For some reason lately I have been dreaming of you. Every night for the past week I have dreamt of that last time you and I were together… I mean properly together, not what had happened between us since Oceanic flight 815 had crashed onto the island, before you sent Goodwin to his death. It all seems like an age ago now, and yet at the same time three years has passed so quickly. Now, I am laid in bed with Sawyer breathing softly at my side, fast asleep, unaware even now of what passed between you and I. I'm not sure why I have never told him, it's not because I'm ashamed, maybe it's because it all feels like it happened in another lifetime. I have barely spared you a thought for the past three years, but now you are in my mind every time I close my eyes. When I wake in the morning, still sweating and shaking from my dreams of you, I am comforted because I know you can never reach me here: it was just a dream.


I let out a sigh of contentment as Sawyer wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest and burying his face in my hair, I could not be happier: not only had I managed to successfully deliver a baby for the first time on the Island but I also had a man who loved me and respected me. As sleep overtook me I hoped that tonight I would not dream of you… of that last time…


I looked up from the microscope, unsurprised to see you standing there at the door, looking at me intensely with those brilliant blue eyes of yours. You often would visit me while I was at work, reviewing the cases of various women on the Island who had got pregnant, to check up on my progress. This little routine of yours had begun barely a week after I had arrived at the Island. I was flattered at first I admit; you lavished me with praise and told me how important my work was. No one had ever shown me such respect. The way you would look at me sent shivers down my spine, it was as though you could see into my very soul and knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling.

'Hello Ben.' I replied, turning back to the sample beneath the microscope.

You stood and stared at me for a bit longer, unnerving me slightly, before moving to my side. I couldn't pretend to be happy to see you, not after everything that had happened between us, not after you had found out about Goodwin and I.

'How is it looking?' You asked, laying your hand next to mine on the table.

'The same as always,' I sighed, running a hand through my hair, 'All her vitals, everything, is normal. She is only two months pregnant, I don't expect anything to start going wrong for a little while yet.'

'Then you have time to prevent her from ending up like the others.'

Your presumptuousness had always irritated me. 'I can't give you any promises, Ben, I've been working at this for nearly three years and I haven't achieved anything at all.' I said this quietly, trying to prevent my annoyance from spilling into my words.

'I have faith in you.' You replied, peering at me, making me feel as though I was naked under your gaze.

'Ben, please…' I didn't know what I was asking; all I knew was that I wanted all of it to end: the Island, the bloody deaths, the separation from normal life. I wanted to see Rachel again.

'Juliet,' the warning tone in your voice put me on edge immediately, 'Don't ask me something that I don't have the power to give.'

'You could-'

'No, I can't. Your work is not finished, until it is Jacob won't allow you to leave.'

'Sometimes I wonder about that, sometimes it feels as though you're keeping me here for some other reason… Surely you know all my efforts are futile?'

It was only then that I realised how close we were standing, so close that if Goodwin had seen us he would have –

'You will find a way. You are quite brilliant, Juliet, you will find a way…'

'No! There is nothing left Ben! I can't stand all of this death!' I moved to push past you, to get away from your intense gaze, to get some air and clear my head.

As I tried to get past you, you had grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled me flush up against your chest. My breath caught in my throat as all the memories of you and I together came flooding back, when had it all gone so wrong? You brushed a strand of hair out of my face, there was a tenderness in you then that I hadn't seen for so long it almost made me wish that things had worked out between us.

'Juliet,' you said softly, 'You should have more faith in yourself.'

Before I knew what was happening your lips were on mine, your hand entwined in my hair. For a second I didn't respond, all rational parts of my brain were screaming that this was so wrong, that you had controlled and manipulated me before and you were doing it again, but another part of me felt like it had suddenly ignited in passion. I opened up to your kiss, allowing your tongue entrance, and felt the heat burning between us. You pushed me up against the wall, I could feel how much you wanted me, and didn't stop you as your hands began to move slowly downwards. Goodwin had always been good in bed, but he had never been nearly as passionate as you were…

My eyes flung open as I thought of Goodwin: I was betraying him! Perhaps that was your plan all along, so you would have something over him.

'Ben, please… please stop…' I barely gasped out, as you moved your attention to my neck, nipping and kissing me in the places only you knew drove me wild.

You made no verbal response, but pinned my arms above my head and kissed me with even more intensity that before. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stop you, I didn't want to stop you…

It was lucky that no one walked in on us that time, us having sex up against the wall of my laboratory. It was lucky that Goodwin hadn't popped over that day to bring me coffee, or a sandwich, as he was wont to do. Guilt surged through me as I zipped up my trousers and you tucked your shirt back in, looking as neat and tidy as you had when you had first walked in except for the slight flush to your cheeks.

'That should not have happened…' I said cautiously.

'I won't share you Juliet.' There was a fire burning in your eyes as you said it, I knew then and there that you meant it with every fibre of your being. 'You're mine, or you're nobody's.'

'I love Goodwin-' I protested.

'Goodwin has a wife! Or perhaps you had forgotten that tiny detail?'

You didn't wait for me to respond, but headed for the door, you paused as you laid your hand on the handle.

'Think about it, Juliet.' You said, and then you were gone.


It was the ringing of the phone next to our bed that woke me, rather than the dream itself, I let Sawyer answer it, not wanting to move from my comfortable position. After a brief conversation, Sawyer got out of bed and left. I knew something had happened, something had changed. What possibly could have happened to make Sawyer leave at such an early hour? My heart filled with dread at the possibility: what if they, what if he had somehow made it back to the Island?