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By the end of the first week, she was bored out of her mind.
She couldn’t do anything, so in turn, she did nothing. James was content to fuss over her, whether out of concern or guilt she wasn’t sure, but she was too irritated by the fact her foot felt like it was constantly about to fall off, to care too much.
Juliet thought he’d already come up with all the one-legged nicknames in the book. However, just when she thought he’d exhausted himself, there he was, inventing another.
“What’s up Limpin’ Beauty?”
She was too bored to summon the effort involved in rolling her eyes.
“I think they set the cast wrong,” she said.
“You said that yesterday."
She pulled a face. “I’m serious. He did it wrong and I’m going to have to wear this cast for the next three months to make up for the fact that the bone wasn’t set correctly.”
“You said that yesterday too,” he replied.
She exhaled loudly. Limping Beauty. She didn’t know whether to be insulted, or flattered.
By week two, she’d had enough.
It was simply impossible to get around. Every task took her an hour and by the end of each day she felt like a first year resident again, exhausted and useless. She grabbed a large bag of potato chips and then hopped over to the refrigerator, reaching in to loosen one of the Dharma beers from a pack. Apparently, compensating for her change in balance was not something she was capable of doing anymore either, and she grasped the door for support. Juliet sighed, reached back in and took out the entire six-pack instead. Still on one foot, she hobble-hopped to the living room, and collapsed onto the sofa before opening her book, the chips, and a can of beer.
He found her hours later, giggling over her book. He glanced at the title - Plain Speaking: An Oral Biography of Harry S. Truman - and raised an eyebrow. She looked up, cheeks flushed and clearly a few cards short of a deck. The woman was in no condition to argue with a doorknob. He noted she’d emptied five cans, and was currently half way through another. James stared at her, silently impressed that she was still conscious.
Juliet hiccoughed. “Did you know that you can’t make a cup of coffee and hop back to the living room with it in your hand?”
By week three she was ready to saw her foot off.
Crutches supporting her, she headed over to the patch of shaded grass he was sitting on and parked next to him, knowing full well it would take her at least twenty minutes to get up again.
He lowered his book and looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Nice nap?”
“Well my leg cramped and woke me up, so I'm awesome,” she replied.
He smiled, hoping the effort would coax one out of her.
“Y’know," he said. "When I was eleven I fell off a horse and broke my arm.”
She looked at him then, in that same way she always did - like she was interested in what he had to say.
“And then, when I was twenty-four I got into a – uh – let’s just call it a difference of opinion with somebody’s husband - "
"Difference of opinion?"
"Uh huh."
"That's what we're going with?"
"That's what we're going with," he said. "Anyway, I ended up goin’ through a glass window and hittin’ the pavement, Doc called it a hairline fracture. Broke my wrist too... when I was... when I was in lockup.”
“I know," she said, no judgment in her expression. “I read your file.”
“Anythin’ you don’t know?” he asked.
“I guess... I guess I still don’t know why you jumped out of that helicopter.”
She hadn’t brought it up since that day in the jungle almost seven months ago.
James sighed, shaking his head. “It don’t matter now.”
“Yes it does, James,” she said. "It all matters."
She didn’t push further, and they sat in silence awhile, each staring into their own void.
He kept looking over at her, trying to work out she did it. “It was losin’ fuel.”
She looked at him, saying nothing, giving him the room.
“We’d already tossed everything we could," he said. "We weren’t gonna make it to the freighter. I was... I was just givin’ ‘em a chance.”
“Some might call that heroic," she said.
“And some might call it runnin’," he replied. "I ain’t a hero, Juliet.”
“Okay, say you were running. Running from what?”
He looked at her. “Anything. Everythin’. I been runnin’ my whole life, blondie, maybe it’s all I know. Besides, I had nothin’ to go back to.”
Juliet spread her palms along her thighs. “You could’ve started over," she said. "Clean slate, new life?"
“Maybe,” he replied. “But then... who’d be here to watch your back? Makin' sure you don’t go fallin' into giant holes and twistin' yourself black and blue?”
She laughed. “Um. Well, actually, I'm not sure that analogy works seeing as you were here and I still fell down a giant hole remember?"
He laughed too, and she decided she liked the sound.
“So," he said, leaning back on his hands, and turning his head to look at her. "You ever broken anythin’ else, aside from hearts that is?”
He caught the look in her eyes before she had time to mask it, a nerve, one that had been rubbed raw.
“Nope,” she replied, her expression neutral once more. “Dislocated my shoulder though. Four times.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How’d you manage that?”
“Well the first time... I was six and Rachel was ten. We were jumping on the beds and swinging round and round in circles and I guess it got a little crazy and I sorta got swung... off the bed.” She smiled at the memory. “Second time was during a self-defence class in Miami. And the third time was also during a defence class here... on the Island.”
“And the fourth? Let me guess. You got into a brawl with a polar bear?”
"No," she said, hesitating a little. "Actually, it was Kate. When Ben wanted me to infiltrate your camp, I dragged her out into the jungle and handcuffed myself to her in the hope that... she’d think that I was left behind too.”
James nodded a little and she suddenly wished she hadn’t said anything.
“She wasn’t very sympathetic," she added, with a small laugh.
He laughed too, a sort of gentle understanding passing between them.
"It ain't like any of us had room to talk," he said. "You were right about me... who I was. And Kate... she was always trying to remind me of that, all the while... expecting somethin' different."
He looked up and she could see him fighting himself, his emotions as large as the Dharma patch on his jumpsuit.
Juliet leaned back, placing a hand on one of his.
"I don't care you were, James," she said, her gaze also turning toward the sky. "I can see who you are. It's enough."
By week four she’d gotten the hang of it.
“James!”
She was outside on the grass, leaning on her crutches when he found her. Aiming one of them in the direction of the porch she said, “We need to take care of that ants nest. I feel like any minute now they're gonna move into the house, crawl down my cast and set up shop.”
She had just the right amount of frown to make her look genuinely concerned as she held his eyes in a faux-angelic gaze. He lowered his eyes at her. She’d been pointing out the red sand since October. They’d argued a little over whose responsibility it was, and it had ended in a stalemate with both of them refusing to touch it.
The morning sun caught the top of her head, producing a halo effect. He huffed, and marched off to find the ant poison.
“Rascal.”
He'd mumbled it just loud enough so she would hear, and then settled down to work.
She was still standing on the grass with a grin on her face.
By week five she’d started to rebel.
Tired of washing her hair over the sink and sick to death of sponge baths, she filled the tub. A generous amount of bubble bath later, she’d tied a bag around her cast, stripped naked, and lowered herself cautiously into the steaming water, trailing her offending foot over the edge. The heat turned her skin bright pink but she didn’t care. She was having this bath! Resting her head back, she breathed in the scented oils, and savoured the sensation of bubbles tickling her skin.
Burying her nose in a book, she idled away the afternoon reading Erica Jong until her eyes became heavy and the water too tepid to stay there much longer. Hands gripping firmly either side of the tub, she tried to haul herself out. The layer of oils now lying on the bottom of the tub disagreed with her movement and forced her back down, water tipping over the edge with the motion.
Oh no.
Juliet tried a different approach. Using both hands on just one side of the tub, she tried twisting her body onto her submerged knee so that she was now facing the wall, back to the ceiling, left leg stretched out into the air like a failed attempt at yoga.
Crap.
She heard the front door open and close. James. “
Honey, I’m home!”
She rolled her eyes.
"I miss being an Other," she said, before calling out. “I'm in the bath!”
She could hear him coming down the hallway, the very definite pause of footsteps outside the bathroom door.
“You okay in there?"
She looked down at herself. Both hands and one knee submerged under water, back flexed to support her demon leg, rear end to the sky. “Uh… Yeah.”
“Don’t get your cast wet.”
She heard him chuckle a little as he headed back down the hallway. It was only the thousandth time he’d said it. Reversing course she half-turned, half-slid so that she was sitting once more. Then, pressing her lips into a thin line she evaluated her position. She could either call for help, or, she could just move in here.
Two minutes later, the now cold water chose for her. She tried reaching for her towel - the one she'd forgotten to put on the side of the bath before she got in.
Sigh. There was nothing else for it.
“James!”
“Yeah?”
“Could you... come here a minute?”
She heard him making his way back toward her, and used that time to make one last ditch effort to get out. “Dammit!”
“You all right there Hop Along?” he said, calling through the door.
“Yes... No.” Juliet blew air between her lips. “I – um – kind of need you.”
She could definitely hear him smirk. “
What didja do?”
“I – um – took a bath.”
“Uh huh. Got yourself into some trouble there?”
“You could… say that.”
“Want some help?”
“Yes... No... Yes.”
The doorknob turned.
“Wait!”
“What!?”
“I can't reach my towel!”
“Oh for cryin’ out loud.”
She heard him sigh as he came in, his eyes comically covered by one hand.
He grabbed the towel and tossed it to her. She caught it effortlessly.
Now, how she was meant to wrap the damn thing around herself she had no idea. So, Juliet settled for just letting the towel fall into the water a little as she pulled it around to cover herself as best she could, one leg still dangling helplessly over the side.
“Okay," she said.
He turned around, trying – and failing – not to grin.
She threw him a dirty look which only made him worse.
“Just get over here,” she said.
James was still smiling, clearly happy to take his own sweet damn time. She watched the way he got down beside her, leaning his arms on the tub and his chin in his hands. There was a kind of mischief in his eyes, and it was definitely something she was growing to like. Juliet felt the heat creeping into her neck, knowing it was nothing she could hide. She tried not looking at him, but it made her very aware of her body, and the fact that there was very little left to the imagination. When she looked up, he was still looking her in that same way, his eyes soft and teasing. She splashed a little water at him in response and he grinned.
"So, what's your book about?" he asked, glancing down at the title.
"Uh," she hesitated. "It's - um - about a woman, who... runs away from her life and... has a lot of sex."
"Well," he replied. "That sounds kinda nice."
She couldn't tell if he meant anything by it, but there was a look between them all the same. Juliet was certain her cheeks now matched the flush in her neck.
"You can read it yourself, just as soon as you help me out of here," she said. "Second-wave feminism, you'll love it."
"Second wave huh?" he replied. "I can't wait."
Plunging his hands into the water, he lifted her out in one swoop. The towel clung to Juliet's body like shrink-wrap, and she swore his own neck was a shade darker than usual. Navigating her carefully across the hall, he carried her through to her bedroom before lowering her gently down onto the bed.
“There ya go," he said. "Services rendered."
She stared intently at his knees, not quite able to bring herself to look at him standing over her.
“You need help getting’ your jammies on?” he said, that grin of his appearing once more. “’Cause, yknow, I think you an’ I don’t have any secrets anymore.”
Juliet flicked her eyes to his.
“James?” she said.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Go away.”
By week six she was getting on her own damn nerves.
Not one for sitting still, she was itching to do something more than just the general prescription of “take it easy”. She wanted to run, swim, climb a tree - hell anything but all this sitting around! The closer she got to the finish line, the longer the hours became.
At the end of the week James went with her to the infirmary - he seemed just as eager to be rid of the damn thing.
The doctor examined her and broke the news as gently as he could. She was going to have to wear the cast another two weeks.
Juliet glared at her roommate.
“You know this is your fault, right?” she said.
James blinked, still staring at the doctor. “You're kiddin', right, Doc? ”
“I wouldn’t have been out there if you hadn’t been such an ass.”
“Oh well then, next time I blow my transmission, I’ll just walk through Hostile territory rather than call the motor-pool.”
“Or maybe you could have reset your default sooner, so it wasn't always set to 'jerk'.”
“Or - maybe you shouldn't burn holes in my back when I set my boots at the door."
"Oh, yeah, sure, because everybody loves dirt -"
"Exactly. Why else would you have tried so hard to fall down a giant hole full of it!"
“You can get your own damn dinner from now on.”
"I may well have to, seein' how long it takes you to get out of a bath."
"You're infuriating."
"And you're damn stubborn."
The doctor was looking back and forth between them.
“You see," James said. "This is what happens when you ask a woman to stay for two weeks.”
The doctor suggested couple's therapy.
They both told him where he could stick it.
~END~