Disclaimer: Lost is owned by ABC Television and was created by Jeffrey Lieber, J. J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof, produced by Bad Robot Productions. I don't own it but I love it!

A/N: Chapter 1 is the one main scene borrowed from canon. This an AU story starting Chaper 2.

To help any readers the show writers' storyboard timeline included Locke/Bentham's death occurring on Friday 11-16-07 and Ajira 316 flight by Friday 11-23-07. It's literally listed Day 1, Day 2, etc. and what happened each day and which episode it refers to. It's confusing watching show with the flash-forwards for the time-frame sprinkled through end S3 to S4, plus we missed out on several S4 episodes due to the industry writers' strike. :( They completed filming 8 out of 22 episodes and cobbled together 14. We were robbed.

Jack's addiction had graduated to opioids (Oxycodone per canon vs. the initial Clonzepam canon. He was stealing some in the hospital in the show.) Note that Jack and Kate were living together in August 2007, engaged September 2007 and broke up the same month per writer's storyboard canon if that helps too. The lapse is just under 2 months before the scene in Chapter 1.

Thank you in advance for reading and if you take time to review! :)

This story is dedicated to Tangler, talented writer and friend. (Check out her stories!)

"I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom." ― Edgar Allan Poe

November 17, 2007, 7:35 p.m.

It was a long day. Kate was already tired. Jack kept calling her over and over. She wanted to turn her ringer off, but she couldn't. It was Jack. He was out of his mind with pills and booze.

She couldn't turn her back on him completely, even with the mix of strong emotions stewing inside of her. ranging from anger to abandonment to deep sorrow. There was a gaping hole in her heart only he could fill.

Aaron was the one thing keeping her grounded and from falling apart. She would do anything to give him a stable life. That meant she had to be steady. Her son was motivation for her to keep moving forward despite the crater left in Jack's wake when he moved out.

Jack predictably called her again that evening. She saw the caller ID and was tempted to send him to voicemail. For some reason, unknown to even herself, she picked up. "Hello." Her voice sounded flat. Her feelings walled off.

What Kate couldn't see was Jack sitting on the floor of his apartment. His sink was full of empty alcohol bottles and plates with molding food. The faucet dripped continually in need of attention. The once neat and orderly man had mentally fallen into a deep, dark pit.

Maps, every article and book he could find about islands of the Pacific were strewn thickly on his condominium floor. He had to step on them to get anywhere. Jack sat in a dirty, white tank top and dress pants. He sported an unkempt beard on his previously clean-shaven face. His eyes were full of tears.

"Hello? It's me." He was startled and grateful she answered.

"Jack, it's late. I can't do this right now." She was frustrated. It was almost Aaron's bedtime. He knew she kept him in a routine.

In reality, Kate couldn't take another night of non-stop calls and no sleep. She would end up crying, holding Jack's pillow in bed and be sick and with a headache by morning.

Anything affecting her trickled down to Aaron. She had too many nighttime crying jags already, even without Jack's calls. She missed the Jack she fell in love on the island. Their airplane crashed there almost three years ago.

To top it off, a virus swept through the kids in the neighborhood. Kate was starting to feel the symptoms after nursing Aaron through it.

"Whoa, whoa! Wait. Don't ... don't hang up, please," he begged.

"Jack, you can't keep calling me like this." She could tell from his slurred words he was drinking. Kate wiped the tears on her cheeks. She wanted to end the call.

"I know what you said. I just ... I just need to see you, please?" Jack's eyes filled with tears. He had something to show her. But it was more than that.

He cried because he felt like the ultimate failure. Everything he touched turned to shit.

He screwed up their relationship on top of everything else over the past few months. Kate meant everything to him and he pissed it all away not to mention his job. He was forced to go on paid medical leave.

Seeing Kate, her beauty and mesmerizing green eyes gave him a fix. Even if she was upset with him.

Being near her reminded him of better times when things felt right. She was almost his wife before he fucked it up. They were engaged and planned to marry shortly afterwards.

Two months. It had already been two months since the split.

Kate took a deep breath and reluctantly agreed. "Okay. Where do you want to meet? Near the airport?" He liked a spot on an LAX service road. He could watch the planes take off directly above him.

"Yeah, yeah, out at the airport. You know where." Jack sighed with relief. "Thank you." He hung up. The overwhelming need to see Kate was about to be met.

He hung up and looked at his place but didn't see it. Garbage covered every surface. Maps were pinned to the wall. His couch-turned-make-shift-bed fell on blind eyes.

All he could see was her face.

Kate could hear his tears on the phone. It tore at her heart to listen much less see him so broken. He spiraled down so fast it was dizzying. She didn't know what to do anymore. It was like she was dealing with a shell resembling him. She tried to suppress her feelings but was afraid. What would happen to him?

Jack wasn't lucid the majority of times she talked with him. He refused therapy. He wouldn't tell her what was eating him up before or after the breakup.

Instead, he turned to pills and booze to numb his feelings when they were engaged. His dad was an alcoholic. Christian abused alcohol for decades before going on the ultimate bender. It ended his life in Sydney.

Jack was already genetically susceptible. He fell into it after almost 17 years of moderation followed by forced sobriety on the island. He was a few weeks shy of his 38th birthday in a few weeks. December 3rd.

Kate still loved Jack. She could forgive him for his words and abandoning her but not hurting Aaron. Not yet. Not unless he made things right. Her anger and hurt went much deeper than him choosing drinking and pills over her and Aaron. She grew up with an alcoholic, abusive step-father. She would never allow Aaron to grow up in a household like hers. Even if it broke her heart.

Jack couldn't live there if he chose alcohol. But it didn't mean he had to move. She wanted him to at least be working on recovery and sobriety. She would have supported him through it every step of the way.

Instead, Jack chose to leave them both minutes after she uttered the words. She couldn't have it around her son. He looked torn when he left. His conscience pricked him when Aaron wandered in. He turned and slowly walked out the front door and their lives. She held Aaron and sobbed.

No apologies. No cooling off period. No heart to heart. It was devastating.

To top it off, he completely turned his back on the baffled 2 year-old who worshipped him. Aaron lost the closest thing he had to a father. He was Jack's flesh and blood nephew. Jack completely ignored the baby's feelings and the impact on him.

Aaron did nothing to deserve this. Once again, her little love was abandoned. She grew up with abandonment issues and didn't want Aaron to suffer the same. But it was out of her control.

Kate didn't blame Claire for leaving him. Aaron was barely two months old. Jack's half-sister was under the influence of a person she thought was her father on the island. She vanished without a trace after leaving Aaron in the jungle along a boar path.

She didn't exactly blame Jack. She blamed the disease.

He was literally "under the influence" of something they could have fought together, a disease that took his father. It left a lifetime of hurt. He saw the consequences of his Dad's drunkenness. He was highly intelligent and knew how easy it was to fall prey to it.

But there's no reasoning with someone who was high, inebriated or both. She had tried several times despite the futility. Catching him sober was rare. He started drinking soon after he woke up.

Her ex-fiancé sounded somewhat lucid on the call tonight. But she was wary about why he wanted to meet. What did he want to say? She steeled herself, already feeling vulnerable. It cut her to the core to see him near rock bottom. She didn't know how to save him. The man who saved so many was self-destructing.

She still loved him. Train-wreck or not, he would always be her Jack.

Her first call was to Veronica, Aaron's nanny, to come sit with him briefly. She lived 10 minutes away. The thought of bringing her adopted son didn't cross her mind.

Aaron had his bath and was playing quietly in his room wearing Spiderman pajamas. He liked going through books while choosing a bedtime story. He held his stuffed whale while asking it for a second opinion.

Kate took a quick look in the mirror and smoothed down her sleeveless, byzantine blue shirt she had worn all day with jeans.

Hopefully this meeting would end the onslaught of calls. She counted 47 missed calls from Jack just from today. She couldn't make a single phone call without him ringing her. His repeat dialing blocked anyone else from getting through.

What was so important he had to see her right now?

Kate waited for Veronica while sitting with Aaron. She fidgeted and felt anxious. Her stomach churned. She went to the bathroom, took Tums and felt her forehead. No fever yet, thank goodness. The virus was the last thing she needed. Thank God for Veronica being in their lives. She had become a second mom to Aaron.

Kate chewed on the chalky tablets, her mind resisting memories she mentally wanted to avoid. It went back a few months ago. Images of Jack reading to Aaron, to their evening conversations to catch up and intimacy ranging from things as benign as cuddling to out of control lovemaking and sex. Both ached to get closer, closing any and every gap between them until they were one.

She shook her head to clear it.

His presence still permeated the house. She didn't packed his clothes. They were in the dresser and closet where he left them. The smell of his aftershave lingered on a few of his suits. His toiletries were still in the bathroom under his side of the double vanity. Even his shampoo and body wash were sitting on a shelf in the shower.

She was tempted to put away some of his belongings but couldn't erase him from her life.

It felt wrong, like cutting of a limb. She didn't have the heart to do it.

Jack was already at the airport. She wasn't surprised. His condo was closer, but he didn't have to wait for a nanny.

Aaron was upset when she left. She wanted to make it back in time to tuck him in. Just in case, Veronica offered to stay the night to give Kate extra time.

She parked her Volvo near the end of the service road and emerged from the shadows. She approaching his beat-up 1971 Ford Bronco.

He stepped out of his vehicle when she parked. Between the beard, frowsy hair, half-tucked-in tank top and unzipped jacket, he was nearly unrecognizable in the dim light. Jack Shephard no longer looked like a doctor. He was starting to resemble a junkie.

They met under a light illuminating the tall, chain-link fence.

"Hey." She said, smiling tentatively, the sentiment not reaching her eyes. She took in his disheveled appearance. It physically hurt to see him this way. Her eyes took in the circles under his glassy, brown eyes. He had lost weight. Was he eating or sleeping? Kate tried to brace herself. She didn't want to make a scene or cry.

Jack smiled and looked at her, drinking in every detail of her appearance. Her figure, the straightened, auburn-brown hair curling under at the bottom and her face with just a touch of makeup. She was the most beautiful woman he knew. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. He could smell a trace of vanilla, her favorite body lotion.

She used to be his future, his everything, but now...

Seeing her like this, talking to her, almost made him feel whole again. But the overwhelming guilt and self-hatred for hurting her surfaced. His inability to clean up and make things right weighed heavily on him and pulled him down.

He was physically unable to plant his feet in the confident stance that used to add poise and power to his 6'2" frame. Instead, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his shoulders slumped as he visually took her in.

"You look terrible." She couldn't lie to him. Jack was still there but buried beneath the debris of his life. She saw a flash of the real Jack sometimes but less often as the weeks passed. It used to give her hope he was fixable. Her hopes began to dwindle.

Jack laughed with self-depreciation. He knew he was a mess but didn't care about his appearance anymore. "Thanks." At least he could rely on Kate to speak plainly. It wasn't a comment out of meanness or spite but care.

"Why did you call me, Jack?" She didn't want to drag out the conversation and hoped it wasn't about the same old thing. His obsession.

Jack reached into both jacket pockets, fumbling around. One hand came out with a crumpled, hand-torn piece of newspaper. His hand shook slightly when he handed it over. "I was hoping you'd heard. That maybe you'd go to the funeral."

Kate read the clipping as he talked. Her eyes rose to meet his. He was sorely mistaken. "Why would I go to the funeral?"

Jack nodded. He understood why she wouldn't go. He saw Locke a few days ago. They weren't friends, but he said things. Things resonating in Jack's mind. He felt obligated to attend. He sniffed, his nose starting to run a little. He took the clipping back shakily and stuffed it in his pocket. Silence fell between them for several seconds. She finally looked away.

Jack wanted more time with her. He looked at the sky before his eyes dropped and traced her lovely countenance. "I've been flying a lot." He thought it was the best way to explain what was on his mind - his new focus since Locke's visit.

Kate's look changed to confusion. "What?"

He nodded his head oblivious to her raised brows. He glanced at her then off into distance again. He dug a deeper to answer her question. "Yeah, the Golden Pass they gave us. I ... I've been using it. Every Friday night I ... I fly from L.A. to Tokyo or Singapore, Sydney..."

He laughed bitterly. "And then I ... I get off, and I have a drink. And then I fly home." His eyes rested on her when he said the last few words.

"Why?" Kate was perplexed and worried.

Jack finally met her gaze and didn't break it. His eyes welled up when the words tumbled out. "Because I want it to crash, Kate." He stepped closer while shrugging his shoulders. "I don't care about anybody else on board."

Her eyes grew damp as he continued. This was not Jack speaking.

"Every little bump we hit or turbulence, I mean, I..." He gestured to his forehead, trying to emphasize how much he wanted it to happen. "I actually close my eyes, and I pray that I can get back." His breath hitched and tears threatened to fall.

Kate was near tears. The fact the man she loved was driven to fatalistic thinking was incomprehensible. Jack blamed himself when a survivor died, even though it wasn't his fault. He always felt guilty. And now he didn't care about losing a plane load of people?

"This is not going to change." She mentally implored him to listen. They had this conversation dozens of times about his need to go back. His obsession won't change without help.

"No, I'm sick of lying!" He raised his voice, impassioned. "We made a mistake." He felt sick inside - devoid of purpose or function. He had no job. No calling in life. He just existed. Jack filled the emptiness with alcohol, prescription meds and sleepless nights trying to figure out how to return. But nothing filled the void inside.

He was convinced returning was the answer. John Locke was right about not leaving the island. It wasn't just him. They all had to return.

But having her close to him, talking to him, almost did fill the gaping void. It made the voices in his head quiet down temporarily. Until now. They ruthlessly hijacked his brain during his confession and took over the words pouring out of his mouth.

She felt like she was on a hamster wheel. It was the same conversation again and again. It was "The Lie." He had asked her if she "was with him" to convince Hurley, Sayid and Sun after they were rescued. Jack planned it out. He said he would turn to her first for support to convince their friends to agree to it.

He was told to lie about the island before they left and convinced it was the only way to protect their friends. Charles Widmore already proved to be a deadly threat. He was a rich and powerful man who would kill anyone - man, woman or child - to take control of the island.

When their plane disappeared, Widmore knew why. He paid millions to acquire another Boeing 777-200, had it painted identical to Oceanic 815, stuffed with 400 dead bodies from God knows where and dropped into the Sunda Trench. Why? To stop search and rescue.

They had lived under the umbrella of The Lie for years now and kept their mouths shut. Eight months into his marriage, Sayid's wife, Nadia, was killed. A hit and run on a crosswalk in LA in broad daylight. But the car circled around before leaving. Sayid disappeared after taking her body to Tikrit, Iraq for burial.

Kate, Jack and Hurley considered it a warning shot. Stay quiet or die.

She didn't like The Lie or pretending to have given birth to Aaron. Back then, it was the only way to keep him from being taken away and adopted when they were rescued. They made their decisions in a vacuum on Penny's boat to protect a lot of people including the baby.

Kate avoided any and all conversations about the island with anyone, the fake one of Membata, much less the real one in her nightmares. It only reminded her of Claire, the hardships they suffered and lives lost. She didn't even know if Claire was alive to rescue. As if it was a possibility. The island disappeared into thin air.

Jack tried to gaze deeply into her eyes. His vision blurred. He wanted her to believe and have his back again. Jack needed her to be with him and support what the voices in his head told him. Instead, he saw sorrow and disbelief in her green eyes. His hope plummeted.

"I have to go. He's gonna be wondering where I am." Kate turned around to walk away.

Jack looked surprised. He reached out with his long arms, grabbed and turned her quickly. He pulled her close, hands grasping her shoulders. She closed her eyes, not wanting to lock eyes with him, not wanting to smell the alcohol on his breath and oozing through his pores. It took her back to childhood.

They were close enough to kiss, something she couldn't do despite her feelings for him. She resisted the magnetic pull her body felt when pressed against his. She wanted his arms around her but not like this.

"We were not supposed to leave." He spoke with conviction and squeezed her upper arms tightly. She opened her eyes, his face inches from hers. He was absolute in his statement. He wasn't like this before Locke visited.

"Yes, we were." She extricated herself from his tight grasp. Unbidden tears pouring down her cheeks. "Goodbye, Jack."

Jack watched her, naked desperation on his face as he openly wept. He didn't want to her leave. "We have to go back, Kate!" He called out. He looked so lost.

Kate watched Jack and cried quietly with him. He thought she finally understood. She broke eye contact after a few moments and got in her car.

He watched in disbelief as she spun her car around quickly to leave. "WE HAVE TO GO BACK!" He yelled again desperately. His body shook from a tremor.

It was the only way to fix everything including the wreckage of his life.

He was unsteady but paused to look up as a plane took off overhead. The heat from the jets were a temporary distraction. They warmed him where he stood.

Kate began to speed off but stopped suddenly. She heard what he was yelling despite trying to drive away. Her temper flared. The ugly stew of feelings she kept a lid on began to boil over.

She put her Volvo in reverse and sped backwards towards Jack. Kate slammed the brakes stopping 10 yards from where he stood. He frowned in confusion.

Kate got out, anger and anxiety squeezing air from her lungs. She was still crying and let out a breath as she took long, determined strides towards him. "We have to go back?" Her hair blew back to reveal her damp face and an expression saying she was fed up. She was stunned he would even suggest it.

Jack swayed slightly in his struggle to stand upright. He looked away.

"We have to go back?!" She got close to him and said it louder. "WE HAVE TO GO BACK?!" She raised her voice.

He weaved, unable to steady himself. "Now hold on..." He wanted to calm her but his words slurred together.

Her emotions spilled over with more tears. Everything came out in a rushing torrent. She snapped. "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! YOU CALL ME OVER AND OVER AGAIN FOR TWO DAYS STRAIGHT, STONED ON YOUR PILLS?!"

She took a deep breath and paused, trying to collect herself. She leaned a little towards him and lowered her voice a few notches. "And then you show up here with an obituary for 'Jeremy Bentham'?" She looked away in disgust before locking eyes with him. Kate's voice was filled with outrage. "When he came to me and I heard what he had to say ... I knew he was crazy." She emphasized the last sentence. "But you ... you believed him."

"Yes." Jack stared at his feet. John made it sound so plausible. They shouldn't have left and this was why Jack was living in hell.

"HIM? OF ALL PEOPLE!?" Kate raised her voice, beyond frustrated and betrayed.

She and Jack trusted each other. Not just on the island. He still called her to talk sometimes, aside from the call bombing for last two days. He was usually half-drunk or stoned, but she felt he needed the contact and connection. She did too. She needed to know he was still alive and for him to know he mattered to her.

Now he believed Locke, or "Bentham." Not Kate. Her words didn't register in Jack's brain, but Locke's did. She felt betrayed.

Locke, the man Jack needed Kate to have his back against.

Locke, who was obsessed with the island.

Locke, who knocked Sayid out and destroyed the transceiver.

Locke, who lied about Boone's accident and called him a "sacrifice" after.

Locke, who was obsessed with the hatch, thinking it was the answer to everything.

Locke, the man Jack thought was crazy, fought with and tried to shoot in the head.

Locke, who was suckered into joining Ben, the diabolical man who made them suffer and caused deaths of survivors, their friends.

Jack believed him, not her. It was dumbfounding.

Jack was hitting rock bottom. It was the perfect time for Locke or any cult to sweep him up - for Jack to get sucked into some cause or belief. He was grasping at straws.

"Yes, Kate, I did because he said it was the only way I could keep you safe." His voice broke as he looked at her. "You and Aaron."

Kate slapped him without thinking. She struck him so hard her hand stung. He was using them as an excuse. It was bullshit. He dared to speak about the little boy he purposely ignored. Her boy now, their boy a few months ago. How dare he say he was keeping her and Aaron safe? She did it on her own.

Jack, high and drunk, had yelled in front of Aaron she wasn't related to him. It was in response to her saying she said she couldn't have Jack taking pills and alcohol around her son. Jack was aggressive, loud and wouldn't back off of her. Aaron walked in when those words came out of his mouth like daggers. Her world revolved around Aaron and Jack. It crushed her.

Did she have to give birth to Aaron to be his mom? What about all the other "moms" raising kids they didn't give birth to?

It had been two months. Despite his calls, Jack never asked to see Aaron. He didn't ask how he was doing or to say hello to him on the phone. It was as if the baby, his flesh and blood, ceased to exist.

She was the one cleaning up the aftermath. She held her little man and dried his many tears since Jack left. Aaron, thank God, didn't understand what Jack said. Unfortunately, Aaron thought he was a bad boy to make Uncle Jack disappear. She reassured him with cuddles, hugs and words he was the best boy, her most favorite boy in the whole world. She knew how it felt. It was an echo from the past. Her dad packed up and left her behind with Diane. At age five, she was convinced it was her fault.

"Don't you say his name! I STILL have to explain to him why you are NOT there to read to him, so DON'T you say his name!"

Jack couldn't make eye contact when she hit him. Shame filled his entire being. He finally looked up. "I'm sorry."

He was. He failed Aaron just like he failed Kate.

They both cried.

Her tears slowed when she finally spoke. Her green eyes were intense and pierced his brown, glassy ones. "I've spent the last three years trying to forget all the horrible things that happened the day we left." She paused. Bitterness made bile creep up her throat. "How dare you ask me to go back?"

Kate watched as his brow wrinkled in confusion. He was unable to answer.

He had nothing to say and knew she wasn't coming with him. It was a harsh blow, harder than any she could have physically delivered. Jack needed Kate by his side to convince the other three survivors. He needed her support.

They used to be a team of two. It made him feel stronger and more confident as a leader and man. He didn't realize it until he left her. Her support meant everything. He was alone in his pursuit to return. His resolve began to wane.

He didn't blame Kate for her unwillingness to go. She had to take care of Aaron. He watching her silently, his heart pounding.

Kate turned away again. Her fragile heart was breaking and body physically ill from her outburst. She walked to her car, got in and sped off without looking in the rearview mirror.

She began to sob and shake but was determined to get out it out her system. Aaron couldn't see her like this if he was still awake.

Jack watched her taillights disappear and turned away. The feeling emptiness returned. He had nothing to hold onto. Kate was one of the last threads left tethering him to this miserable existence. Kate and the island.

A small part of him knew she still loved him.

The paranoia, depression and pill side-effects told him otherwise.

The voices said she would be better off without him.