in the holding room.

Meg lingered at the supply cabinet as her assistant left to check out the woman waiting in exam room #3. Slowly she turned to study the profile of the man lying sedated on the exam table. Two cracked ribs seemed to be the worst of it. She had wrapped his chest to give his ribcage some extra support. There wasn't much more she could do. Meg double-checked that the room had cleared before stepping to his side.

Nude from the waist up there was no mistaking him for Christian. Christian would never have gotten a tattoo. She brushed her fingertips lightly across Jack's skin, tracing the Asian characters tattooed on his shoulder. She wondered what they meant. Were they a form of rebellion? A bid for attention? Christian was quite verbal about his feelings on tattoos and peircings. A thinly veiled act of self mutilation were the words he had used. He was the kind of surgeon that marveled at the balance and form of a healthy human body. Any artists attempt to mark that ideal form came off as clumsy in comparison. She knew because she had once brought the subject up to him.

The sound of the exam room door opening made Meg turn. Her assistant dragged subject 510 into the room. "Can you watch her? Tom's late and I'm desprate to use the bathroom." Quickly flipping a key from his pocket Meg's assistant loosed one of Kate's wrists from the handcuffs and snapped the free cuff around a handicap rail bolted on the wall beside the door. Thanks he called as he rushed from the room.

Kate glanced quickly around the room before settling on the exam table. She watched the blond doctor turn her attention back to Jack. Kate allowed herself a few frightened seconds staring at Jack's motionless hand strapped down against the table. She figured she didn't have time for a full five count so she cut it short at three and turned to study the handrail she was cuffed to. Using her free hand to muffle the metal against metal she slid the cuff over to study how the handrail was attached to the wall.

Kate had begun to test the bolts when Meg's voice caught her attention. "Do you know what these mean?" Kate looked up quickly but was relieved to find the doctor's attention still on Jack. Meg stepped to the side so Kate could see the tattoos she was asking about. Meg glanced at her but Kate shook her head no in answer. Meg smiled to herself and turned back to address Jack. "Your father's going to have a heart attack when he finds out about these tattoos."

Kate frowned. There was something rather unprofessional about the way the doctor's fingers seemed to linger on Jack's shoulder. She wasn't sure what was really going on but she had an urge to disrupt the woman's focus. So Kate responded, "I don't think a heart attack is going to be a problem."

"Hmm?" Meg responded dreamily, lost in a memory.

So Kate tried again, "His father is dead."

Meg turned at that and studdied Kate before glancing back down at Jack. "That bastrd," She said softly. "His own son." Meg sighed then stepped away to face Kate. She motioned towards Jack, "Cracked ribs, painful, but not terribly life threatening on their own. He'll be out for another half hour." Kate nodded and waited. Meg smiled hopefully, "I was hoping you could tell me something about a woman named Libby. Um, petite, blond…" Meg stopped at the look on Kate's face. "What? Is she ok?"

The mention of Libby blind sided Kate. An image of Hurley's distraught face seemed to lodge itself in front of her. The shock of his loss worn openly on his face for all to see. She remembered what that felt like as freshly as that last moment when Tom had lain dead beside her. The feeling of his warmth slowly dissipating. Kate looked away blinking back tears. The crippling mind numbing fear quickly swelling up, threatening to drown her. Instinctively she looked at Jack, marking the slow rise and fall of his breathing. She couldn't seem to find her way clear on most issues between the two of them. But then her issues clouded most things in life. Instead she clung to the one truth that had proven itself time and again. Regardless of the situation, if Jack was ok, she would be too. So she watched his bandaged chest and it's rythm calmed her. "Libby was shot when Henry escaped."

Meg went pale. "What happened?" she whispered.

Kate looked away. "You should ask Henry. He was there."

**Flashback**

It was dusk. The sun had dipped behind the closest mountain ridge highlighting the sky in golden hues, casting a diffused light into the valley. The heat index was so high the air hissed with steam. The heavy rain forest vegetation drooped like cooked greens and everything dripped from the high humidity. Jack wiped his face against the sleeve on his upper arm then held his hand out. A smaller weathered brown hand slapped a wrench into the waiting palm. Jack nodded and dug into the oily innards of the old truck. Aung leaned forward to watch Jack fight a corroded bolt. Giving the wrench one last frustrated groan Jack gave up on finesse. Holding his hand out for another wrench Jack used it to start hammering at the first wrench.

Aung tutted nervously at the clanging noise giving the dark jungle a worried glance. He shook his head and grabbed Jack's arm to stop him. Aung knew the jungle was unsafe. A family had been found dead a few miles east of the clinic. He was eager to get the truck running again but the noise was sure to bring unwanted attention.

Jack sighed and let Aung wave him away. He pulled his canteen out of the cabin of the truck and watched Aung climb beneath the hood into the engine compartment. Aung's English wasn't very good but he had an uncanny knack to understand what Jack needed done. The reverberating drone of insects was quickly gaining strength. Jack swatted at the cloud of mosquitoes that had begun to collect around him. Twighlight was the worst time to be caught outside. Jack leaned into the truck to roll up the windows before too many insects could collect.

Glancing into the trees he caught a glimpse of jade and the sparkle of light reflecting off water. Walking to the back of the truck he rummaged through the crates of new medical supplies until he found a plastic sample cup and lid still sealed in plastic. He checked on Aung, pointing to communicate that he intended to get a water sample from the river.

Timber bamboo crowded the rivers edge. It creaked and rattled like a huge wind chime. Its tiny leaves flashing in the breeze like schools of minnows. Jack waded out between the huge poles until he could feel the current begin to pull at his pant legs. He tore open the plastic wrapper and dipped the cup into the cool water. He tucked away the wrapping, snapped the cap on, and held the cup of water up so he could watch the sediment begin to drop.

Something large and dark moving in the current caught Jack's attention. He pushed the water sample into a pocket, grabbed a bamboo trunk, and moved to get a better look. The riverbed dropped abruptly. The bamboo roots no longer capable of holding soil against the pull of the water. Jack braced himself and watched the dark object rush away. A stump, Jack guessed.

He was about to turn when another dark lump breached. It bobbed and twisted a few times before disappearing in an under current. Jack turned to find a third one racing toward him from upstream. It collided with a bamboo trunk, caught, and began to flutter in the current like a flag. Jack climbed through the bamboo poles towards it. He was almost on top of it before he made out the pale shape of three human fingers beneath the water surface.

Beneath the hood Aung braced his short legs against the engine compartment and heaved against the wrench. The bolt gave suddenly with a soft pop sending Aung and the wrench headfirst out of the truck into the soft peat. Aung cursed and took his frustration out on the huge mosquito that settled somewhere just above his ear. The bloodsuckers were so huge he didn't need to see it to kill it. He got back to his feet and peered into the gloom under the hood. He had done it! He smiled to himself in accomplishment.

At a shout he turned to find the doctor pushing out of the underbrush carrying something dark, an ill omen. Aung frowned and quickly scanned the tree line on both sides of the jeep trail for movement. His scowl depended when it turned out to be a body the doctor clutched in his arms. Aung jumped to pull open the truck door. The sooner they were on their way the better. Climbing behind the wheel Aung shuddered to hear a raspy breath that didn't belong to he or the doctor.

It took three tries before the truck engine turned over. Each time the engine died Aung swore it was the spirits of the dead that clung to the man the doctor had pulled from the jungle. He quickly popped the clutch when the truck finally coughed to life. It lurched forward and Aung risked a glance at Jack. He was both fascinated and horrified by the battle the doctor waged to pull a life back from the world of the dead.

Night had fallen by the time they pulled up to the low cinderblock building that served as the medical clinic just outside of Beeree. Jack carried the man he had pulled from the river in and settled him on the last available cot in the main room. He checked the bandages he had applied where a finger and thumb had been missing. Cut cleanly through the joints, Jack worried about blood loss and infection from the river. He crossed to a cabinet for a pair of scissors to help him remove the man's river sodden clothing.

By the time Aung had pulled the first crate of supplies in off the truck Jack had the man cleaned and bundled in white to match the occupants of the other cots. Aung hesitated to watch until he felt the listless eyes of a patient shift his direction. He made a warding gesture and quickly slipped out the door to get another crate.

Jack sighed. He could feel the gritty salt of his own sweat chaffing his back and at the bend of his knees. His upper arms were smudged black from the grease of the truck and he could smell himself without even trying. He pushed himself up from the crate of medical supplies that he was cataloging to stretch. He was working his way through the last crate and it looked like the shipment was going to come up short by 50 units. Unfortunately, discrepancies between the shipping manifest and the actual contents was typical. Jack had learned to work with fewer resources and lower standards than he had taken for granted at St. Sabastian hospital.

The sound of an engine caught Jack's attention. He glanced around the over crowded main room. It must have been approaching midnight but the generator kept the room fairly lit. All of the cots were occupied. Many of them surrounded by family members asleep on the cement. Jack wondered where he would fit another patient.

The double screen doors burst open. Three armed men rushed in carrying a forth body. They spoke too quickly for Jack to understand. One of them rushed forward, yelling, to drag Jack toward the closest medical cot. The ill woman occupying the bed went hysterical dragging herself half off the bedding so she could clutch at Jack's hand. Jack eased her back onto the cot. He looked back at the man and struggled to use the small local vocabulary he had acquired. "Mai ao Khrap"

The man grabbed Jack by the shoulder and jerked him back leveled his gun and shot into the cot. Children began to wail. Patients meweled as their family members scrambled to help them out of their cots. The two men carrying the wounded man rushed forward. Jack could only stand in shock as the bloody carcass of the woman was kicked over the side to make room for their own man.

Jack could smell his own burning hair as the group's leader put the hot rifle muzzle to his head. He still couldn't catch any of the words the man was saying, but he understood the shove to his knees beside a wounded man. Hesitantly he reached toward the blood soaked wad of material clutched to the man's gut.

Jack moved the limp hands and bloody bundle aside and gently peeled back the torn jacket to see what looked like a couple hacks from a machete. Jack jumped at the sound of gun shots. The two men who had carried the body stood over a cot across the room watching a body gurgle and twitch. "Hey!" Jack yelled. They glanced at him then turned to the little girl huddled crying at the head of the man they had just killed. Jack didn't hear the warning from the man behind him. He couldn't tear his eyes away as the automatic weapons swung to point at the child. "No!" Jack yelled. He lunged to his feet. Pain exploded in his head. Jack collapsed, his weight catching the edge of the cot. A bed leg snapped and everything toppled sideways into a heap.

Screaming, gunshots, Jack could hear before he could see. He concentrated on suppressing the gag reflex that rushed forward as his sight began to pick up shapes. He swallowed and kept his breathing short. He floundered caught beneath a tangle of bedding and the cot's frame. In front of him was the bloody bundle he had pulled off an injured man. It had unraveled and the dull plastic of a pistol grip jutted out from the folds. Pain left no room for thought. Jack inched himself forward and wrapped his fingers around the gun. He concentrated on keeping his arm perfectly steady; blocking out the red that marred his clean white clinic.


	7. Chapter 7

Meg fished some change from her desk and headed toward the vending machines closest to the central control center. Selecting a bag of shortbread cookies Meg retrieved them from the catch basket and headed into the darkened computer room. Casually she wove her way toward a young woman staring into the light of a monitor. Popping the bag open Meg didn't have to wait long.

Sensing someone behind her, Alex quickly minimized the video feed she had been watching before glancing up. Meg tilted the bag of cookies toward her. Alex relaxed and reached in to take one without a word. It was something of a ritual between the two of them. "Thanks," Alex mumbled around the cookie. "What's up."

"What video do we have on Henry's escape from the hatch?" Meg asked.

Alex turned back to the monitor. Alex pulled a file from the correct time stamp. The video quality wasn't very good. Most of the screen was black with shadow. Meg could just make out Henry's battered form leaning back against the wall. "The battery cable for the cameras in the Swan were out until Henry was able to get into the control room to reattach them. So we don't have anything on when he got all the injuries."

Meg nodded, "I'm just looking for some evidence of gunshots around the time of his escape.

Alex hesitated, "You won't find any." She said without looking back at Meg. "It's been classified and removed," she added in a hushed whisper.

Meg offered her another cookie. "Who?" Meg asked. Alex shrugged, "When the door opened we could only see one. Subject 513."

"Has Henry said anything?" Meg asked.

Alex shook her head, "He filed a report though."

Meg sighed and dropped the bag of cookies beside the keyboard. "I need a favor. Could you post an ad for me on the central bulletin board?" Alex nodded and started typing. "I need it to say family pet needs good home ASAP. Can't be kept in current situation. Excellent breeding."

Alex nodded. "Is it a dog or cat? I should probably add that."

"It's a shepherd," Meg said with a smile. "Can you let me know if anyone responds?"

Alex sighed, "No sweat. Sorry to hear about your dog, I'd take him if I could."

Henry paced down the length of the observation wall. Like a caged animal he knew on a subcontious level exactly how many lengths to the wall and he turned to retrace his path without an outward glance. It was late. Scott had been happy to leave his shift to grant Henry his privacy. Henry paid no attention to the forms sleeping on the other side of the glass. He was absorbed with studying the broken skin over his knuckles. He scratched at a fleck of dried blood. Watching how it flaked before falling away from his skin. He poked at the swollen area just to feel the bone hidden beneath.

His mind fell back on the familiar, taking a scientific approach to categorize and classify the how and why of the event. It was easier to focus on the physical; details like his hand, and the white bandaging the man on the other side of the glass, his nightmares. It made what had happened more acceptable to disassociate himself with the details. He was paid quite a lot to solve these sorts of issues for other people. Competency blinded him to any thought that this was any different because it was his. He could even admit the evidence was classic PTSD and wasn't identifying the problem half the battle to solving it?

His physical surroundings forgotten Henry's attention was on solving the puzzle. His mind raced, questions and theories in quick fire succession. His lips moving with the thoughts. But the harder he focused the more the edges of each concept blurred. The scientific process broke down into a jumble of murmured half-understood rambling. Round and round, each moment spiraling further into confusion.

Henry jerked his head up. The sound of his voice muttering along with the unintelligible had snapped him out of the cycle. But he had to double check that he was still the only person in the room. An eerie feeling there had been other voices joining his came over him. Henry stared through the glass at Sawyer, Kate and Jack. Had they been talking and he hadn't paid attention? It was the only explanation. Henry leaned forward against the observation glass. They were doing a fair job at acting asleep. His eyes settled on Jack. An accidental cracked rib or two wasn't equal to being shot by an arrow and tortured. Deep down something stirred, Henry pulled back from the glass to keep himself from following those thoughts. He was a man of science and this was a subject that needed his help. He was the better man for taking the higher road. Henry turned to call Scott back on duty. It was past time to get some sleep. He promised himself that he would take something to keep the nightmares at bay.

Flashback

Nigel Cordry moved through the sea of dancers toward the far end of the bar, an intoxicated platinum blond on each arm. He moved with a loose gait, his body drifting lazily between his two beach bunnies. This world of warm twilight, techno, and intimate chance encounters showed him to his best. Minor disappointments like the thinning of his hair, the crooked shift of a tooth faded beneath the sparkle of the dance floor. But tonight Nigel had wandered further than he liked from the neon glow of his beloved a go-go clubs.

He glanced around the Safari in disdain. The clientele was a little more discriminating than what he frequented and the piped music was reserved as filler between live bands. He was much further from the center of Phuket nightlife than he liked, but tonight he was searching for something… er, someone rather; he corrected himself. He congratulated himself on the fancy maneuvering he had done to draw the two blondes he had hooked earlier, out to the Safari.

Nigel waved down a bartender to order a round of drinks. Tossing a fat tip onto the bar Nigel asked for a Jack Shepherd. The bartender set down their drinks and waved toward the tables set along the far wall. Nigel turned to squint through the heavy shadows for the man he was looking for. He had been by the DWB headquarters to pick up the details on his next assignment when he overheard that Shepherd was in town. Something to do with operations around Sangklaburi being shut down due to an increased threat of violence.

Jack startled as Nigel and his two girls tumbled into the empty chairs beside him. Nigel leaned forward with a big grin and reached across the table to give Jack a slap on the shoulder. "Jack! How ya been?" he slurred in greeting.

Jack didn't respond immediately. He rubbed the side of his face then let his hand drop back to his drink. His dark gaze sliding off Nigel back to his drink. "Nigel." Jack acknowledged, his voice too soft to hear over the music. The blond on Nigel's right unwrapped herself to lean against Jack. She fidgeted with a practiced pout. Nigel watched the show for a few seconds before fishing a few bills from his wallet. "How about you girls go see about another round while I have a chat with my friend here."

Nigel turned back to Jack once the girls had left. "Hey," He knocked on the table for Jack's attention. "Heard about your clinic."

"You did?" Jack asked without enthusiasm.

Nigel plucked the glass out of Jack's hand and downed the contents in one smooth swipe. "Yup, heard they shut down operations in the whole area." The ice clinked as Nigel tipped the glass with consideration. "So, when did you start drinking?"

"Nigel, not tonight," Jack said in exhaustion. He pushed his chair out in preparation to leave but Nigel's hand caught his wrist.

"Come on Jack! I haven't seen you in an age. I knew you'd be the type to take this sort of thing hard, but your boy's got just the thing to set you right." Nigel chewed his lip nervously, "Really, just what you need." Jack hesitated then leaned back in his seat.

"OK" Jack submitted. He gave Nigel a wary look. Nigel was an anathesiologist who had a taste for the drugs he had been trained to administer. It wasn't an unusual quirk for a highly trained medical professional that choose third world volunteer work rather than starting their own medical practice. Jack found himself in a similarly unemployable position after the malpractice suite at St. Sebastian. It didn't really have any bearing on the skill of their work. Jack studied Nigel's pupils trying to decide how much of a buzz he was riding.

Jack didn't feel like company. He wasn't sure what it was that he did feel. Something like a buzzing vacantness, if that were possible. Given the choice he would have been in his hotel room asleep. But sleep just seemed to focus the white noise into nightmarish detail, flashes of sound, the sharp pop of gunfire. Since Beeree he had found night better spent awake than trapped reliving a memory he had difficulty recalling.

He would have tried forgoing sleep entirely if he hadn't studied the effect of insomnia on the human body in med school. There was plenty of research, test cases where insomnia had resulted in insanity, even death and Jack wasn't quite ready to embrace that. Every night around the decent hour of ten PM Jack lay down to give sleep another try because it was what he was supposed to do. Because he needed to drive the static out of his head before it drove him crazy. And he repeated the pattern because he couldn't think of any other way back to normal.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack startled awake, grunting softly at the pain the movement caused. Kate and Sawyer sat together against a mirrored wall. They both looked his way in a suspended conversation sort of way. He turned away from their attention. He wasn't quite ready to put on a brave front and address the question of how he was feeling. At this point he was actually bemoaning the loss of the sand on the beach or the dirt of the caves. Either would have been easier on his ribcage than sleeping on the hard cement.

Kate frowned watching Jack struggle to his feet. She shifted thinking to offer her help but Sawyer grabbed her hand in restraint. "This ain't goin to work if you rush to play mother Teresa," He hissed.

"I'm not convinced it's going to work at all," She shot back. Sawyer gave her a cocky grin and pulled her hand toward him so he could lock his fingers between hers. "C'mon freckles, have a little trust in ol' St. Jack. Even Jesus had his moments of doubt."

Kate pulled her fingers free from Sawyer. He was just being Sawyer, staying true to those stripes he was so fond of quoting. She was too familiar with his act for it to inspire any true feelings of anger. What did bother her was the feeling that he hadn't filled her in on the whole plan. Something about him playing the roll of Judas seemed too easy. Kate couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't possible for the conman to get conned. Sawyer leaned closer, "C'mon, it's not like the doc ain't above making plans without filling us in. Turn about's fair play."

Kate didn't look convinced, Sawyer shrugged. Fine, as long as she stayed out of the way, what did he care if Kate believed him or not. He pushed himself up and sauntered towards Jack. "So how much longer do we have to sit here playing lab rat? I hope your plan for getting us out is better than the one that landed us in." Jack turned to face Sawyer without a word. "Hey, don't look at me. When I make secret plans they tend to work out," Sawyer baited. Jack still didn't respond. He just stood there, listing to one side, his arm clamped against his battered ribcage. Sawyer swore and stepped right up into his face. "What! Is Ralph starting to figure it out that he ain't got what it takes to lead?" Sawyer hissed.

"Hey!" Kate shoved her way between the two of them. "Cut it out!"

"How about you start tell'n us things," Sawyer demanded over Kate's head. "Tell us something, cause we got a right to know who's side we're on. Tell us cause I'm sick and tired of spending everyday admitting that I don't know anything. Damn it! Tell me something so I can at least pretend that I don't know it." Kate looked back at Jack.

He couldn't meet her eyes. He was responsible for what had happened. He had kept what he knew about Michael and Sayid's plan from them. Jack shook his head. "What Sawyer? Are you really asking to hear one of my childhood memories?" Jack surrendered. "Is that going to help?" Jack's eyes locked with Sawyer's. Jack didn't know how Sawyer had come to his conclusions about his father; at this point all that mattered was that Sawyer knew what was on the table. "Would that make you feel better?" Jack asked.

Sawyer groaned in disgust. "Ugh, listening to stories of mini me overachieving at private school ain't what I had in mind." Sawyer hedged. He glanced at Kate. It didn't matter how curious he was, the last thing he needed at the moment was for her to hear some sad sack story about the doc's abused childhood. For his plan to work he needed to alienate Jack not create sympathy for him. "Fine, Keep your secrets," he muttered.

Meg stormed into Henry's quarters without knocking. She snapped the main light switch on blasting the room with light, but the bed was empty. It didn't look like it had been slept in at all. Crossing Henry's neat bedroom she slammed her clipboard down on the flat of the bathroom door. "Henry," Meg called. "Open up, Henry!" she demanded. Meg waited but only silence answered.

She looked down at her clipboard. What was she going to do? Should she continue her search? He might have slipped past her by going to the cafeteria. Should she go check? She stood there at a complete loss. She shouldn't be interfering with a subject's routine. She wasn't in a position to rock the boat. If Jack had any of his father in him he could well take care of himself without her help. She really couldn't afford anyone noticing her interest in him.

But on the other hand she wouldn't advise this level of physical conditioning for any patient with cracked ribs. The dilemma was in deciding where to stand. Should she disregard her suspicions that Henry had let this become personal, that Henry would put a patient at risk for his own feelings of retribution? In the five years she had worked with Henry he had never let any of his work take on a personal meaning. Was it her own tangled feelings that where making her doubt her co-worker? Didn't Henry deserve her trust? Maybe she should just keep a close eye on those ribs and voice her concerns if Jack's health does begin to deteriorate.

Meg's thoughts were interrupted by the click of a lock. The bathroom door in front of her swung open. Henry took a step forward before seeing her. He gasped and jumped back stumbling in the process. They stared at each other in surprise. "What are you doing" Meg asked.

"Me?" Henry looked at her like she was crazy. "What are you doing standing around outside of my bathroom?"

"I've been looking for you," Meg answered holding up her clipboard as if it were proof.

Henry shook his head and stepped past her, "That was more than five minutes ago. You don't have anything better to do than stand around waiting to be reprogrammed when you don't accomplish something?"

Meg narrowed her eyes at the insult. "Sure, at least I'm not the one hiding. I came to let you know that today's physical conditioning for subject 198 was ill-advised."

Henry massaged his temples, his brow creased in pain. "Why? Isn't it the standard routine we've been using for the past year?"

"Our other patients were in good health," Meg pointed out. She noticed Henry's obvious discomfort.

"Ok," Henry answered. He stood in silence, "There's no time to halt the program so… just monitor the situation." He slipped on a pair of shoes and walked towards the door. "Let me know if you have concerns," he said on his way out.

Meg looked around uncomfortably. Hadn't she just come to him with a concern? It was a little odd that he had just walked out, closing the door, dismissing her to stand alone when these were his private quarters. She glanced around the tidy room. Should she count herself lucky he hadn't turned the lights off on his way out?

Tom pulled Kate into an exam room by the arm. He wasn't supposed to be on duty at the moment but Bea had stopped by the locker room to inform him that the afternoon shift was short. Technically, he wasn't supposed to touch the subjects unless necessary. But she had been dragging her feet all morning long and dawdling is what had landed him a double shift. He didn't want to wait and see what else could catch up with him.

Kate let herself get pulled along until Tom stepped in to her to push the door closed behind them. She waited until he leaned over to swing her leg back, knocking his heel out from under him while shifting his weight backward. Tom landed flat on his back gasping like a fish. Kate darted forward twisting his keys free from his belt. She dashed for the door. Tom hooked his leg sending Kate stumbling, clutching at the door handle to keep her feet. Twisting the knob she yanked open the door but Tom kicked it closed. She kicked at his leg but it didn't budge. She quickly glanced around the room.

Tom struggled to his knees and dove at her as she jumped back. He cursed as he hit a line of cabinets. Kate hit the ground and rolled. Tom looked up at her, "Don't do this girlie. It won't end well for you." Kate spotted the cuff used for taking some one's blood pressure and edged toward it. Tom sighed and pushed against the cabinets to help him up. Kate leapt for the cuff pulling it and the rubber tube attached free from the wall. She faced off Tom. He frowned at the blood pressure cuff; this was rapidly getting out of his control. He hesitated debating whether to sound an alarm. He really didn't want anyone knowing a girl half his weight had given him the slip.

The moment of distraction cost him. Kate jumped forward twisting the rubber tubing around his right arm. She spun under his arm twisting it with her and stepped behind him. Tom growled in frustration. Kate applied pressure and pinned him against the examining table.

Both of them were breathing hard. Kate caught movement of his free arm and wrenched harder on the one twisted behind his back. "Ok!" Tom panted. He held his free arm up in surrender. To his embarrassment he allowed Kate to bind his hands behind his back with the rubber tubing of the blood pressure cuff. It was a gamble, but with both wrists tied together he knew she wouldn't have his arm in the correct position to use as leverage. She was quick. She had him tied faster than he could pull himself up from the exam table. He kicked like a mule and sent her crashing into a trash bin. Someone tried the exam room door. "Why is this door locked?" Kate could hear the muffled voice. Tom looked at the door in confusion. When had she had time to lock it? Kate didn't bother wasting time pulling herself up from the dented trashcan. Quickly she worked at pulling keys off Tom's key ring. The door swung open and two large security officers rushed in with their dart guns. Kate went down with one shot.

Sawyer was alone in the mirrored room they were being held in sleeping off one hell of a pot roast dinner when they dragged Kate in unconscious. Sawyer waited until they were alone to approach. Crouching, he put his palm to her face, studying the rapidly bruising scuff along her cheekbone. "Hey Dorothy, this ain't no time to be napping in the poppies." Sawyer coaxed, "Wake up, come on." He tried giving her a light slap to no effect. She was out cold. He sighed and sat down beside her to wait.

Jack was beginning to lose weight, he moved stiffly having to overcompensate with his left in an attempt to minimize movement along his right. His brow creased in pain but he didn't make a sound. Meg sighed and made a note to have a nurse recheck his weight and take blood for another round of tests. He had been treading water for a little over an hour. Meg, three security orderlies and Henry stood along the edge of the lap pool waiting. Henry had lost interest in the stopwatch ticking away in his hand. His eyes had wandered off into space. The orderlies leaned against their rescue hooks watching for the moment the subject either tried to rest by floating on his back or exhaustion won out.

Meg moved toward Henry. He looked at her with an unfocused gaze. "So far so good." Meg said softly, glancing at Jack. Henry nodded without a word. "He seems to be progressing well, how's the therapy?" She tried. Ever since that morning in Henry's bedroom conversation between the two of them had been minimalistic. Henry didn't answer, he just continued to stare at the ripples in the water caused by Jack's movement. Meg glanced at him from the corner of her eye. It was slight, but Henry seemed to be bobbing. Almost as if he were listening to something. Meg turned her head to look. Henry glanced at her then looked away. "Yep, looks like the guy is going to live," he said without emotion. "Not quite as fragile as they look," he mumbled.

Meg looked back at Jack. Yep, there it was, out of the corner of her eye, he bobbed. Meg frowned. The silence stretched. She tried not to stare. "Um," she floundered, "One of the subjects told me about the sooting when you escaped. Why didn't you tell me Sarah Watros had been shot with Anna Lucia when I asked you about her?"

Henry sighed and dropped his eyes to study the stopwatch, "Sarah knew the dangers of going undercover. It was her choice. I can't afford you or anyone else on the team losing their focus." He finally met her eyes. "Our battle here is also one of life or death." Meg refused to back down. "Who will be sent out to take Sarah's place? Right now those patients are out there with no one to care for them."

Henry shook his head, "One thing at a time. Besides, it won't matter, we're finished if we can't teach this pony a new trick." Meg glanced at Jack. She didn't like the idea of her daughter and grandson out there on their own.


	9. Chapter 9

100 degrees read the thermometer. Meg sighed unhappily. What a day for Jack to start running a fever. Meg turned and found herself eye to eye with him. Damn those intense Shephard eyes. Meg thanked god that they were hazel not blue. It was the only restraint keeping her from reaching out to smooth away the worry lines. She wondered what color her grandson's eyes were. Was he being care for at this moment? The thought worried her and the emotion must have showed. Metal cuffs rattled as Jack leaned forward. "Why are you doing this?" Jack asked in a low whisper.

It was the first time he had actually addressed her personally. She had dreamed about meeting him, about what she would say to introduce herself to Christian's son. In her imagination he had taken to her immediately, the supportive mother he had never had growing up. Her chest hurt knowing this first moment of intimacy was staged. The guards hadn't mistakenly wandered out of earshot. She was alone with him by Henry Gale's design and she could practically feel the cold gaze of a hidden camera. She had to force her scripted lines out from around the lump in her throat. "Not all of us have a choice in this," she answered him.

"You're a doctor. You are supposed to help people. You took an oath…"

Meg nodded. She dreaded the inevitable progression of this conversation. The point where he would ask for her help, because gaining his trust and giving him a false opportunity to escape was exactly what Henry wanted her to do. She could see that glimmer of hope in his eyes. Meg fumbled the line of needles on her tray. She had to change the direction of the conversation. She glanced around, her desperation catching on the inked skin of his shoulder. "Um, you don't seem so typical doctor yourself," she rushed indicating his tattoo. Jack fell silent, he didn't look. He didn't need to see. Meg expectantly waited a spell before realizing her question had killed the conversation. It wasn't the kind of reaction she had expected. Wasn't a tattoo all about inviting attention?

Meg frowned, Henry was going to be furious. She needed to get back on script. With an honest sigh of defeat Meg tried to start up the conversation again. "You took that oath too, Jack." She Sterilized the inner skin of his arm and frowned at all the needle marks that had collected since he had been with them. "You should be more worried about the people you left out there on the beach than Kate or Sawyer." Meg found a vein and injected a hormone booster. "Think of all the medical emergencies they face every moment they are out there? Think of Boone, Shannon and Liz. How many more of them could be dead or dying because you are here waiting for a chance to help Sawyer and Kate escape?" Meg looked back into Jack's eyes and hated Henry for the guilt she was causing Jack. "This place has a very extensive medical facility, and contrary to your suspicions we haven't had any patients die here. They die out there, on the island where they have no hope of getting medical attention. So if you want to appeal to my morals, to my oath as a doctor, think carefully about you are going to ask."

Kate woke slowly. She could hear Sawyer humming to himself, which meant he was close and she was probably back in the holding room. Kate rolled onto her side. "Well, well," Sawyer greeted with a smile, "How would Miss Starr like some breakfast in bed?" He sauntered over and put a bowl and spoon on the floor beside her. "Must be your lucky day freckles, it's still warm." He cocked his brow at her. Kate struggled up and poked at the contents of the bowl. It was some sort of cooked grain she didn't recognize. "Where's Jack?" She asked. Sawyer shrugged and looked away. "He'll show, maybe even get here before his bowl o goodies gets too cold to eat."

Kate nodded and took a bite. She glanced back at Sawyer. In a whisper she asked, "So, we on today?" Sawyer gave her an intimate smile and leaned closer, "Eager? You sound pretty sure of yourself." Kate smiled and took another bit of the bland food. Sawyer smiled back at her.

Looks like little miss sticky fingers had been a success, he thought to himself. He watched her in admiration. It turned him on wondering where on her body she might be hiding the key. He couldn't wait to press his luck by looking for it. His heated thoughts drew him back to his discussion with Jack before they had left with Michael. And for the millionth time he wondered if Kate really had said that she loved him.

The overhead lights flickered. Kate glanced up and frowned. Show time Sawyer mumbled. He gave Kate a mischievous side look. "Think it's time you showed me what you're hiding, Mrs. Scarlet," Sawyer purred. Kate gave him a sarcastic glare, "Right, keep dreaming." Sawyer shook his head and slowly stalked her, "Nope, it's definitely time." "Now?" Kate asked suddenly looking uncertain. "C'mon freckles, you can put on a better show than that," Sawyer coaxed.

Jack was counting floor tiles. Large institutional tiles in white flecked with golds and browns. Each tile connected seamlessly to the next marked by a thin dark line. His escort dragged him down the hallway steering him left or right with a shove. He wasn't normally so compulsive. But counting the tiles was helping him keep alert. He had woken up feeling foggy and lethargic. Probably running a fever he diagnosed.

He was at 45 when a hand on his arm pulled him to a halt. Jack blinked and realized Henry Gale had joined the group at some point. Henry stared directly at Jack ignoring their entourage. He waited expectantly for Jack's attention. Slowly, Jack's hooded gaze met Henry's. The edge of Henry's mouth curved up in anticipation. Henry swung open the only door in this section of the hallway. The dark room swallowed the white of the hallway. Jack resisted the shove from behind.

"C'mon Jack, we know why you resist. You think Kate needs you to be strong. But it's time to stop seeing what we want and start seeing what is true." Jack stared at the darkness. He was a firm believer in evidential facts. Believe something when there was proof of evidence. That was how you kept control even when your only source of information was untrustworthy like Henry Gale. But something about the darkness… something about Henry's intense scrutiny made Jack hesitate. Truth didn't always make things feel better and Jack had a feeling that Henry was counting on just that.

Jack stumbled into a heavy office chair cloaked by the darkness. The room was like walking into a dark theater. Jack leaned against the chair back waiting for his eyes to adjust. The silence hummed from a large bank of computer equipment. There were a few monitors casting a blue glow on a technician's face. But it was the wide paneling across the left wall that held Jack's attention. It was the room the others held them captive in. Jack had assumed the mirrored walls concealed some sort of surveillance, but what he saw was Kate and Sawyer life size, behind glass. Like some sort of bizzare cross between an aquarium and a… ah… It suddenly occurred to him what Kate and Sawyer were doing. Both had tossed their shirts aside, Sawyer's fingers crept beneath the light pink clasp on the back of Kate's bra. Jack quickly looked away. His skin flushed hot, the pounding of his pulse was deafening.

Flashback

Nigel glanced nervously down both directions of the track running between flimsy shanty walls. There were no lights this far off the main roads. He stumbled, but Jack caught him before he took a dive in to the squelching muck at their feet. "Are you lost?" Jack asked with a sigh.

Nigel shook his head, "Nah, just had a few too many drinks at the bar's all. Never would have guessed the Safari served such stiff drinks." Jack shook his head and waited for Nigel to choose a direction.

Why had he let Nigel talk him into this? He should be in his hotel room pretending to sleep, not wading through the slums looking for one of Nigel's women. Nigel hadn't been very specific about what medical attention she needed. More likely the girl was hooked on something Nigel had given her, which really made Nigel the problem more than the symptoms she was experiencing. Jack rolled his shoulders trying to work some of the stiffness out of his back. Unfortunately, a girl in need of medical attention ranked upwards on a physician's list of reasons to put off sleep. And despite Jack's best intentions, he had jumped at the opportunity to avoid the nightmares for a night. There was something very definitely wrong with him that he preferred the idea of stumbling around in the dark, while mud that stank of raw sewage seeped in through his boot lacings, following a drunk through a maze of corrugated steel and thatch. Nigel finally moved to the right and Jack followed.

After having to back track a couple of dead ends, Jack could feel the chill of the mud as far up as his knees. He was convinced Nigel was lost and finding a way back to civilization before morning was about as unlikely as Nigel finding the girl. The night had finally had a cooling effect on the warm tropical air. Jack guessed it had to be close to three in the morning. Nigel had long ago lost enthusiasm for the hunt. Jack guessed he was beginning to feel the effects of a hangover when he stopped them in front of a small opening curtained in solid black. Jack only noticed the color because it was unusual to see in a tropical culture like Thailand.

Nigel groaned, "Finally!" They felt their way through a dark hallway into a dimly lit room. A group of men sat around a table playing an oddly silent game of Majong. At the sight of Nigel and Jack one of them stood and disappeared into a dark doorway.

Jack shifted uncomfortably. The men seated at the table ignored their game to stare with hostile eyes at Jack and Nigel. The room was too dark to make out much detail. The men at the table wore dark clothing that blended into the shadow lines of the table and chairs. Jack found himself squinting, trying to make out any dark shape that might hint at a gun. Nigel shifted away from Jack and scratched half-heartedly at the track marks on the inside of his elbow. "Easy now," Nigel muttered to himself. Three Tai men came down the hallway behind Jack and Nigel. One of them stood out in a navy european suit and tie. Jack stepped closer to Nigel. "What is this?" He asked. Nigel shrugged.

Jack fought to keep his breathing normal. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He felt light and skitish as adrenaline hit his system. Jack turned but the three men that had just arrived were blocking the way they had come in. Something was very wrong. The sound of others arriving made him turn back to the room.

A procession of men, led by a richly dressed elder entered the room. An ornately carved chair was produced from the shadows for the man to hold court from. Jack stepped back against the rusty rippled metal of a wall. His eyes darted around the room frantic for a way to slip out. Jack watched Nigel approach and the elder flick his wrist in signal. A brief case was produced that Nigel swung onto the Majong table to open. The room was now nearly full to capacity. Jack wasn't having any difficulty making out the automatic weapons. Jack could feel himself begin to shake. He wanted nothing more than to wake up drenched in sweat, tangled in bed sheets to the soft hum of the air conditioner in his small hotel room.

Jack inched to his right catching a glimpse of small drug bags as Nigel snapped the brief case closed. Nigel nodded to the man seated and strode back towards the doorway they had entered through. Jack moved to follow. He could lay into Nigel about putting him in this situation later. Rail at him for even getting him involved with drugs. But all of that could come later, right now he just wanted out. It was a cowardly act, Jack knew that if he were still himself he would confront Nigel immediately, despite the situation. He was too afraid.

One of the Tai men stepped in behind Nigel to level a gun at Jack. Jack stopped dead. "Nigel?" Nigel stopped, his hand resting on the black curtain. He refused to turn and look. "Sorry Jack," he whispered before slipping past the curtain.

There was a scuffle at the far side of the room. Twisting and kicking a man was dragged forward to a chair at the table. He squirmed desperately disregarding the armed men posted around the room. Jack watched as it took three men to bind him to the chair. The man in the suit stepped beside Jack. "Doctor," He said in clipped english, holding his hand forward indicating Jack should step forward.

Jack blinked. He felt flush with panic. It was getting increasingly hard to catch his breath. The man waited patiently. The whole room watched. Jack swallowed and forced himself forward. The man in the suit matched him, staying close by his side as they approached the table. The elder raised his hand and Jack faltered to a halt. The elder stood and bent his head slightly to Jack. Jack turned at a light touch on his sleeve. The man in the suit bowed slowly, both showing Jack what to do while matching his movements. The elder began to speak and the man beside Jack interpreted.

"You are better not to know names. Instead, know that this is one of the great family. The ancestors are much admired. This family owes you a debt of life. It is not the nature of the great grand fathers to owe debts."

The interpreter stepped away and two armed men stepped forward to shove Jack into the seat across from the bound man. The man across from him yelled something unintelligible and spit on the table between them. Jack wasn't fluent in these men's language but the man's yells raised goose bumps up the back of his neck. His vowel sounds slurred and his voice lacked distinct consonants. With a chill the thought occurred to Jack that he was missing his tongue.

The interpreter's voice continued, "The ancestor's say it is bad luck for a soul to be taken from the world of the dead, yet one cannot alter fate either. This question has caused much anguish. To sooth the ancestors we must pay our debt to the world of the dead."

At this a pistol was placed on the table in front of Jack.

"The great grandfather offers this life in exchange for yours to pay this debt."

Jack jumped to his feet, "What!" The automatic rifles in the room snapped towards him.

"You owe the dead a soul. That balance must be restored. But in gratitude for saving a favored son, we offer this life to be sent in your place."

Jack turned to the interpreter, "You want to kill this man?"

The interpreter shook his head, "For the balance of all things, you must make the choice." Jack was shoved back into the chair. He stared at the dull black gun.


	10. Chapter 10

Flashback

Jack leaned forward onto the table and let his head drop into his arms. His head throbbed in pain. He wasn't sure if it was from the rifle butt that they had used to end his mad dash for the exit or from dehydration. Either reason should have triggered warning bells, but he wasn't in a position to do anything about his own discomfort. Instead he had spent his energy trying to convince someone to help the bound man seated across from him. He had argued, chastised, pleaded until his voice had given out.

His face felt hot against his arm. The rustle of paper caught his attention and his eyes slid to his left. The Thai man with an affinity for wearing business suits sat a few steps away reading a newspaper. Today's suit was a light dove grey. Jack watched him turn a page. He seemed to be the only one in the room that spoke English. Behind him a dozen-armed men lingered along the wall. They came and went in shifts. Jack had lost count somewhere around 16. He guessed the number was somewhere around 23.

He didn't bother expending the energy to turn to see the old man seated in the carved chair behind him. He seemed the most intent on the stage that had been set. He didn't sleep, had food and drink brought to him, Jack could feel the man's weighted stare on him.

The suit reading the paper glanced at Jack and shook his head. Folding the paper in thirds he tucked it into his lap and turned to address Jack. "Why do you wait?" Jack stared back at him with heavily lidded eyes. The man shrugged. "You do not help him," he said pointing at the man across from Jack.

Jack turned his head to study the man bound to the chair. His head sagged forward against his chest. The ropes kept him upright against the chair back. His eyes had become sunken, his skin looked chalky, and Jack was doing his best not to think about the consequences of being denied access to a toilet. "He will die of dehydration soon, I think. Is this your decision?"

Jack turned his head and let it rest against his arm. His mouth was dry. It was difficult to form words around his swollen tongue. "What happens when one of us dies?"

The man shrugged, "The balance of one soul will have been paid to the dead. The living will keep the other." Jack forced himself to ask what it meant that the living would keep the other. "We will take the other to a hospital," the suit replied. Jack laughed in disbelief, he couldn't help himself. How was taking one of them to the hospital to be treated by a physician any different than what he had done to heal this "son" that had somehow caused the world of the dead to be one short. The Thai man looked at him in concern. "You are not well, why do you prolong this? Do you not choose who lives and who dies in the operating room? How can this be different?"

Jack opened his mouth to answer when the man across from him convulsed in a dry heave. Jack jumped up on reflex. He reached the man's side before he was physically forced back to his chair. "This man needs help!" Jack rasped, struggling against the hands holding him down. "He needs fluids!" The man in the suit grabbed the gun from the table and shoved it into Jack's hand. "Time to choose!" He demanded.

Jack twisted away from the hands and stared at the weapon. His mechanism to deal with fear kicked in, the timer counting down from 5. His mind raced. He wondered how many bullets were in the gun. How many of these men, standing there allowing this terrible thing to happen, could he shoot before he would be killed? Jack had already proven his aim was true. But what would he gain? A few years in therapy to overcome the persistent nightmares?

Revenge would only hurt more people; he wanted to save life, this life. Jack ground the heels of his palms into his temples. He felt dizzy. The sound of dry heaving made his stomach squirm uncomfortably. Raising his head, the room seemed to spin. His five seconds were up. He needed to choose; the man across from him was dying. How far would he go to save a stranger's life? Hefting the weight of the gun Jack looked at the man dying across from him. According to his father he didn't have what it took, but could he amount to something if he failed while trying rather than failing to try. He shoved the gun muzzle beneath his chin. The whole room went still. The elder stood from his throne. Jack pulled the trigger.

Jack sagged against the cool wall of a supply cabinet trying to catch his breath. Each breath hurt. Through the cracked door he could see the red glow of the exit sign at the end of the hall. The overhead sirens wailed. Everyone in the complex had to know he had escaped. He was so close. A few dozen strides and he would be through the door. Free to get back to the beach to organize a return rescue party. A pair of security had raced past his hiding spot a few moments ago, but now the hallway was empty. Sayid would know how to free Kate and Sawyer, but Jack continued to hesitate.

He pressed his temple against the smooth white paint of the wall. He couldn't say if he was seeking relief from the fevered heat radiating off his skin or the image of Kate and Sawyer's intimate embrace. The right thing to do was to go get help. Jack knew that's what he was supposed to do. This was the chance he had been given, to return to the beach where people needed his skill set. If he could just stop second guessing his options and act.

But he couldn't stop block out the sight of Kate kissing Sawyer. It shouldn't be affecting him this much. He had heard Kate tell Sawyer she loved him. He had mentioned it to Sawyer in a rare moment of confidence before setting out to rescue Walt. Jack wondered if he wasn't trying to escape the others, but escaping the fact that Kate didn't return his feelings. He clenched his eyes shut. The soft scuff noise of a dress shoe against the tile floor forced Jack back to reality. Across from him, hidden in the shadows stood the Thai elder responsible for Jack's tattoos. His dark eyes stared without blinking. He stood straight, without the normal bend or sagging some one of his age would normally have. Jack clutched the wall behind him, this shouldn't be happening. He felt pinned beneath the old man's stare like a display insect. Jack's eye was caught by the dark ink on his shoulder, a label. The Asian characters were part of a poem, the line read, "Eagles high up cleaving the space".

The elder's dark eyes forced Jack back to the moment. He had woken up in his hotel bed; the skin on his shoulders burning and the bed sheets blushed from the weeping ink marks. He tried to remember more, but he couldn't seem to move past feeling the muzzle of the gun shudder as the hammer clicked. A note had been left for him. This gift of life repays our debt. It wasn't enough to stop Jack from dwelling on whether the other man was alive or dead. He wondered out into the heat of the day disoriented. The whole sequence of events lost in shock. Someone, a young girl, touched his shoulder and everything had snapped back into focus. Jack jumped up from a chair he didn't remember sitting in. The girl stared up at him, her eyes huge with awe. Her mother scrambled forward squawking in reprimand until she noticed the fresh tattoos. Turns out eagles cleaving space tattooed to his arm was a judgement on Jack's character, praise from a culture Jack didn't understand.

Jack stared at the apparition standing in the closet beside him. The elder's mouth moved, speaking to Jack, but there was no sound. He didn't understand the poem completely. But the eagles where something honored that moved through the enormity of the sky under their own direction. What it had meant to Jack was a lot of unwanted attention. Whispering behind his back, expectant looks, the occasional touch. He had resorted to keeping the tattoos covered.

When the summon had come that he was needed at home he hadn't given much of a fight.

Jack wiped at the sweat on his brow. Was he seeing things because of the fever? Wrapped in the shadows of the supply closet, the elder watched and waited. Jack moved away from the elder toward the door. Jack stepped into the deserted hallway. He knew he should go get help; he stood close enough for the light of the exit sign to play off his skin. But he had to know. He simply didn't have faith that everything would turn out ok. He had to know that Kate was safe. Know that she was happy even if that was with Sawyer. Jack cursed himself and pushed off the wall in the opposite direction.

"NO!" Henry yelled at the computer monitor. He slammed his fist into the keyboard, "NO, no, no," he yelled beating at the keyboard while the computer beeped in protest. He whipped around to face the technician, "What happened?" He turned to glare at Meg, Bea, and Tom who stood behind him. "What the hell happened!" Henry growled, "He was right there! The exit was right there! Why didn't he go through the door! Damnit!" Henry turned back to the technician. "Find out where he went. I want Shepherd dragged in here in the next ten minutes or people are going to start losing their jobs." Henry turned to glare at Meg, Bea, and Tom, "Go!" he yelled. They hurried out of the room.

Kate ran her fingernail down the crack between the huge mirrored panels. It went smoothly and she quickly moved on to the next divider. At the other end of the room Sawyer worked his way down the other direction. The room had gone dark the moment the sirens had started. The lack of light made identifying the hidden door difficult. Her nail caught on something and she quickly fished the key from where she had hidden it. She fumbled the key against the opening of the lock and it fell to the floor. Dropping to her knees she frantically patted the cement looking for the key. "Any Luck?" Sawyer called from the darkness. "I dropped the key," she confessed. Sawyer cursed and moved towards her voice. "Good going Butterfinger," He griped dropping down beside her. "Did you find the lock?" Kate nodded focused on finding the key. "You better be nodding," he growled, his finders blundering into hers. "How are we going to find Jack?" Kate asked. "Freedom first, freckles," Sawyer growled. Sawyer found the key and turned to the mirror smooth wall. "Got it, which one?"

"Here," Kate called. Sawyer followed her arm to the intersection. The fit was tight, but Sawyer managed to persuade a fit. The panel popped forward emitting a crack of light into the room. Grabbing Kate's hand Sawyer pulled her with him into the hall. He led her to the right at a run.


End file.
