Title: After the End
Author: Diandra Hollman
E-Mail: diandrahollman@gmail.com
Website: http://diandrahollman.neocities.org/
LJ: http://diandrahollman.livejournal.com
Date Finished: 4/8/15 (yes, I did that on purpose)
Rating: TV-14 for the first two parts (Jack, Kate), NC-17 for 
the last one (Sawyer).
Keywords: Jack/Kate/Sawyer, het, slash
Spoilers: The End
Disclaimer: Never owned them.
Summary: “It was over.” But was it really?
Dedication: To the best fandom I have ever participated in. You 
guys are amazing.


After the End
By Diandra Hollman

*************
Part 1: Jack


The pain was gone.

Jack knew that was a bad sign. He knew it meant his body and 
mind were shutting down. 

He chuckled weakly as the plane flew overhead. It was over. His 
friends – the people he loved - would be safe. They had won. 

He could finally let go.

He closed his eyes. He felt Vincent shift closer, trying in 
vain to lend him some warmth. And then he couldn’t feel 
anything anymore. 

There was no white light. No tunnel. He wasn’t greeted by the 
people he’d lost in life. There was just darkness and voices 
drifting around him, muted and distant.

“...hear me? Jack...”

“How long...”

“Is he...”

“...I don’t know, okay?”

He knew the voices. Hurley. Desmond. But he couldn’t understand 
*why* he was still hearing them. He was dead. He had to be. But 
they were still alive – he had made sure of that.

The voices continued – some he recognized and some he didn’t – 
but he stopped listening to them. It no longer mattered. *He* 
no longer mattered. 

“...hear us?”

“I don’t know...”

Kate. Sawyer. But that couldn’t be possible. They had left the 
island. He tried to focus on what they were saying, but it was 
too difficult. They kept fading in and out. Or maybe he was the 
one fading in and out. But why? Shouldn’t he have left his body 
already?

“...should see ‘im. Looks more like you every day. ‘cept for 
the hair, of course. But he’s a Shephard all right.”

The numbing fog that had surrounded Jack lifted suddenly and he 
could hear Sawyer’s voice clearly. He could also, he realized, 
hear the rhythmic whooshing of a respirator and all the other 
myriad background noises of a hospital ICU.

“Never thought I’d see Freckles playin’ momma, but she sure 
loves that kid.” He snorted. “The hell ‘m I sayin’? You know 
that. Still can’t believe you forgot to mention you two were 
engaged.”

The puzzling realization that Sawyer was talking to *him* was 
quickly followed by a blaze of understanding. 

‘I’m alive.’

His awareness came back to him slowly. He felt a warm weight 
covering one of his hands. Every time he took a breath, he felt 
air being gently pushed into his lungs in rhythm with the 
wooshing respirator.

Sawyer sighed heavily and Jack felt the weight on his hand 
shift. Sawyer’s hand, he realized. “Never thought I’d miss the 
sound of your voice,” Sawyer murmured. “Never thought I’d miss 
*you*. Y’gotta wake up, Doc. I don’t care what those other 
doctors think. I know you’re still in there.”

Jack tried to open his eyes but they felt glued shut. The more 
he tried, the more he felt drawn back toward the numbing 
comfort of blackness. How long had he been in that state?

Sawyer’s thumb rubbed the back of his hand. Jack narrowed his 
focus to that one point of contact. If he could concentrate 
hard enough, maybe he could move the muscles in his fingers.

“It killed me to just leave you there, you know,” Sawyer 
continued. “Bleedin’ to death like that. But you wanted me to 
go. I could see it in your eyes. You wanted me to make sure 
Freckles and your sister made it back safe. Wanted us to get 
offa that island for good.” He let out a sad, half-chuckle. 
“Fuckin’ martyr.”

Jack focused all of his energy on making his index finger move, 
but it was like trying to run from a nightmare – his body just 
didn’t want to respond to his mind’s commands. ‘Move, damnit,’ 
he thought desperately.

Sawyer gasped. “Doc?”

The thumb rubbing Jack’s hand froze and Jack hoped fervently 
that it meant Sawyer had felt his feeble attempt at 
communication.

A chair creaked as Sawyer leaned closer. “Can you hear me?”

‘Yes,’ Jack’s mind screamed.

The grip on his hand shifted, clutching more firmly and raising 
Jack’s hand a few inches. “Doc? If you can hear me...squeeze my 
hand.”

The muscles in Jack’s forearm screamed in protest of the sudden 
movement, but the pain helped, reawakening the nerve endings 
along Jack’s arm. This time, Jack felt his fingers fold slowly, 
stiffly, within Sawyer’s grip.

There was a dull thumping noise Jack couldn’t identify and then 
Sawyer was leaning over him, pressing the palm of his other 
hand gently to Jack’s forehead. “Don’t try to talk,” he 
murmured. “Y’got a tube in your throat.”

Jack squeezed his hand, the movement much easier this time.

“Jesus...” Sawyer made a noise like a tiny sob. “It’s okay, 
Doc. You’re gonna be alright.”

A door opened somewhere and a voice Jack vaguely recognized 
from another life said, “Mr. LaFleur?”

“He’s awake. He’s squeezin’ my hand.”

The newcomer sighed heavily. “James...”

“It ain’t a reflex this time, Doc.”

Gentle fingers pried Jack’s right eye open and a bright light 
sent a stabbing pain through his skull. He gripped Sawyer’s 
hand, a helpless scream ripping from his chest. The sound that 
reaching his ears was garbled and weak, unrecognizable.

Everything went fuzzy. The next thing Jack was aware of was a 
hand squeezing his shoulder.

“Jack? Can you hear me?”

His hand responded almost before his mind commanded it to, 
squeezing within Sawyer’s steadfast hold.

“Yeah,” Sawyer relayed.

There was a moment of hesitation before the doctor continued. 
“I gave you something for the pain. I’m going to turn the 
ventilator off now. Just try to relax and breathe normally.”

The face that went with the voice swam to the forefront of 
Jack’s dazed mind. The kind eyes and patient smile. Dr. Hamill.

The loud hiss of the ventilator stopped and Jack’s mind drifted 
fuzzily while Dr. Hamill checked his breathing. Sawyer was 
stroking the back of his hand again and he wondered at the 
gesture. Their relationship had always been tenuous and rocky, 
but this tenderness was new. He hadn’t stopped touching Jack 
since he woke up.

“Okay, Jack, I’m going to take the tube out. Take a deep breath 
for me?”

Jack inhaled as deeply as he could, which didn’t feel like much 
at all.

“And blow,” Dr. Hamill instructed. 

Jack exhaled and felt the unpleasant sensation of the plastic 
tube sliding from his trachea. He coughed and whimpered, the 
garbled sounds emerging from his throat resembling a wounded 
animal more than anything recognizably human.

A mask covered his nose and mouth, oxygen already flowing. 
“That’s it,” Dr. Hamill murmured as he secured the mask with 
practiced ease. “Take it easy.”

Jack tried one more time to open his eyes, though he could feel 
the pain medication numbing his senses, coaxing him back into 
the warm safety of sleep. He thought he caught a faint glimpse 
of two blurry figures hovering on either side of him before the 
meds won the battle and dragged him under.

*************
Part 2: Kate


Kate had been numb since the Ajira Six – as the media had 
insisted on calling them – had returned to civilization. She 
had been arrested almost immediately for violating the terms of 
her parole. The second hearing went much the same as the first 
except for two significant differences.

Jack was not there to testify on her behalf. Claire did an 
admirable job in his stead, though, explaining that Kate had 
refused to accept Claire’s presumed death and risked her life 
to save her. The tears in the blonde’s eyes as she’d described 
how she had given up all hope of ever seeing her son again 
until Kate had rescued her was what really sold it. She’d made 
Kate sound like a hero riding in on a white horse to save the 
day.

The second difference was that Kate no longer cared what the 
verdict was. She had watched dispassionately as Claire, 
Claire’s mother and Cassidy all testified on her behalf. She 
had watched her lawyer once again paint her as the saintly 
leader – a woman who had defied the odds and risked everything 
to do what was right for the child she had cared for in his 
mother’s absence. None of it mattered anymore. Jack was dead. 
Aaron had been reunited with his real mother. There was nothing 
left to give her purpose.

Then Sawyer had wormed his way back into her life.

He had moved in with her, despite her half-hearted objections, 
and proceeded to force her back into the world. He dragged her 
to social events and dinners at fancy restaurants (“all on 
Ajira’s dime” he’d said with a smirk). Kate had suspected 
Claire had something to do with his sudden interest in her 
happiness.

She had resented it. He was just trying to make her forget 
everything she had lost, everything she’d left behind and move 
on, she’d thought. When she finally snapped at him to leave her 
*alone*, damnit, he had brought up the one subject they hadn’t 
dared talk to each other about since their return.

“You think I don’t miss ‘im too?” he had yelled.

She had broken down then, crying in his arms while he’d told 
her – his voice breaking and strained – that she and Jack had 
been his only friends in the world after they’d crashed on the 
island.

“You said you wanted him to suffer,” she’d hissed. “You told 
those people at the temple...”

“I was pissed off. After Juliet...” He’d swallowed heavily, his 
jaw tightening at the memory. “I was lookin’ for someone to 
blame. But when I saw him bleedin’ in your arms...” His voice 
had dropped, taking on a dark tone she had only heard him use 
once before. “I wanted that bastard wearin’ Locke’s body to 
move just so I could shoot ‘im myself.”

She had stopped resisting his efforts to reassimilate her into 
the world of the living after that and he had stopped pushing 
her quite so hard. They had fallen back into something like a 
shadow of their former relationship. Two broken, damaged people 
finding comfort and solace in each other’s arms.

It had been nearly two months since they had returned when 
everything had changed. 

The details of that moment were burned on her memory. The cup 
falling from her nerveless fingers to shatter on the parquet 
floor. The freshly poured coffee splattering across her bare 
feet. Sawyer rushing down the stairs to find her standing, 
half-dressed in his button down shirt in the middle of the 
kitchen, staring at the newspaper clutched in her trembling 
hands.

The article had said that a small raft carrying two men had 
washed up on the shore of a tiny island in the South Pacific. 
One of the men was identified as Desmond Hume – the late 
Charles Widmore’s son-in-law - who had mysteriously disappeared 
two months before. The other man was not identified by name. 
All that was known was that he was in a coma – seemingly as a 
result of a nearly fatal stab wound.

Somehow, Sawyer had convinced her to calm down and get dressed 
while he made a series of phone calls to the newspaper, an 
airline and at least three hospitals. 

Late that evening, she had stood beside a hospital bed, staring 
down at a face she had just begun to accept she would never see 
again. 

Sawyer had helped her into a chair before she collapsed and 
stood beside her as she had rested her head on Jack’s broad 
chest and cried herself to exhaustion.

He shouldn’t have been alive, the doctors kept saying. He’d 
lost too much blood...his body had taken too great a beating. 
They had told her he might never wake up. She had nodded, 
quietly accepting their diagnosis, even as her mind railed 
against it. This was *Jack*, after all. He was a fighter.

Sawyer had agreed and they had both spent countless hours at 
his bedside, talking to him, touching him, helping the nurses 
with his care. The parallels between their drive to coax him 
back to the waking world and Sawyer’s drive to drag Kate from 
her self-imposed isolation were not lost on her. 

Now, two months after Jack had been miraculously returned to 
them, it appeared their efforts had finally paid off.

Kate sat beside the hospital bed, nursing her third cup of 
coffee. At least the hospital claimed it was coffee – a fact 
she had disputed many times over the past months. Jack lay 
half-curled, facing her. She had barely had time to really 
accept that Jack was gone before he had returned. Everything 
was still so surreal that part of her expected to wake up one 
day and realize it had all been a cruel dream. She let her eyes 
trace over his features, as she had nearly every day since his 
return. He was thinner, his hair longer. He looked older 
somehow. 

Her breath caught as Jack’s eyes fluttered ever so slightly. It 
could have been nothing, she knew. But regardless, she held 
perfectly still, barely breathing, and waited. She was just 
beginning to think she may have imagined it after all when his 
lids fluttered again – this time accompanied by a tiny, breathy 
moan. 

Kate set her cup on the tray table absently as she crouched by 
the bed, her face inches from his. “Jack,” she called softly, 
letting her fingertips brush his cheek gently.

Jack inhaled sharply and Kate caught the barest hint of 
greenish brown before his eyes squeezed shut with a wince. The 
lights in the room had been dimmed considerably, but after 
months in a coma, Jack’s eyes were sensitive to any sensory 
input.

“K...Kay...” The sound was so soft, Kate could barely hear it, 
but it was unmistakeable.

Tears sprang to Kate’s eyes and her hands trembled as she swept 
back a lock of his hair. She may have refused to believe he 
could die, but a part of her had feared it was inevitable. She 
had been braced for that possibility, anticipating the 
potential fallout from having her heart broken all over again. 
But now, she felt the lingering fear - and the accompanying 
desire to get as far away from the source of it as possible - 
finally melt away. 

“Yeah,” she choked out. “It’s me. I’m here.” ‘You’re here.’

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently. She felt him 
squeeze back – weak, but definitely deliberate – and the tears 
broke free, spilling down her cheeks.

“Where...”

Kate sniffled lightly, swiping at her cheek with her free hand. 
“Uh...we’re back in Los Angeles. St. Sebastien’s.”

“Sawyer...”

Kate smiled. He remembered. “He’s at a job interview. He’ll be 
back this afternoon.” She thought of the look on Sawyer’s face 
when he’d told her Jack had woken up. He had been practically 
bursting with excitement. They would need official confirmation 
from the doctors, but so far it seemed that Jack’s mental 
faculties were intact.

She leaned in to kiss him, surprised to discover he had morning 
breath. ‘Nobody’s brushed his teeth today,’ she thought. Then 
she realized, with a smile, that he could do that for himself 
again and made a mental note to help him with that later. 

Jack tried to kiss her back, but it was obviously taking all of 
what little energy he had to speak. “What...happ’ned,” he 
forced out when she pulled back. 

“I don’t know. They found you in the jungle. Hurley and Ben. 
You were breathing, but they couldn’t wake you up. Desmond 
brought you home.” She stroked his cheek, squeezing his hand 
gently as he struggled to speak again.

“How...long...”

“Four months. You’ve been in a coma for four months.”

Jack nodded, his eyes fluttering shut, obviously exhausted by 
their brief conversation. “Sorry...”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Kate murmured, kissing his forehead. “Go back 
to sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

But he didn’t seem to hear her. “Forgot...pick up...David...”

Kate frowned. The hand she had been stroking Jack’s hair with 
absently hesitated. “David?”

Jack muttered something indistinct. Kate swore she heard the 
words “piano lesson”. 

And then all hell broke loose.

Tremors rolled over Jack’s body. His hand went limp in her 
grasp. The monitor next to the bed began to beep frantically.

Everything happened quickly after that. Kate ran for the door, 
a desperate scream for help on her lips, but the nurses were 
already headed her way. One was Victoria, the serene, striking 
woman with mocha colored skin who Kate had gotten to know 
pretty well over the past months. The others, she barely 
recognized.

Victoria pulled her aside and spoke in soothing tones, but she 
couldn’t understand the words.

“He was fine,” she kept babbling. “He was talking to me.”

She was bordering on hysterics by the time Jack stopped 
shaking, even though the entire episode had probably lasted 
well under five minutes. It took five more minutes for Victoria 
to calm her down.

Her heart was still pounding when Sawyer arrived an hour later.

*************
Part 3: Sawyer


Late onset Epilepsy. That’s what the doctor’s ultimately 
diagnosed Jack with. That along with partial hearing loss in 
one ear and a total loss of his sense of smell.

Sawyer had spent the better part of that first night reassuring 
Kate that Jack would be all right, cursing the fact that he 
hadn’t been there for either of them when all hell had broken 
loose. He tried to make up for it by throwing himself into 
Jack’s rehabilitation, all but taking charge of his physical 
therapy. Much to Jack’s irritation. Of course, everything 
irritated Jack once he was fully cognizant. The saying turned 
out to be true in his case; doctors really did make the worst 
patients. Of course, Sawyer believed that had less to do with 
the fact that he was a doctor and more to do with the fact that 
he was a stubborn son of a bitch who would rather fall on his 
face than admit he needed help.

The first time he'd kissed Jack it was to make him shut up. It 
had worked. So well, in fact, that Sawyer had found himself 
wishing he'd tried it before. 

It was easier than any of them would have expected after that. 
Once the hospital discharged Jack, Sawyer and Kate took him 
home where he insisted on acting like a guest until the night 
Sawyer crawled into the guest bed with him and told him to 
"shove it" when he protested. It still took some coaxing from 
both Sawyer and Kate to get him to join them in their king-
sized bed. None of them made any overtly sexual moves 
initially, content with more simple displays of affection. The 
shift toward a more sexual relationship came gradually after 
that.

Now, two years later, Sawyer marveled at how far they had come. 
He lay on one side of the bed, stripped down to his boxers, 
fighting the urge to touch himself as he watched Jack and Kate. 
Kate writhed beneath Jack, arching into his slow, rolling 
thrusts, her legs wrapped high around his waist, her nails 
digging tiny half moons on his back. Jack was always so gentle 
with Kate, like she was something fragile - precious. She loved 
it, but she also loved it when Sawyer fucked her hard and fast 
and desperate - leaving bruises that were still visible the 
next day. 

Her eyes met Sawyer's as Jack kissed her neck, her eyes so dark 
with arousal they appeared black in the soft light of the 
bedroom. There was something inherently wild about her - 
something Jack could only pretend he had any control over and 
Sawyer didn't even try to. Watching her in these intimate 
moments was fascinating. And Jack...Sawyer let his eyes trace 
the lines of Jack's body, watching the muscles flex beneath his 
skin as he moved. He wasn't sure which he wanted more; to be 
where Kate was, feeling that power surging over him, inside him 
or to be inside Jack, feeling those muscles tremble beneath 
him, around him, making Jack writhe with mindless pleasure. He 
had already been in Jack's place earlier in the evening.

Kate growled and began pushing and pulling at Jack's shoulders 
insistently. "Over," she said until Jack finally took the hint 
and rolled off of her, landing on his back beside Sawyer. He 
hissed as his cock slipped free into the cool air, then groaned 
as Kate straddled him, taking him back into her wet heat. She 
paused for a moment, pushing her hair back away from her face 
and bracing her palms against Jack's chest before she began 
moving again, her thrusts just as slow as his had been but more 
forceful, purposeful. She glanced at Sawyer. "You just gonna 
lay there," she panted.

Sawyer smiled and reached for her thigh, letting his fingers 
dance lightly along her damp skin. "I'm enjoyin' the show."

Jack - obviously too far gone for subtlety - grabbed Sawyer's 
wandering hand and thrust it between Kate's legs, pressing his 
fingers against her swollen clit. She gasped and picked up the 
pace.

"Well, if you insist..." He sat up and moved behind Kate, 
straddling Jack's thighs. She sat back, sinking into his chest, 
her head falling on his shoulder, sighing as his hands 
immediately went to her breasts, fingers deftly manipulating 
her erect nipples. Kate sighed and plunged her fingers into his 
hair, drawing him into a sloppy kiss.

Sawyer heard Jack groan and saw a flash of movement from the 
corner of his eye. He didn't need to look to know what he was 
doing. Kate's hand tightened in his hair, her rolling thrusts 
growing erratic. "That's it," he coaxed between kisses, his 
voice low, almost a growl. He kept up his manipulation of her 
breast with one hand, letting the other smooth down her 
stomach, his fingers gently curling in the trimmed hair above 
Jack's working hand.

She came with a wild yell, writhing mindlessly against them. 
Jack cried out shortly after, arching up toward her. Sawyer 
watched as the pleasure washed over both of their faces, Kate's 
eyes sliding shut while Jack's grew glassy and distant. They 
were both so beautiful...

He swallowed a groan as his cock throbbed. He had already come 
earlier in the evening, but he was ready to go another round. 

He felt Kate's body go boneless in his arms and eased her down 
on top of Jack, crawling back to lay on the empty bed beside 
them. He watched them slowly come back to themselves, sharing 
breathless kisses. Jack swept her hair back tenderly and 
nuzzled her cheek.

Sawyer gave in to the impulse to touch himself then - pushing 
his boxers down his hips and fisting his cock almost lazily. He 
bit back a groan as Kate's hooded gaze met his, then hissed as 
she suddenly reached for his wrist, stalling his movements.

"Wait," she murmured almost sleepily. "Not like that."

Sawyer's lips curled into a smirk. "You ready to go again 
already?"

"Mmm, no. I wanna watch." She pushed herself up enough that she 
could look into Jack's eyes. "That okay?"

They both knew what Jack's answer would be before he gave it. 
He could never deny Kate anything. He nodded and kissed her one 
last time - a sweet, almost chaste kiss - before she slipped 
off of him and sprawled comfortably on the other side of the 
bed.

Jack turned to Sawyer and started to sit up. Sawyer could see 
what he intended to do but that wasn't what he wanted this 
time. He stopped Jack with a hand on his shoulder, gently 
pushing him back down.

"What..." Jack's protest cut off abruptly as Sawyer bent to 
kiss him. He sighed and closed his eyes as Sawyer trailed 
kisses across his cheek and gently nibbled his ear. 

"Lady wants a show, Doc," Sawyer breathed, feeling Jack shiver 
slightly. 

He took his time, slowly working his way down Jack's body with 
soft kisses and gentle bites, running his fingertips reverently 
over the scar on his abdomen. A tiny, high pitch noise escaped 
Jack as he ran his tongue along the length of his soft cock, 
tasting both him and Kate. There was no need for condoms 
between the three of them anymore. He glanced up at Kate as he 
swallowed Jack's length. The faint light of the bedroom glinted 
off her dark eyes, making them appear to twinkle as she smiled 
at him. His view was blocked suddenly when Jack reached to 
tangle his fingers in his hair. He refocused on the doctor, 
working him over, taking him deep and then pulling back to 
swirl his tongue around the sensitive head, feeling Jack's cock 
begin to thicken again, his moans growing deeper, more 
abandoned. Kate must have seen the shift too, because he heard 
her rummage around in the bedside drawer. He knew what she was 
looking for and sat up as she rolled back toward them with a 
tube of lubricant.

"Gettin' impatient there, Freckles?"

She held the tube out to him, looking not the least bit 
embarrassed even if her cheeks did redden a little.

Sawyer didn't take it. "How 'bout you do it for me?" Her eyes 
darkened, darting to Jack for a moment, her lips parting with 
her almost imperceptibly quickening breaths. Sawyer smiled and 
added "that sound like a fair trade?"

Understanding crossed her face and she nodded, flipping open 
the cap and squeezing lube onto her palm without any further 
hesitation. 

Sawyer crawled up the bed and kissed Jack hungrily, swallowing 
his groans as Kate began to stretch him. He worked his way down 
Jack's body slowly, with lingering kisses and teasing licks. He 
didn't have to look at Kate to know what she was doing. He felt 
Jack arch, his breath catching when she hit just the right 
spot...and grunt and squirm when she didn't. He loved having 
her do this. Her fingers weren't as thick as his, but she was 
just as merciless in her manipulations. She knew just how far 
and how hard to push Jack to drive him crazy without driving 
him over the edge.

He was so focused on his own administrations that he nearly 
jumped when Kate placed a gentle hand on his back. He looked up 
at her, dazed. She smiled and gave a little nod of her head. 
He's ready, the look clearly said. 

Sawyer crawled back toward her, kissing her hungrily while her 
wet hand wrapped around his straining erection, preparing him. 
He thought he could hear Jack groaning, but he couldn't be 
sure. It could have just as easily been his own voice.

She knew how to stop before she sent him over the edge too. 
Sawyer watched her crawl back toward her side of the bed before 
refocusing his attention on Jack. He knelt between his legs, 
gently pressing on the backs of his thighs to spread them 
further.

"I'm ready," Jack said before he could ask. "Fuck me."

Sawyer bit back a growl. He leaned over to grab the pillow from 
behind Jack's head, stuffing it under the former doctor's hips 
before lining himself up and shoving home in one powerful 
thrust. 

Jack cried out at the sudden invasion, his muscles spasming. 
"Oh, shit," he moaned, his back arching as Sawyer began to 
thrust. 

Sawyer caught his wrists and pinned them to the mattress beside 
his head, leaning low over him. "This what you wanted," he 
panted, nipping at Jack's parted lips.

Jack groaned and pulled against Sawyer's restraining hands, 
craning his head awkwardly to try to capture Sawyer's mouth. 
Sawyer kept staying stubbornly just out of reach though, 
teasing him with the barest touches of lips, tongue, teeth. He 
finally gave up and let his head fall back with a frustrated 
moan, his neck arching invitingly.

Sawyer chuckled breathlessly and licked at his throat. He 
spared a glance at Kate and grinned - as best he could in his 
advanced state of arousal. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes 
wide and dark. Her fingers twitched like she was barely 
resisting the urge to touch one or both of them. He looked her 
in the eye and nodded, silently granting permission for 
something she probably hadn't yet thought to ask for. She bit 
her lip and nodded back.

Sawyer gave one last nip to Jack's chin and pushed himself 
upright, sitting back.

Jack barely had time to register that his arms were free again 
before Sawyer resumed his slow, rolling thrusts, this time 
cupping Jack's hips, guiding his movements. 

Sawyer was just beginning to wonder if he had misread Kate's 
expression when suddenly she slipped against Jack's side and 
leaned in to kiss him, muffling the noises spilling from his 
lips. Her hand wandered to the knee closest to her, fingers 
absently tracing delicate patterns on the inside of Jack's 
thigh. He groaned and tangled his fingers in her hair, the kiss 
faltering as her hand trailed inward to wrap lightly around his 
renewed erection. Sawyer watched the movements of her hand - 
the teasing, too-gentle strokes - and slowed his thrusts to 
match her. 

Jack made a strangled noise of complaint and squirmed beneath 
them. His eyes met Sawyer's as Kate moved to kiss and lick her 
way down his body, his breath catching, then his head fell back 
with a groan as Kate's lips wrapped around his straining cock. 

Sawyer resumed watching what Kate was doing, trying to match 
his thrusts to her intensity. He wanted to comb his fingers 
through her hair, push the riot of mussed curls from her face 
so he could get a clear view of her lips stretched obscenely 
around Jack, but Jack's hips wouldn't stop twitching in his 
grip. He tightened his grip and spread his knees, adding a roll 
of his hips to every slow thrust, pushing against Jack's 
prostate.

"Fuck," Jack moaned, his back arching, his fingers twisting in 
the rumpled sheets. "Ka...oh...m...more."

Sawyer wasn't sure which of them he was referring to, but he 
took it as an invitation to thrust harder, picking up the pace 
a little. Kate pulled back and swirled her tongue around Jack's 
weeping tip before swallowing him down again, the move so 
obscene that it sent a shudder of pure, fiery lust through 
Sawyer that was only amplified by the deep, abandoned moan it 
drew from Jack.  She looked up at Sawyer from beneath her 
lashes, a wicked gleam in her eyes and he knew she had intended 
that little move to affect both of them.

It didn't take long for Jack to come apart. He shuddered and 
writhed as Sawyer continued to thrust and Kate gradually 
gentled her ministrations, easing him through the tremors 
until, overwhelmed, he begged her to stop. Sawyer let go then, 
thrusting mindlessly, barely registering that she had moved 
until her lips closed over his, her tongue plunging into his 
mouth, tangling with his, letting him taste the familiar, heady 
mixture of both of his lovers. He growled as he came, his 
uncoordinated thrusts slowing to a halt, his mouth going slack 
against hers. 

He pulled out, rubbing Jack's legs as he hissed in discomfort. 
No doubt they would all be feeling the effects of the last 
couple hours in the morning. He flopped to the bed beside the 
doctor, panting as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. "Yer 
both gonna kill me."

Jack squeezed his knee - the closest part of him he could reach 
with the minimal amount of effort - and Kate smiled, bending to 
kiss him again, this time sweetly and chastely. "I'm gonna take 
a shower while you catch your breath," she teased. She let her 
fingers trail along Jack's arm as she slipped from the bed.

"Just don't use all the hot water," Sawyer called after her. He 
reached for the box of tissues they kept near the bed and wiped 
the worst of the stickiness from his skin before offering a 
handful to Jack. "You okay?"

Jack smiled and nodded wearily, handing the soiled tissues back 
to Sawyer to throw in the waste basket before easing himself 
from the other side of the bed, fishing in a drawer of the 
nearby dresser for a cigarette and his lighter.

Sawyer watched him, noting the slight stumble in his gait as he 
moved closer to the window. Kate had given up asking Jack to 
quit smoking, but Jack had agreed to do whatever he could to 
minimize the amount of second-hand smoke in the house. She 
still didn't like that he did it - or that Sawyer occasionally 
stole one from him - but she didn't say anything. They all 
pretended the reason for her acceptance of this habit wasn't 
that they knew it couldn't shorten his life expectancy any more 
than it already was. 

If you have a condition that could cause you to drop dead 
suddenly at any time, you stop worrying about the possibility 
of a slow-killer like cancer.

Sawyer bit back a groan as he followed, his muscles starting to 
complain from the overuse. Jack wordlessly handed him the lit 
cigarette as Sawyer leaned on the rail of the false balcony 
beside him. Sawyer took a puff and handed it back, exhaling 
slowly.

"Show off."

Sawyer smirked. "Hey, I ain't the one who came twice in an 
hour. Not sure you should be doin' marathons like that at your 
age. And don't even think 'bout puttin' the blame on me when 
you can't walk tomorrow. That was all you. Well, you and 
Freckles."

Jack snorted and took a long drag from the cigarette, staring 
into the distance, lost in thought. 

Sawyer reached over to rub the small of Jack's back. "Sure 
you're okay?"

Jack sighed and arched slightly into the pressure of Sawyer's 
hand. "Just thinking."

"'bout what?"

"This...us. The island. Hurley." 

Sawyer sighed. "Thought we talked about this. It ain't your 
fault."

"I know. I just don't understand. I should have died. I had 
accepted that I had to die to save the rest of you..."

"Hey." Sawyer framed Jack's face between his hands and forced 
his head to turn, meeting his pained gaze. "We all got 
survivor's guilt. That don't mean we can't make the best outta 
the time we still got here." He kissed Jack almost chastely. 
"Me 'n Kate were more 'n happy to get you back for however much 
time we could get and I don't give a damn if that makes us 
selfish."

Jack's lips twitched in a half-hearted smile. Sawyer let his 
hands fall and they simply leaned against each other in 
companionable silence for a while, passing the cigarette 
between them. "You ever wonder what our lives would have been 
like if we hadn't crashed," Jack asked suddenly. 

"No."

Jack blinked at him, silently prompting him to continue.

Sawyer shrugged. "It ain't worth thinkin' about. You guys were 
the best thing to happen to me. All o' you. Yeah, a lot of 
awful shit happened on that island, but if we hadn't'a crashed 
there I never would'a met you, Kate, Hugo, Juliet..." His voice 
cracked and he coughed lightly to cover it. "Jin...your 
sister...Yeah, we lost some of 'em. But we wouldn't 'a known 
'em at all if it hadn't been for that hellhole bringin' us all 
together." He took a long drag from the cigarette and let his 
fingers linger on Jack's as he passed it back. "I got a lotta 
regrets, but that ain't one of 'em."

Sawyer watched Jack idly trace the grain of wood in the 
banister as they lapsed back into silence. He knew Jack was 
conflicted on this point. He felt an unjustified amount of 
responsibility for everything that had happened to them. As if 
he was responsible for all the heartache and death they had 
experienced and he would accept the alternative of never having 
known any of them if it meant he could undo all the pain and 
suffering that had come with their stay on the island. 

"Did you pick up David from school," Jack asked suddenly, 
interrupting Sawyer's train of thought. 

Even though this scenario had played out enough times that 
Sawyer recognized the warning signs immediately, it never 
failed to send a chill down his back. He grabbed the cigarette 
from Jack's fingers and stubbed it out on the banister, forcing 
himself to stay calm as he guided Jack away from the window and 
back toward the bed.

Jack made noises of protest, confused. "What are you..." His 
face went slack suddenly and Sawyer barely managed to get him 
onto the bed before his eyes rolled and his limbs started to 
twitch. 

"Kate," Sawyer called as he rolled Jack onto his side.

Kate, recognizing the tone of Sawyer's voice, emerged from the 
bathroom still tying the sash from her robe around her waist, 
droplets of water clinging to the ends of her hair. She headed 
straight for the dresser, retrieving Jack's medication, filling 
the syringe with practiced efficiency and barely having to 
pause once she returned to the bed before jabbing it into 
Jack's shoulder. "How long?"

"'bout a minute," Sawyer replied, not taking his eyes from the 
bedside clock.

The seizure lasted another full minute before ending as 
abruptly as it had started. Sawyer crawled tentatively back 
onto the bed, watching for any lingering spasms, and pressed 
carefully against his back. Kate gently pried his mouth open to 
check the damage to his tongue and then slipped onto the bed in 
front of him, her fingers delicately tracing the lines of his 
face, watching his fluttering eyelids for signs of returning 
awareness.

"He mentioned David again," Sawyer whispered.

Kate gave him a sad look. "That one wasn't as bad as the last 
one," she said with a hollow sort of hope. She knew the 
seizures would never go away. She knew that one day Jack would 
have one so severe that he simply wouldn't wake up and there 
was nothing any of them could do about it. But she held on to 
the hope that that final seizure would happen sometime during 
the night when he was asleep and blissfully unaware. That hope 
was two parts a wish that he would suffer as little as possible 
- merely go to sleep and not wake up the next morning - and one 
part a selfish desire to not have to witness it.

Jack regained consciousness two minutes after the seizure 
ended, announcing his return with a weak groan.

"S'okay, Doc," Sawyer murmured, his hand coming around to rub 
Jack's chest soothingly. "Y' had a seizure. We're here. 
Breathe."

Kate stroked his arms and squeezed his hands reassuringly, 
kissing his knuckles. "You're okay," she added. "It's gonna be 
okay."


*****************
Epilogue


One year after Jack came home from the hospital, Kate announced 
she was pregnant. She offered to get a paternity test, but both 
men brushed off the idea. Kate secretly hoped it was Jack's - 
if for no other reason then it meant part of him would get to 
live on in spite of everything. She suspected Sawyer felt the 
same way, but neither of them spoke of it. 

Whenever the topic of names came up, they found it easy to come 
up with one they could all agree on if the baby was a girl - 
Juliet - but much more difficult if the baby was a boy. Jack 
was opposed to the idea of naming him after either himself or 
his father, feeling that the child should have his own identity 
unencumbered by their baggage. Since neither Kate or Sawyer had 
male relatives they felt worthy of having their child named 
after him, they had to agree. Even though it felt strange and 
they all rebelled against the idea of unavoidable destiny it 
suggested, there was one name they kept coming back to so often 
that they finally decided it was the best fit.

David Hugo Austin was three years old when Jack died. As Kate 
had hoped, he went in his sleep, although due to his already 
failing health he was in the hospital at the time. Kate was at 
home with David - at Sawyer's insistence - when it happened. 
Sawyer's voice was rough and tired when he called from the 
hospital early in the morning. He told her later that he had 
stayed up all night talking to him, even though Jack wasn't 
cognizant for most of it. He had made promises to take care of 
both Kate and David, to make sure David knew who his daddy had 
been and just how much he had meant to them all.

What he left out was the other promise he made in the middle of 
the night when Jack had started whispering in broken fragments 
about Juliet and his father, as if he knew he was closer to 
them in that moment than any of the people he was leaving 
behind. In that moment, Sawyer forgot that he didn't really 
believe in any sort of afterlife and asked Jack to wait for 
them. If it turned out there was something waiting for them 
after death, he promised he would not rest until he found Jack, 
Kate and Juliet again. "And if you can find Muhammed, Jin and 
Hugo while you're at it, I'd like to see 'em again." 

He had meant what he had said to Jack that day. The island may 
have kicked up a storm of shit in all of their lives, but it 
had also brought them all together. It was both the worst and 
the best experience of his life. And if there was something 
after this world, he could not imagine experiencing it without 
the people he had come to think of as his friends and family.

****************

Juliet was pretty sure she had never been so exhausted in her 
life. But she couldn't sleep. Not yet.

She smiled as her husband pressed a kiss to her sweaty temple 
and murmured "you're incredible."

"Dad, do you want to hold him," the attending doctor asked.

Jack squeezed her hand and turned to accept the whimpering 
bundle the nurse handed him, his movements hesitant and 
awkward, as if he was being handed something extremely fragile 
and was terrified of dropping it. He held the baby for a while 
as the full weight of the moment settled on him. Tears sprang 
to his eyes and he grinned at the impossibly small human with 
dark fuzz for hair. He bent over the bed again, carefully 
transferring the bundle into Juliet's arms, but unable to bring 
himself to take his own hands away.

"Have you picked out a name yet," one of the nurses asked as 
she checked the monitor beside the bed.

They had discussed many possibilities, but now as Juliet looked 
down at their child, only one of them seemed right. 

"David. David Shephard."


THE END