This is the start of an idea that is completely different from anything I've ever attempted to write before, a different take on one of my favorite seasons, Season Three. This is an Island Jate fiction (slightly, if not completely AU) through and through, that inculcates a lot about what I love so much about the show. I hope I do this idea justice.

A very, very special thanks to stef23.51 for his ideas and continued encouragement. You are absolutely amazing, sir.


Benjamin Linus wheeled himself down the fluorescently-lit hallways of the office cabin of the Others compound, with Tom hot on his trail. The breeze of the cool night bit through his flannel pajamas, and he had been strongly advised to stay in bed, that the situation was being handled, but he demanded to be in the thick of it, and no one dared to cross him or disagree. He opened the door to his office, and met the three security detail officers before wheeling himself behind his desk. He listened closely to Pryce, the head of security, for every detail of the invasion.

"We saw her creeping into the Doctor's quarters on the monitors. It appears she had no idea he was being watched. They argued for a second before I sent the team in to extract her. I kept my gun on the Doctor until they had her down on the ground. She's cuffed and being detained on-site. The Arab has also been cuffed and detained."

Ben took in the news, and sighed. "Was there anyone else out there besides Austen and Jarrah?"

"No sir, just the fugitive and the Arab. It appears that they're alone. Plus, the fugitive said there was no one else."

"Well, appearances don't always tell the entire story and Austen is a career fugitive, she lies, often, and she could be lying about this," Ben lectured. "I want you to scour the perimeter. They didn't find us by themselves. Austen is too impulsive and Jarrah wouldn't have a clue we were even here." He tipped his glasses further down the bridge of his nose, suspicious. "They had help. Someone patient enough to wait and someone smart enough to not get caught." Someone else was here. He knew it, felt it.

Before Ben could give his next order, Richard came through the closed door of his office, a worn, folded sheet of paper sat in his hand and it could have only come from one person. There was only one person that was more important than the security breach, only one person that was more important than anything, to the Island, and to Ben.

"Gentlemen, will you excuse us?" Ben asked politely. A thought dawned on him before the security team left. "Oh yes, bring Jack in here please, I want to have a word with him." The room emptied quickly, leaving Ben and Richard alone.

"You couldn't have picked a worse time, Richard." Ben massaged his temples.

"Don't shoot the messenger, Ben. You know how erratic his timing can be. He waits for no one. It arrived just now, and I brought it straight away." Richard said, passing the folded sheet of paper to Ben. "Shouldn't you be in bed? After such a complicated surgery, you—"

"Two very dangerous and very determined outsiders who weren't even supposed to make it past the sonar pylons that are supposed to protect us invaded the compound tonight, Richard. The very last place I should be is in bed." Ben argued, reminding himself to send a maintenance crew to the sonar fence. It was due for a check-up.

Ben took the piece of paper and opened it, reading its contents under his desk lamp. It was another one of his lists, and instead of numerous names, there was only one, with a list of explicit directions to follow. He smirked surreptitiously, a slight grin peeked through. Richard stood, curious about what the note said. He was always so curious, but he knew his place, never dared to step out of line and he also knew that whatever the note instructed, Ben was trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt to perform. He always did and he always would.

Pryce brought Jack into Ben's office by his arm. Jack jerked his arm away, staring at Pryce with an annoyed scowl, not in the least bit intimidated and obviously pissed off and prepared to punch something, the guard being at the top of his list for the moment. He turned to Benjamin and Richard, who were staring holes into him. He didn't have time for this, he needed to see Kate. They'd taken her away so quickly, he didn't have a chance to see if they'd hurt her when they pushed her to the ground and literally pulled her out of his sight.

"Where's Kate?" Jack asked, wasting no time with pleasantries, although he didn't approve of Ben being out of bed, but he did his part, the rest was up to him.

Ben decided to ignore his question, because he felt like Jack wasn't in the position to ask or demand answers about anything. "Did you know about this?"

Jack caught the suspicious verve of Ben's tone and didn't like it one bit. "What?" He was fuming at this point. Seeing Kate being so roughly man-handled and treated like a sack of garbage was enough to make him lose his grip on reality, but this, this was insane. He told her not to come back here, and her inability to listen to him has caused everything to blow up in his face. He was so angry with her and yet so worried about her, he couldn't see straight, but he willed himself to listen intently to Ben, who was obviously displeased. He blew out a quick breath before responding, "Did I know about what?"

Ben continued to accuse. "Kate. Sayid. They're obviously here to rescue you Jack, now who would have given them the idea that you needed to be saved?"

"Wait a minute. You think that I—" He couldn't even bring himself to voice the question, because it was too ridiculous to put into words. The muscles in Jack's shoulders bunched until they almost snapped. He could literally feel his biceps burning, the need to throttle someone was bursting. He moved passed Richard, standing firm, his eyes baring shards of madness, frustration, and his voice low, insulted. "I would rather see you dead on the ground than to want or even ask Kate or Sayid to risk their lives to come back here. I have no idea how they even found us, and I didn't encourage anyone to do anything. I told Kate to never come back here for me."

"It's nice to know that my well-being still means so much to you, Jack," Ben's sarcasm was dripping in pools, "but, obviously she didn't care what you told her, or maybe you just want me to believe that you told her any such thing."

"He did, Ben," Tom announced from the door, which was now wide open, "I was there when the Doc told her to never come lookin' for him. This was all her doing. Jack wants off this Island and he did everything you asked."

"Well, Tom, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a soft spot for our temporary visitor," Ben taunted, staring over the rim of his reading glasses at his large friend, who took kindly to guests way too easily. "You might want to get over that, because he's leaving. Very soon. Tonight to be exact."

Jack placed his hands flat on the desk, peering down at Ben, his bugged-eyes moved to meet his. "Before I get on that sub, I want to see her, and after I'm gone, I want you to let them go, both of them."

Ben whistled, uncompromisingly. "You're biting the hand that feeds you, Jack. Letting them go was not a part of the deal."

"Well, Ben, the circumstances of the deal have obviously changed," Jack argued his point valiantly, "Kate and Sayid aren't even supposed to be here. Promise me that you'll let them go, and only then will I leave."

What was it about him and these people? Ben thought. Kate had betrayed him, broke his heart, and yet he would risk freedom, again, to protect her. This has to be real love at its finest, it's just too bad Jack was leaving and would never really know if his feelings were returned, they obviously were or Kate wouldn't be here, but Jack failed to see that, but he did, and it delighted him more than he thought it would. "I'll let them go, once I get the answers I require."

Jack continued to look Ben straight-on, worried now more than anything that Ben had Kate strapped down to some torturing contraption, pressuring her with pain to talk. He wouldn't put it past him. "Where is she?"

The alarmed tone in Jack's voice meant that he wanted to see her, not now, but right now. "Are you sure that's such a good idea, Jack. You can make a clean break for it. Get on that sub without any interaction with Miss Austen whatsoever. She'll be nothing but a distant memory." Ben knew that to Jack, she would never be so easily forgotten and abandoned, but that was why they were standing there having this conversation, wasn't it?

"Where is she?" The words were more pronounced, angrier, louder. Ben looked over to Tom, who had detained Kate himself.

"She's in one of the game rooms, Doc. I can take you to her." Jack eagerly followed Tom into the hallway.

"Jack?" Ben called, watching as Jack turned to him, red anger still present in his eyes. "Make it quick. The sub will be leaving sooner than you think, and as a man of my word, it won't move an inch without you."

Jack and Tom walked quickly through the courtyard towards the east quadrant of the expansive compound. Juliet appeared on the porch of her barrack, and watched as the two men moved through the dark space, which was lit by the light posts at each corner. Something was going on and she had the feeling that Jack was right in the middle of it.

"Jack!" She called. He and Tom stopped in their tracks and turned. She was already walking towards them. "What the hell is goin' on?"

"Kate came back." Jack said, staring at her regretfully. He finally reached her, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, gripping it lovingly. "I need to talk to her."

That didn't make any sense; Jack had told her to never come looking for him, but the fugitive always had her own plans, Juliet remembered. "She came by herself?"

"My friend Sayid is here too. I'm not sure where they're holding him, but I gotta make sure that Ben lets them go. I won't leave until that happens."

"Well, I'm packed and ready to go." She smiled meekly at him, and he half-returned it.

"I'm right behind you, I just have to say goodbye." He took her hand, held it firmly. He smiled coyly at her. "I have to." There were a lot of things he had to do for Kate, even though his heart was barely back in good form from what she'd done, but he couldn't bare the thought of leaving the Island without making sure she was okay, which he doubted she would be, not after what he had to tell her.

"Then go. I'll be waiting for you when it's time." Jack smiled at her before he walked back over to Tom, who led him up a small staircase to the game room. Juliet hoped that Kate wouldn't get her hooks into Jack this time, because she was more than looking forward to leaving the Island knowing that Jack would be coming with her. Her crush on him has turned into something that she wasn't able to control any longer, and with Kate back in the picture, she wasn't sure what Jack would decide.

Tom opened the door to the game room, and watched as Kate wiggled around on the edge of the pool table. She was a slippery one, he thought, a real piece of work. He remembered what he saw of the clear connection she shared with Jack, when he and a few of the Others captured her and presented her to the Doctor as a tactic to get him to stop trying to find Michael. He was dead-bolted to the ground the moment they revealed her as their prisoner, sweaty, completely rocked to the core. That was how Ben knew who Jack was emotionally-invested in, who he had given his heart to without fail. They were always sure that it was Kate, and now more than ever, they were sure that Jack was that person for her.

She was frozen, somewhat paralyzed with fear when she saw Tom at the door, watching him with those doe-green eyes of hers. He spoke to someone at his side, someone she couldn't see. He pointed at his ear, and Kate couldn't make out what that was supposed to mean. "Be careful in here." He whispered, indicating that even though they were alone, people were listening.

Jack patted his friend on the shoulder, offering his thanks. He walked into the room and drunk in Kate's rumpled, but fine appearance. She was okay. Inside, he was breathing sighs of relief, but on the outside, he was as stoic as a brick wall, as if her presence was nothing more than a mere inconvenience, and honestly, even though he knew she was trying to help him in her own special way that usually ended with the tip of a gun pointed towards her, that's exactly what her being here was, a ticking time-bomb of inconvenience, because now he had to worry about her, and worst of all, see her, before he left. Why wasn't she with Sawyer, safe? Why couldn't she have just sat still for once? Damn her for this.

Kate took in Jack's appearance. He looked just as she remembered. Tall, handsome, stubble at his cheeks, the passionate russet brown of his eyes hadn't dimmed a day, but there was obvious anger in them, and disappointment, but for most of her study, there was nothing at all. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but the cuffs really didn't offer her much freedom with her hands, which was the obvious point. She just decided that staring at him would have to do, and he was a welcomed sight to her well-being and sense of calm. She thought that he'd been a prisoner here, that he wasn't able to live out his own will, and he wasn't entirely free to his own devices, he was being watched and he tried to warn her against coming any closer, but she wasn't there to play things safe and still. Other than that, he seemed happy, almost content here with the people who threw him into a glass tank and tortured his friends for days on end. She wanted to ask, 'What the hell was that in the courtyard?', but she had to start off light. She wasn't even supposed to be here, but how dare he ask her to stay away, after all they'd been through together?

Tom closed the door, allowing Jack and Kate some semblance of privacy. Instead of moving to her and dragging her into his chest for a bear hug like she so desperately wanted him to do, he stepped over, grabbed the top of a folding chair, and brought it backwardly in between his legs, sitting on it casually, and stared at her as if studying a bug under a microscope. 'What was that?' Kate thought. It was like coming near her was strictly forbidden. Something was very wrong, she decided. He walked like Jack, looked like Jack, even had the same mysterious paint down his arm like Jack, but this Jack lacked something so unrelentingly valuable to her, he lacked the compassion that her Jack always showed.

Jack continued to study her, from the tip of her head to the soles of her hiking boots. She seemed okay, but he still had to ask, "They hurt you?"

The shrill coldness of his voice made her spine stiffen, but the question reminded her of the Jack that she longed for. Tears stung her eyes, and her voice was shaky, broken, "No. They hurt you?"

As if his safety were a joke to him, he laughed. The irony of that question, coming from the person who actually had hurt him, wasn't ignored on his part. He shook his head, "No."

She looked around from the time since they'd thrown her in here, taking in the shed full of toys and board games, the posters of cartoon characters on the way, and the pool table she sat on. It was obviously a play room of some sort, but she had to get him to talk to her, so she asked, "What is all this?"

He followed her eyes across the walls, nodding. "This is where they live."

One-sentence answers, she thought. This was the Jack who was hiding something, who was stepping away from her, shielding the truth from her prying eyes, and even worse, shielding his emotions. She accepted that answer, but she wanted more. "And the people they took?" She looked down at her sore, cuffed wrists, sad, but still probing, "The kids?"

He looked down to the floor, his head shook in the affirmative. "They're all safe." His tone was so calm, and so unfeeling, but smooth all the same, not a shred of temper, and it unnerved her. He finally looked up at her with those vacant, void eyes again, meeting her dead-on. Now she knew he was lying, and she couldn't stand it any longer.

She met his eyes, her face contorted from confusion and outrage. "Safe?" She asked pointedly, disbelievingly. He nodded coolly; everything about him was so cool, in a place full of people that were ten-inches shy of killing a man right in front of her. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to say, but he was positive that wasn't what she was expecting, he read it in her disturbed disposition.

She smirked callously, twitching her shoulder as if to play off of his carefree temperament, because she had none of her own. "So you're with them now?"

He stared off for a second, trying his best to deliberate her question, but deliberation wasn't necessary from his end, he knew exactly where he stood and who he stood with. He was alone, and he was fine with that. Alone suited him just fine, because anything else led down a road he wasn't willing to take. He finally shook his head, his voice so base, deep, and grainy.

"I'm not 'with' anyone, Kate."

Now she had her answer. This isn't Jack. This is not his attitude, his point of view. This was someone else, someone who had become hardened and cold since the last time she saw him. This was outrageous, uproarious; this wasn't how it was supposed to be. The man who brought a group of hungry, thirsty panicked survivors together to coexist, who begrudgingly picked up the torch of leadership and ran with it, he would never say this. He would never do this to the people who were sitting on a beach, worried about him, and frankly, he would never do this to her. She had come back for him and there was no 'Thank you, Kate', there was no assurance that he was even happy to see her at all, and now she was there alone, among an army of murderers, with no advocate. This was insane, pure insanity. She was at her wits end. Now was the time to dig deep.

Kate hopped off the pool table and started towards him, her voice sparking with impatience and betrayal, "What did they do to you?"

He bowed, shook his head then, a sign for her not to come any further, because if she did, he knew that he would break, he would tell, he would sing. He could barely stand the faint fragrance of her skin at this proximity, but if she came any closer, if she asked any more questions, he would snap. So he had to say something.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you acting like this?" Her voice was louder, prouder, angrier. The more betrayed she felt, the harder it would be for him to leave this room, which was growing smaller and smaller with each step she made in his direction. He couldn't think straight now, he couldn't form his sentences, and things were too muddled to communicate at this point.

He tried to talk anyways, his eyes still cast towards the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. "There's no w—you—There's no way that I could—"

Now she was shouting, hurt, drained, disappointed. "I came here to help you! So why don't you just tell me why you're—"

His temper flared like a sparking firecracker, every one of her triggers caught him up, and he'd been had. He shouted over her, just as loudly, just as disappointed, his eyes finally picking themselves up from the ground to meet the shocked glare of hers.

"I told you not to come back here for me!"

Teeth gnashing, she spoke through them. "I didn't think you meant it."

A sheen of tears made his eyes shine in the dimly-lit game room. There it was, the emotion that she'd been searching for, praying for, the temper that he knew would explode if he let her anywhere near it. He kept his eyes locked on her, and then they fell to the ground, his brow knitted in painful observation. He looked back up at her, intent to say something, but the words sunk back, and he was left without steely defense, she knew it, and she softened at the sight of it. He suddenly couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in and he had to get out of there. What had possessed him into thinking that this was a good idea? That any of this, that seeing her, that trying to talk calmly to her, would bring the smooth result that he sought? She saw the struggle in his face. He wasn't in control of anything anymore, at the very least, his emotions, which he cast to the side the moment he saw her in his barrack.

Everything right and all things real propelled her feet towards him now, and she reached for him, grateful that he didn't balk at her attempt to touch. Then her palm landed over his hand, and her anger washed away, all that remained was a love that one single touch couldn't have possibly been responsible for. This was always there, and she'd missed it so much, she now felt the heavy sag of her lungs brighten with life again. She felt him flinch beneath her, a tiny speck of acknowledgment, that he felt it too, the heavy stream of sparks that rained down on her, rained on him too. He finally opened his eyes, straining against the urge to weep, to sigh, because it was still there, she still had the power to sweep him over and under. He melted at her advance, melted away and evaporated at her nearness. He tried to avoid this, sitting a full foot away from her, but she always came back to him. Why did she always have to come back for him?

She kneeled to his level, and wrapped her hands into his, and felt him immediately react, his fingers curling over her palms. God, how long had it been since she touched him, been this close to him? It felt like just yesterday, every cell in her body had been branded with his imprint, completely memorized, but still in desperate need of the livewire that always ran between them, in order to survive. She'd been touched all over by a man, kissed, made love to, but the gamut of tingles down her spine hadn't run as far then as they were sprinting now. She knew that her feelings for Jack, if she allowed them to run free, would be her undoing. She was too open, left to her vulnerabilities for too long to hide herself now. If he asked her right this second if she loved him, she wouldn't have the strength to deny that she did, more than she ever thought possible, more than the love for any other she declared it to combined, and she always would.

She gave herself a moment to breathe him in, his natural, manly scent intoxicating. His face was pained, because she just ripped the scab from the wound that he worked too damn hard to repair. It was seeping now, bleeding love, all for her. Why didn't he run for the submarine with no regret, no remorse, no looking back? Because he missed this just as much as she obviously had, and he already felt the growling press for more.

She was so soft now, pliable, one big, pulsating hurt that stared him square in the eyes, pleading, "What did they do to you, Jack?"

He was stone-cold busted, the puppy-dog bend of her brows made him want to be eaten up by the floor underneath them. He had to let it all go. "I made a deal with them," he nodded to punctuate the bombshell that came next, "They're gonna let me go."

She shook her head, completely confused and distraught, but she had to know more. "Where?"

"Home." His lips tickled with a smile, but the sadness still mounted over it, preventing it from fully blooming. He thought he was staring home straight in the face, but she wasn't his home anymore. She wasn't anything anymore, she was simply a person that he loved, still loved with everything that made him who he was, but she was someone else's home now, and he had to get back to square one.

She could have cried just then, bawled until her eyes shot red from their sockets. She desperately wanted to crawl into him and never let go, but that would just make the leaving harder to bear, so she had to stay strong.

She wanted to be happy for him, so she smiled, nodded, now unable to look him in the eyes. "When?"

"Tonight." He whispered, and watched as her face bared her disapproval; the wounds of what he just told her ever present in her freckled, delicate features. She just nodded, eyes closed, heart stomped, trampled. He didn't want it to happen this way. He tried to breathe again, finding it hard to do so, and then he looked up at the ceiling, asking whatever higher power that existed on this Island to give him the fortitude to keep going.

"I can bring back help. It's our best chance—" He whispered, her booming denial cutting him short.

"You trust these people?" Her voice grew louder, sure to be heard past the doors behind him. "They are liars! Why would you believe a word that—"

"I trust them because you told me to, Kate…" It was his turn to raise his voice, to simmer and stew in his own rage. His eyes focused on her shirt, his voice now low, back to the register that only she could hear, "When you asked me to save Sawyer's life."

Where anger and disbelief once was, confusion stood proudly. She told him to trust them? This was her fault? Her doing? Her creation? How did everything get so turned upside down? What was happening to the two of them? Had they destroyed each other without any acknowledgment of the damage they'd done? These questions left a trail of unanswered boulders in their wake, heavy against her heart, a heart that ached to beat again. If she knew that wanting to save Sawyer meant losing Jack, she wouldn't have taken that risk, and when he screamed at her to take Sawyer and run, everything switched, her world as she knew it shifted in a way that losing Sawyer wouldn't have played a part in at all. She refused to leave without him, but he gave her no choice. She loved them both, in different ways and for different reasons, but Jack, with him there was so much more to the emotion than her limited experience with the real thing could ever account for.

She was always so late with realizing these things, the ruins of her life left those she cared about the most fumbling, abandoned or dead. She was afraid that leaving Jack behind, against her will and choice in the matter, only to come back in the twenty-third hour, was a decision that will have repercussions for the rest of her life. She was too late, and she already felt new scars scratching at the ones that hadn't healed. She stared into the depths of his eyes, shell-shocked, her mouth open in her speechless stance, her spine suddenly erect.

She leaned into him, her fingers holding to him tighter, "Jack..." she shook her head again, her eyes were so lost, her brows furrowed in that dangerously deep crease, "what did they tell you?"

Instead of answering her, his eyes began to trail over every part of her face. She was so beautiful, so, so beautiful. The green of her eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, the curve of her nose, the high beam of her cheeks, sprinkled with tiny brown dots of those adorable freckles, the luscious line of her lips, pink pulses that he ached to feel against his tongue again, the way that the untied tresses about her face bounced against her temples, the dark brown beside her ivory complexion made the picture so hard to turn away from, but he broke the spell.

He unraveled the impenetrable knot that their hands were now tangled in, and dug into his jean pocket to reveal a sterling silver-plated wrist-watch. A thin, chiseled gold ring circled the glass plate that sat over the face. Even though it no longer worked, it was in excellent condition for how old it was, Rolex watches were usually trusted to stand the test of time and this one sure had. It even survived the perils of a plane crash. He smiled at the sight of it, his adoration for the time-piece evident in the careful way he handled it. He held it up to her.

"This was my dad's," he blew a staggered breath, his emotions didn't have the muscle for this, but he continued. "He gave it to me the day I graduated from medical school. He told me that his father had given it to him when he graduated, and that I should give it to my son one day, when he was old enough to wear it proudly, when he had decided his place in the world. It was the only moment in my life he ever told me that he was proud of me. I planned to wear it to his funeral."

Tears pricked his eyes now, but he willed them away. He took her hand, uncurled her fingers and placed the watch into her open palm. "I need you to hold onto it for me, protect it, because once I get on that sub, you'll be the person it belongs to." She gripped the watch in her fist and pulled away from him with a sharp whimper of ache, turning so that he didn't see her wipe at her tears.

She didn't succeed, he was still leaving. He was going. He wasn't coming back to the beach with her, where memories of him would haunt her. What were they supposed to do without him? What was she supposed to do without him? Nothing about her coming back had changed his mind. Wasn't it enough that he was going to get help? Wasn't she at the very least satisfied that there was a method, a purpose to his mission? In short, no. She wanted him to stay with her, as selfish as that sounded, she didn't care. She needed him to reconsider, but if he was passing such a prized possession into her hands, and asking her to care for it, then he was as good as gone.

"I asked you not come back here for me and I wish", the gulp of air that he took in felt heavy in his lungs, "…I wish that you hadn't." He pushed up from the chair, standing straight.

She was still crouched below, on the floor, devastated, unable to seal the hurt with the comfort of the watch that was still balled up in her fist. It wasn't enough. No one and nothing else was and ever would be. She could feel him coming closer, the squeak of his boots against the floor and the charge of the air drew her backwards, into him. He bent next to her, his hand placed over her bare shoulder, his cheek settled against her soft curls. She sunk.

"But I will come back here for you." The throaty, gritty whisper of his promise made her breath hitch, her battered heart bowed. Her eyes opened then, she couldn't see anything through the film of her tears. She could literally feel the warmth of the room dissipate the moment he stepped toward the door.

He hesitated for a split second; the cool pane of glass numbed his forehead as he leaned against it, the skin there hot, like every other part of him suddenly. She roamed through his system like a fever, molten and shivering. Will this need ever go away? He thought. With time, and with distance, it would, it had to, or his life would forever be tied down to a love he couldn't have. He pushed lightly at the door handle and walked out, into the darkness, and into a world where Kate wasn't allowed.