Author's note: I started like 4 different fanfics, each of them is different than the other, and I couldn't end a single one. So since I got so anxious to write something – this came out, and it came out very short. Sorry, and hope you could still enjoy it.
They were out of private places, so it seemed to Kate. You can't really settle at a place on the beach, 'cause half of the survivors are still there. You can't find a private spot at the cages, 'cause the other half is there. The hatch would've been an option if it wasn't for the 2 people shift Locke kept insisting on. And going out to the jungle alone… well, it didn't even look like a good idea in theory.
So she went to the graveyard. Well, the makeshift graveyard that is.
Being careful not to step on any grave, she sat next to Shannon's burial plot and sighed heavily. 3 girls they lost. First Shannon, who was killed by Ana Lucia. Then Ana herself and Libby who were both killed by… Henry. Or at least, that's what Michael had said. She wasn't too sure she believed him. Things just fell so easy into place. They have been searching for him for days, ever since he took off to find Walt, and then all of a sudden – he came back by himself. He knew where to find her and Jack. Something just didn't sit well there.
She sighed again as she remembered that night. She and Jack were sitting by the fire. He was pissed off over the Others and over the fact she neglected to tell him of a bunker she and Claire found, so he was really cold to her. Which was weird, seeing as he still managed to say he wasn't sorry she kissed him. If Michael hadn't just appeared, she knew she would've kissed him again. Despite how cold he just was to her. It was the complete opposite of the way they were earlier that day, when they got caught in the net.
Kate smiled in spite of herself, remembering it. At first he was holding her close to him, but soon enough when he realized just how close their bodies were, he let go. She remembered feeling his heartbeat against her as their chests were pressed together. She remembered her nose grazing against his cheek. His mouth slightly touching hers as she reached over to grab his gun. Trying to move away from her but ending up softly touching her hair. Then the way he grabbed her as they both fell to the ground. How they laughed and she leaned her head against his chest.
She didn't like thinking about it, but some days she just had to admit, even if only to herself – she was falling for him.
She didn't know what pushed her away from thinking those thoughts. Maybe it was the fear of losing him. Maybe it was the disbelief that someone like him could feel for her what she feels for him. Maybe it was Sawyer, of all things. She had to admit – things would be so simple with Sawyer. So familiar. But is that really what she wanted? Another guy to treat her badly? Another guy to see her as his equal, and not in a good way? Sawyer is the sort of guy who would've bolted out the door if it wasn't a stranded island. And she hated that.
On the other hand Jack… Jack saw her as his equal. And for a girl like her to be thought of as equal to a man like him meant everything. Jack only had his eyes for her, and she could tell. Even if he didn't admit it, even if he looked away and smiled uncomfortably, even if he started talking about something different entirely. She knew that at times of danger, all he thinks about is her. She knew if she could just allow herself – she'll be the happiest person in the world being with him. It wasn't that Jack was perfect. He was perfect for her. Jack was caring, considerate, genuine… Jack was heading towards her.
She clears her throat and tucks a curl behind her ear as he approaches.
"It's dark, Kate. Why are you sitting here all alone?" he asks, a little too coldly for her liking.
"I was looking for somewhere private where I could think." She shrugs.
"Yeah… sorry." He says taking a seat across from her.
"For?" she asks, suddenly really bewildered.
"Your, uh… private spot. Me being here." He answers.
"Oh. Better you than an Other, I suppose…" she smirks.
They continue to sit their uncomfortably for a few seconds, neither looking up at the other.
"What are you doing here so late?" she asks, knowing the answer.
"I don't know." He answers shaking his head, "I guess I just felt the need to be here."
"For Ana?" she dared, instantly regretting it.
He immediately looks up at her and she could see his jaw stiffening. He frowns a bit and shakes his head lightly.
"Sorry." She whispers.
She contemplates it for awhile and then sits up, walking towards him. He raises his head to face her and she just sits next to him in respond.
"How have you been?" she asks. He just shakes his head in reply, "I'm sorry. I can imagine losing her was hard on you."
And as she says those words, she can't believe it's her talking. She never liked Ana. The way she behaved to Sawyer, the way she looked at Jack, the way Jack confided in her – like he used to with Kate… she hated it.
"Why, Kate?" he asks coldly.
"Sorry?" she asks confused.
"Why do you pretend like you care? Why do you come up to me now and try to console me? Try to talk to me over it." He shoots.
Upon hearing his first sentence her eyes feel with tears and she sits up again, this time beginning to walk away from him.
"Why weren't you there?" he calls after her, also sitting up.
She stops and turns to him, waiting for him to finish his attack.
"Why are you running now? Why must you always run?" he whispers painfully.
She draws closer to him, her glistering eyes blazing with anger. The tears she had in her eyes spill freely to her cheeks, and he knows if he'll just say one more thing…
"Don't cry." he orders, not in the soothing way she had hoped for, but meanly, "you never showed any sign of caring. So don't you cry now."
…she slaps him.
He moves his head to the side, flinching. He'd expected that. With one hand she roughly grabs the side of his face and turns him to face her. He had never seen her this angry before.
"You asshole." She mutters angrily, "how can you say I never showed any sign of caring? Goddamn it Jack, we crashed and you asked me – a person with no medical knowledge to sew you up and I did. You were in that cave in and I nearly killed myself by digging with my bare hands a way for you to get out. After Boone died, you wouldn't even sleep! You were sick, you were weary and I cared enough to drug you in order for you to sleep just enough to survive. I knew it'd mean you never trusting me again but I did it anyway, just so I wouldn't lose you! And when I was held at gun point by the Others? All I could think about was you. It didn't for one second cross my mind that I might be dead any minute now, all I kept thinking about was how I'd never see you again. How I was disappointing you. So don't you dare tell me I never cared for you."
With those last words, with that hurtful tone, she turns again to leave.
"Hey…" he calls grabbing her arm roughly and making her face him.
"Don't." she says harshly, "let go."
"No." he answers slowly.
She finally lets her sight to face his. His eyes penetrate her, and she can't help but remembering the last time he grabbed her this way. It ended in a kiss then, and somehow she just knows…
He wraps one arm around her waist and then lets go of her hand, wrapping the other one, too. She raises her head to him, sniffing away tears. Her expression softens. She hates herself for not caring how he talked to her, how he grabbed her roughly, but she doesn't. All she thinks about is his arms wrapped around her, his breath hitting against her mouth, his eyes piercing through her.
He doesn't even allow her to hesitate. She's had her chance, now it's his turn. He leans in, capturing her mouth between his lips causing her to moan softly with need. She needs him, she needs to feel so close to him. She needs to have his mouth on hers more often than not. She realizes it now.
Her hands, which rested against his chest, come up to the back of his neck making sure they lower his face as close to her as possible. She doesn't even bother to ration her breaths, she's so caught up in the moment.
Their tongues wrestle, almost lazily, as if they know this is not their last kiss. This is not the last time they'd taste each other. It's the most passionate yet serene kiss they both ever had.
He's the one to pull away, gulping slightly as their mouths disconnect. She brings her hands to his cheeks and pulls him closer, their foreheads now touching.
"Just so we're clear," she begins huskily, "I was never – not for one second – sorry."
He smiles lightly, remembering that night by the fire when she said she was sorry she kissed him.
"I know." He whispers back, "I wouldn't have kissed you if I wasn't so sure of it."
"Cocky." She whispers laughing.
"Not cocky," he begins, lowering her hands from his face and taking her hand in his, "just confident."
They both begin to walk away from the graveyard, and for the first time, they both feel confident. Simultaneously.