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James had to duck and dodge his way through the sea of celebration. He’d long since lost count the number of times a lithe and eager body had pressed up against him. It seemed to him that anyone who’d not yet attached themselves to a counterpart was looking to get it on with Jim La Fleur. No one wanted to see midnight alone and, if they could help it, the rest of the night. James had no intention of entertaining their drunken fantasies, not because his body had no interest, but because he knew better now than to go stumbling off to bed with someone who he’d have to look in the eye tomorrow. There was no escaping Hell Island. Aside from that, he hadn’t drunk nearly enough to find neon polka dots attractive – he’d go blind just trying to get the skirt off. As he searched for someone – anyone – to talk to who would not in turn wrap their arms around his neck and try to stick their tongue down his throat, he wondered when he’d become so duty-bound and practical. What did it matter if he didn’t wake up alone? It was the ‘70s, nobody actually cared if you didn’t and nobody would judge you if you did.

He spotted Horace who looked, surprisingly, like the most sober person in the room, and headed toward him. He had to move quickly to avoid any more wandering fingers.

“Evening Jim!” Horace said, with a grin. “Happy New Year.”

“And yourself,” James replied.

“Having a good time?”

“Think I might have some unexplained bruises in the mornin’, but other than that it’s a good party you got here.”

Horace’s eyes twinkled when he laughed, his party hat slipping sideways. 

“Everybody here works hard,” he said.  “They deserve to have a good time and let their hair down a little.”

“That Mary-Jane with the polka dots is lettin’ it down a lot ,” James said, with a lop-sided smile.

“Well, I’m sure if you ask nicely, she might let you get a good look inside her house.”

James shot him a look. Maybe Horace was less sober than he appeared to be. “Thanks, boss, but I ain’t lookin’.”

“Suit yourself,” Horace said, his eyes searching the room. “You know if polka dots aren’t your thing, I think Disco Daisy over there is trying to catch your eye.”

James laughed. “Daisy can’t talk any quieter than a jet engine,” he said. “And I think my roommate might object to being woken up. She ain’t the world’s greatest mornin’ person.”

Horace nodded, pursing his lips and pressing his fingers together. “Is that the only reason?”

James opened his mouth to respond only to find he had nothing more to say. There's a first.

Horace patted him on the arm. “It’s okay my friend, your secret’s safe with me.”

Or it’s restin’ at the bottom of too many whiskies, James thought.

“So,” Horace said, swirling his near-empty glass. “Where is Juliet this evening, Jim? I’m sure I saw her earlier, but I… I think I’ve lost track of everyone a little.”

“I ain’t her keeper,” James said.

Horace’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

James spread his palms, regretting his tone.

“Last I saw she’d snagged a bottle of wine and headed outside with Amy,” he said.

Horace nodded, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. “I like Amy,” he said, although James was certain the man wasn’t aware he’d actually said it.

A raucous chorus surged through the crowd when the music died and somebody’s voice – James suspected Jerry’s although it was difficult to tell through the alcohol-induced slur – came over the microphone. 

“It’th that time folkth! In thirty sheconds we’ll be in nineteen sheveventy-five!” 

Shouts of drunken reverie applauded the speech. James rolled his eyes. Bet it took him an hour to think up that one.  

“Okay come on wifth me now!” Jerry continued. “Ten! Nine! Eight!” 

The room took up the chant as they counted down to midnight. James found himself searching the room, looking for a familiar head of blonde hair. But if Juliet was in the crowd, he certainly couldn’t see her. Next thing he knew he was being hugged by Horace and everybody else in the general vicinity as they all welcomed in the new year. The music flared up again, inexplicably louder than it had been before, and James thought it was time to make a discreet exit. As he made for the door, not nearly quick enough to dodge lipstick-smudged kisses, he noted Miles somewhere ahead of him heading out the door with Miss Polka-Dot. 

James grinned.

“Son of a bitch.” 

The night air greeted him with cool reprieve. He could smell the ocean and grass, and thought nothing had ever smelled sweeter. It made a welcome change from the sweat and bad cologne wafting through the room behind him. As he headed down the steps he saw Amy walking, presumably toward her house with two glasses and an empty bottle, and waved his hand in greeting.

“Happy New Year,” he said.

“Happy New Year, Jim,” she replied.

“Off to bed?”

Amy nodded, a sadness in her expression. This would be her first new year without her husband.

“You have a nice night then,” James said.

“Thank you,” she said, gesturing with the wine glasses. “Juliet’s on the beach if you’re wanting to head out that way.”

“Thanks Amy.”

“Good night,” she said.

“‘Night,” he replied, watching as she retreated into her house. He wondered idly when he’d started caring whether people got home safely or not.

He found her sitting on the sand by herself, watching the waves break gently against the shore.

“Got room for one more?”

Juliet turned her head in his direction. 

“Hey there,” she said, smiling up at him. Her eyes were a little glassy, but it could just as easily have been the moonlight rather than the liquor.

“You okay there Sandra Dee?” he said, sitting down next to her.

Juliet nodded, a dopey grin on her face. “Yeah. Just a little too much wine, I think.” 

He smiled. “Amy okay?”

“She misses Paul,” she replied. “I don’t think she was up for a mass celebration.” 

“I don’t blame her,” James said, looking down at his fingers. “Losin’ someone you love ain’t easy, but losin’ someone like that , hardest thing in the world.”

Juliet looked at him and placed a hand on his knee. It was the first time she’d heard him mention his parents’ death. Granted she already knew,  knew that his father had shot his mother before turning the gun on himself, knew that he’d been hiding under the bed at the time, but she wasn’t sure if he’d ever really talked about it. She nodded as he looked back at her, understanding in her eyes. He knew that she knew, and his own eyes thanked her for saying nothing.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “You didn’t want to see out New Year's with ol’ Earth, Wind, and Fire back there?”

She laughed, softly. 

“Everybody sure is having a good time,” he added, pumping his eyebrows suggestively.

“I can see that,” she said, wiping the lipstick marks from his cheek. “You, uh, you've got a little something there.” 

James suddenly felt very warm, whether from the memory of being manhandled, or from her touch, he wasn’t sure. He hoped the darkness was enough to conceal his embarrassment, not that much of anything got past Juliet.

“Let’s just say people got a little friendly.” 

She laughed again, and it did something to his chest. “Well,” she said.  “It’s a very, um, liberal time.”

“Probably lucky you weren’t in there,” he said. “I’m sure anyone tryin’ to grab your ass woulda lost a limb.”

She smiled, somewhat shyly, before looking away.

“What?” 

“Nothing.”

He waited for whatever the “nothing” was.

“I just… I don’t know, I just assumed… I wouldn’t see you until sometime tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow,” he replied.

“You know what I mean,” she said.

He cocked his head, smiling in amusement. “I ain’t that far gone.”

“And if you were?” 

She paused, allowing her words to sink in. 

“Sorry,” she said, hiding her blunder beneath a sheepish smile. “That wasn’t appropriate.”

He waved it off. “I’ve woken up with enough regrets in my life. I don’t need to add anymore just yet.”

“I suppose waking up with a stranger on New Year's day is the ultimate cliché.” 

James studied her. “Talkin’ from experience there, blondie?”

And there it was. The look she was never quick enough to bury, but was swift enough to recover from.

“No I just – I’m not really a fan of New Year’s.”

James watched as one of her knees started to bounce. Her fidgeting was a sure sign he’d touched a nerve, and if he’d been completely sober he’d probably have left it alone.

“What happened?” 

“What happened when?” 

“On New Year’s.”

She looked away. “Why does something have to have happened for me to hate it?”

“Because it’s written all over your face,” he said. “Or it was, before you hid it behind one of those walls of yours.”

Juliet glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged and raised his arms up. “Sweetheart, I’m a conman, I used to read people for a livin’.”

She blinked a couple of times, wincing in her discomfort. 

“I guess,” she said. “I can be a little guarded.”

James gave a snort. “You got better security than Fort Knox.”

Juliet couldn’t help but smile, and James was glad for it.

She pressed her fingers to her temple, searching for the right words.

“I wasn’t always like this,” she said. “I…” She brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. “I guess a better word for me would have been… a doormat.”

“I’m s’posed to believe that?” he said, not taking his eyes off hers.

“You were a con man looking for vengeance, and now you’re…” Juliet smiles. “And now you are literally the camp’s moral police.”

James gave her a grin; it felt like a lifetime since he and Sayid had followed her out into the jungle.

“You mean you weren’t always out here, y’know, Othering around?”

“Is it really so hard to believe that I was a completely different person before I came to this Island?” she replied.

“Kinda, I mean, first time we met you said ‘Hey’ and then tasered my ass to the ground,” he said. “And with everything I see you do out here, I can’t imagine anything less.”

Juliet sighs, wondering how to explain.

“James, you wouldn’t recognize the woman I was.”

He knew from her tone and defeated expression that she was speaking the truth.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“I worked for a bio-research company before Richard recruited me to help with the Island’s fertility problems. My sister, Rachel, had trouble getting pregnant because of her cancer, and I immersed myself in my work in order to help her,” Juliet said. “One New Year’s Eve my colleagues convinced me to come and join the office party. We were all pretty much science nerds - none of us really strayed very far from the lab.”

She paused, looking up into the stars. “And it was fun, for a while at least… until I discovered my husband in the copy room with his pants down around his ankles and his personal assistant beneath him.”

James stared at her. 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure what he was doing up against the copier was an abuse of company property,” she added. “But he owned the company, so he could afford it.” 

James was still trying to process what she’d said.

“Wait… how… why the hell would anyone trade you for somebody else?” he said. “Have they seen you?”

Juliet laughed, trying to suppress it with a hand before giving him a curious look, as James scrambled to cover himself.

“I - uh - what I mean is… what did he say when he saw you?”

“He didn’t,” she said. “But even if he had, I don’t think he would have cared. That wasn’t the first time, and I know it wasn’t the last.”

They sat together, a companionable silence between them.

“He was an ass,” James said, eventually, stretching his arms out in front of him. She giggled at that. “If we ever get back to the future, I’m gonna kick his ass for you.”

“He’s dead,” Juliet said, touched by his indignation on her behalf. “But thank you.” 

James winced. He probably shouldn’t have been so harsh.

“Don’t worry about it,” Juliet said, realizing his discomfort. “Y’know, I cried when he died?”

He looked at her again, and somehow he wasn’t surprised that she would have so much compassion for someone who’d treated her so bad. 

“I didn’t really know how to live without Edmund Burke ,” she said. “Which is funny because I think he saw me more as his property , than his wife.”

“Did you ever confront him? About the affairs, I mean?”

She nodded. “He didn’t contest the divorce, on the condition that I continued to work for him. I guess he needed my brain more than he needed my companionship.” 

Juliet got up, suddenly, walking a few steps toward the ocean and wrapping her arms around herself.  “I was young, naïve and I didn’t know any better.”

She took deep breaths, trying to compose herself, and James gave her the space. He felt his own chest rise and fall, feeling the sudden urge to shoot something. It took him a few minutes to realize that it was because he was angry. He was angry for her .

Looking at her now, standing there with her back to him, her shoulders lifting slightly with each breath, he wondered when he’d crossed that line. Maybe it was familial, the kind of protective instinct you’re supposed to give to your family when they’re threatened. He wasn’t sure, he’d never had a family. Something triggered in his memory, right before Juliet had gone and broken her ankle, her words echoed back at him.

“They’re good people, and they’ve welcomed us into their lives, and they’ve given us all a home. I’m not searching for anything anymore, because for the first time in a very very long time, I’m actually okay. I’ve actually found something. I have a life. I have friends that feel like family. I have you.”

She was his family. Whether he wanted it or not, it didn’t matter. Fact is he couldn’t help that she was a part of his life, any more than she could help the fact that he was a part of hers. And he was okay with that. Whatever happened, whenever it happened, they were in this together. 

And he thought it was probably time he told her that.

Rising to his feet, James walked over to where she was standing. He reached out and took her hand in his. 

“I never had a best friend,” he said, looking out at the waves. “Not one who cared enough to get my back.”

She smiled at him, the movement causing a stray tear to catch in her eyelashes. 

“And I just wanted you to know,” he said, rolling his hand in the air. “I got yours .”

Juliet’s  lip trembled, her head making little nodding movements. 

“Thank you,” she said, gratitude shining in her eyes.

They stood in silence for a few seconds before she smiled and rolled her eyes. For two people who excelled in saying nothing, they’d just managed to cover an awful lot of ground, and she was suddenly very tired. Juliet rested her head on his shoulder, trying not to overthink it. She’d sworn to herself that she didn’t want to get this close to another man on, or because of, this island, and it suddenly occurred to her that she wasn’t doing a very good job following her own orders. But she was comfortable where she was, and he was comfortable enough to let her be there.

“Walk me home?” she said, lifting her chin to look up at him.

He reached out and brushed a hand against her cheek.

“You got it, blondie,” he replied.

She was incredibly close, and he was far too mesmerized by the smile she gave him to fight for any kind of self control. James didn’t want to take advantage of her vulnerability, and they’d both had too much alcohol to inject any sense of clarity into the moment. He wasn’t drunk. Neither was she. But they both knew better than to fall for a cliché. The only thought he could summon was that the reason she hadn’t moved was the same as his - she didn’t want to. He palmed her cheeks, one of his thumbs stroking gently against her jaw.

“James,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, trying to steady his breathing.

She was so damn different from anyone else he’d ever met - in the same way that the smell and sound of a thunderstorm is different to ordinary rain. When it rains, you get wet, simple as that. But when it storms, the whole sky lights up and you understand what it means to be alive. And dammit but James knew this storm was staring him down. Juliet was still looking at him, and her hand was on his arm, not pushing him away but rather, keeping him here. Right now they only had a couple of seconds before sense set in.

But he only needed one.

His lips sought hers, slowly brushing, and she was warm and soft - and a little sweet. He lingered there, adding a little pressure, feeling her response, the heat of something he wasn’t sure he understood. He pulled her flush against him, his hands pressing into the small of her back and she responded by parting her lips and inviting him in. Her arms were around his neck, then in his hair, damn the consequences. All she could taste was her, and all he could feel was the way she moved against him, her fingers pushing into the back of his neck, gentle but urgent. She’s the glow of heat from a fire, a glimpse of all the good in him, and she’s never close enough.

Flushed and breathless, they slowed, and with one last gentle kiss that almost belied their fervour, they broke apart.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. 

And embarrassed laughter followed.

A sheepish grin spread across his features, and Juliet covered her cheeks with her hands, before eliciting one of her own.

“Um…” she said.

“I…” he said.

Neither of them could construct their sentence.  

Silence fell between them, swallowing words better left unsaid.

James pointed in the direction of the barracks. “Want me to give you a head start?”

She smiled gratefully, nodding her head a few times, before backing up a few steps and turning to go.

“Hey!” he said, giving her a lop-sided smile.

Juliet turned back to look at him, her expression unreadable.

“Happy New Year, Juliet.”

She smiled, and her warmth flooded through him once more.

“Happy New Year, James.”

He watched her go, one half of him worried he’d just done something monumentally stupid, the other half still lost in the memory of her.

He knew she’d let him write this off to New Year’s, knew she wouldn’t expect anything from him, just as he knew she wouldn’t ask him for anything either. She would wake up tomorrow and still say “Good morning, James”, she’d still move his dusty boots outside with a small exasperated sigh, and she would still walk through the house in her towel searching for the hair tie she’d forgotten to take with her into the bathroom. She’d do it because she trusted him, knew that he needed the stability of a seemingly normal life as much as she did. Their friendship was more real than any other relationship he’d ever had. He knew by the way she sometimes stole the spoon out of his empty cereal bowl and stuck it into her cornflakes, because she was too lazy to walk to the kitchen, that she felt the same way. He didn’t want to add to the cliché and say she made him a better man, but some days he was convinced that he was trying to prove to her that he could be.

James remembered the day he’d been promoted to head of security, when the smile on her face and the pride in her eyes was all he needed to feel like he’d done a good thing. And he realized that perhaps being a better man was something he wanted too - for himself, for her, he didn’t know. 

But maybe, he thought , not knowing don’t matter.

He was already there.

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