Okay, since I'm finished, I'm gonna put up Chapter 1, that way you can all make an informed decision. The mythology aspects are based on a theory I have that will mostly likely be proved wrong in the first episode, but is still (I hope) interesting... ;)
Chapter 1. J.J.
"We have to go back. We have to go back!"
Driving home from the airport after meeting Jack, all Kate could think about was how broken he looked; how desperate; as he stood there under the headlights of her car, begging her to help him achieve something that she wasn't even was possible anymore.
Once, she would have stayed and fought with him, but she'd changed since the rescue, enough to recognise that there was no going back: to the island, to the way things were, to him…
All they could do now was keep moving forward. Moving on. Their saviours had seen to that.
To her dismay, the porch lights were on when she pulled into the drive, and she realised that she'd forgotten the milk she'd intended to bring back as an excuse. She considered slipping off again to go to the store, but it was too late; as she reached for the gearstick to put the car into reverse, she saw the curtains flutter, and she knew that he'd been watching her.
And that he knew where she'd been.
Bracing herself for an argument, she switched off the engine and got out, hitting the button on her keys to lock all the doors, and letting herself into the house.
Sure enough, there he was, waiting for her in the front hall, his arms crossed as he leant against the entrance to the living room, eyeing her with disapproval. It made her feel like she was sixteen again, sneaking off in the middle of the night to go hang out in the park.
Except that she was grown woman now; almost thirty years old; too old to be intimidated by him. He might still be her father, but she no longer needed his permission to do anything, especially go out.
"What?" she asked him, feigning nonchalance as she tried to push past him, but he wouldn't budge.
"It's one o'clock in the morning – where have you been?" he asked, straightening up, his arms still folded, once he'd made his point.
"To the store. I had to get some formula for J.J. before he woke up," she lied, just like she'd planned, sighing when he stepped aside, and she stalked into the kitchen to find her six-month-old son strapped into his highchair, finishing a bottle.
Clearly he knew that it could have waited until morning.
"That's funny, because I just fed him and there was a whole other can," he said, his eyes narrowing, his expression tightening with anger as he added, "You're going to see him again, aren't you? After everything you went through last time? Katie, we talked about this – I thought we agreed."
She knew that there was no point in keep up the pretence of an important errand when they were both aware that what he was saying was the truth; she wasn't even sure that she'd done anything to apologise for, so she said, "Kate, Dad, and he has a name," as she took the empty bottle from her son's hand and rinsed it out in the sink. "And you agreed. I just did what I was told."
She was still waiting for him to acknowledge the fact that he'd manipulated her during one of the most vulnerable periods of her life, convincing her that cutting all ties with Jack was for the best, but he ignored this remark.
"I know what his name is," he said with a pointed glance at J.J. "I also know that he's an addict, and therefore, unstable, which is why I asked you to stay away from him. Both of you."
"He's also the father of my child – you think I should just let him kill himself?" she demanded as she undid the clasps, and lifted her son out, wrapping one arm around his torso, the other around his backside, jiggling him when he began to fuss at the sound of raised voices. "He's a mess, Dad. I almost didn't recognise him."
"And who's fault is that, Katherine? Any of that?" her father snapped, losing the tentative grip he had on his temper, and she had to resist the urge to storm out of the house, and go to a motel. She'd moved back in with him for his support, not his persecution.
"You may have grown up since the last time I saw you – you may be a mother – but your judgement hasn't improved. I love that little boy more than life itself, and I wouldn't wish him away for the world – you know that – but if you'd just kept your distance from him like you were supposed to, like they asked you to…"
Them. Like she was going to do anything they said if she could avoid it. If it weren't for her son, then she wouldn't have gone along with what they wanted for as long as she had.
"Then what? I wouldn't have gotten myself knocked up? So I'm a screw up now – still – and my son is a mistake?" she retorted, louder than she'd intended, causing J.J. to burst into startled tears. "Thanks, Dad. It's nice to know what you think of your family."
"That's not what I meant, Katie," he said, backtracking, softening, as it seemed to occur to him how insensitive he'd come over. "All I'm saying is that that man isn't fit to be a father, which is why your son needs at least one parent he can count on. You should've been here for him when he woke up, not me. You were the one who decided to do this."
He wanted her to tell him that he was right, that she was sorry, that she understood and would try to do better next time, but she wasn't in the mood to comfort him with false promises, not when she was in need of comforting herself.
That look still haunted her when she closed her eyes, rubbing them to relieve her exhaustion; she couldn't guarantee that the next time Jack called, she would ignore it, because after what she'd witnessed that night, she couldn't help feeling that she'd ignored him for too long. Someone had to do something, and she was the only one left.
"Goodnight, Dad," she said, her voice sharp and uncompromising as she ended the conversation, leaving him to stew for the rest of the night, still bouncing her son, pressing soft kisses to his fine, dark curls, and whispering to him as she carried him up the stairs to their room.
"It's okay, baby," she told him as she set him onto his back in his crib, tucking his blanket up around him, but as she kissed him again, on the forehead this time, watching his deep brown eyes flutter closed, she couldn't help wondering who she was trying to convince of this: him, or herself.
Who can guess what J.J. stands for? ;) Kate seemed so calm and collected in the flashforwards, that I thought it would be cool if someone else (a.k.a. Sam) was pulling the strings. Sam as the overbearing, overprotecting father (who disapproves of Jack) is a very different dynamtic to what I normally write...
Next chapter: Kate can't get her mind off a certain depressed, bearded spinal surgeon, and decides to pay him another visit... ;)