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Things haven’t gone exactly to plan.
They’re back, and already Ajira Flight 316 feels a million miles away, the memory of it dusty, curling at the edges. If nothing else, she remembers distinctly the feeling that had settled in her gut with the first jolt of the plane: a sticky heat; nausea. The air, clotted with a thick, fevered sweetness–
They’re back, and Kate’s not sure whether they’re shaking Fate’s hand or spitting in its eye, but she does know it’s taken them for a spin. This Island isn’t their Island. They may have gotten the where right, but they’ve managed to well and truly screw up the when. And, really, where are they—where is she—supposed to go from here?
“Penny for them?” The voice is soft. Familiar. Kate can practically hear Juliet’s smile curled up within it, a gentle quirk of her lips.
When she looks up, Kate finds a can of bear dangling a few inches before her nose, condensation dripping over the metal, clear and pearly. Flashing a grateful, if preoccupied, smile, she reaches up. It opens with a pop. A satisfying hiss. Cool and refreshing, the drink’s just what she’s been needing after spending an afternoon broiling underneath the Dharma vans.
“Hm?” The sound comes out around a mouthful of beer. Her mother might chastise her for not being ladylike, but, she thinks, suppressing a shudder, hasn’t she always been her father’s daughter?
“For your thoughts,” Juliet clarifies, leaning against a nearby van. She’s taken to wearing a bandana recently—a bright red one, peppered with tiny yellow flowers. Or, at least, perhaps that’s what it once looked like. Engineering isn’t conducive to clean clothes. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Kate hums again. But there’s a heavy pause before she begins to answer. Maybe if she’s quiet for long enough the subject will be dropped. Maybe Juliet won’t splay her open today, as she is wont to do. Maybe this conversation won’t end up feeling like open heart surgery, and she won’t leave with a brand new scar over her chest. Maybe Juliet will just leave her in peace.
A long moment passes, the blonde simply gazing at her from her spot against the van. Waiting.
And, finally, Kate buckles. Makes like a pomegranate, and cracks.
“I was just thinking,” she begins, hesitantly, clearing her throat. She’s sitting criss-cross applesauce on the sun-baked floor, oil-stained hands clenched around her beer tightly enough to crush the can. “I was just thinking that I really don’t know… what the hell is happening anymore. I mean, I don’t think anyone does. But I—”
Another pause. Her gaze, set to the floor; her jaw, working convulsively.
“Juliet, I came here for Claire. I came to bring her back. And then—” Here, she gestures helplessly around her: the vans, the oil puddles, the spanners and wrenches scattered at intervals across the floor. “—this. The—the 70s? I’m—part of me is waiting to wake up. Waiting to wake up, and find that—that I’ve hit my head in the crash, and that Claire is there, and none of this is happening.”
A pause. Juliet says nothing. After all, she knows there’s more to come. And sure enough—after another swig of beer—more comes pouring out.
“I’m no good at playing house, Juliet. I’ve never been good at it. Other girls had those—those toy cooking sets. I had toy guns. And I—”
God, where am I going with this?
She laughs. A harsh noise, ragged, tearing in places. It’s been reused one too many times, and it wasn’t even meant for recycling in the first place.
“I just don’t know what I’m doing. And Radzinsky won’t get off my freaking back, and, I mean, I have enough on my plate without him…” She trails off, waving a hand noncommittally.
“I can have a word with him, if you like.” Juliet shrugs. Again, her lips quirk into that old, familiar smile. “Stuart… can take some getting used to. Hell, I’m not sure that I can get through to him, even after three years, but I can try.”
“Oh, I don’t wanna—”
“Kate. I can’t help with most of what you’re going through. I’m a doctor, not a physicist. Time travel’s really not my area. But Stuart I can help you with.” A pause. “I mean, I really owe you one, Kate. After everything with Ben. I—You had my back, when I really needed you. And now—I have yours.”
Kate smiles—or tries to. But it ends up feeling choked. Anxiety is worse than weeds in that way.
“No. I don’t want Stuart getting suspicious of you, too. That’s not gonna do anyone any favours.”
“Stuart is suspicious of everyone. And besides—” Here, Juliet’s smile broadens, skin crinkling at the corners of her eyes, cheeks appled. “I’m not asking for your permission.”