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One. They meet at a park bench. Kate’s left behind her creamy foundation and business casual; Jack hasn’t shaved in a week. She doesn’t look away from Aaron playing in the sand box (she never takes him to the beach) when Jack lowers himself onto the bench next to her.
Two. “Where have you been.” It’s not a question, not even close. Jack hears the flatness in her tone but he can’t feel it, feel the way it should cut into his skin (he should have waited until he was sober. He never would have come if he were sober).
Three. “You better leave before Aaron sees you.” Jack reeks of whiskey (desperation); he holds his breath to disappear. He watches Aaron, banging on a plastic bucket with joyful abandon, so he can pretend not to be watching Kate. She’s right, time to go. (He would’ve made a terrible father).
One. They meet at a park bench. Juliet’s been waiting for four minutes when he strolls over, a cup of Starbuck’s coffee in one hand. She rises to greet him, surreptitiously drying her hand against her jeans before offering it to him. “It’s really nice to meet you, Doctor Shephard.”
Two. He fumbles switching the cup from his right hand to his left, and just like that Juliet switches from annoyed to charmed by his choice of venue. She’d wager a guess that Jack Shephard has that effect often. “Dr. Burke,” he says, finally reaching out to shake her hand.
Three. She notices his hand shake in two ways: Dr. Burke approves of his strong grip, pumping twice before letting go; Juliet feels a burn ignite in her stomach from the contact—he has surgeon’s hands—that cools when he withdraws. Her disappointment fades when he grins and sits down.
One. They meet at a park bench. Kate’s been back at Dharma for two days and Juliet is living in a haze of sublimated panic (she clings to James after sex, sometimes twice in one night). They watch the empty path in silence, strangers (but not) in too many ways.
Two. “Why did you stay here?” Kate asks, and Juliet knows there are so many answers, too many answers. Kate, who has been always alone, will not understand what it is like to know she can watch but never, never touch. (What happened, happened). Rachel is not the right answer.
Three. “James asked me to.” James, not Sawyer, and beneath that is a layer of he needed me and beneath that another, hidden any port in the storm, right? Juliet watches Kate watch the ground, and she’s too tired to hurt this woman anymore. “You would have done the same.”
One. They meet at a park bench. Jack arrives early, this time, and he wears a suit (he knows without thinking Sawyer will be in jeans). Sawyer shows up twenty minutes late, and Jack can’t help the flush of envy (Sawyer will always be able to get away with murder).
Two. “How you doin’, Doc?” And the worst part is, Sawyer’s the only person to ask outside of meetings, and even he doesn’t really care (closest thing Jack has to a friend). He imagines visiting his mother (without Sawyer): hi mom, I’m forty-five days sober. I don’t have any friends.
Three. “Okay,” and really that just about sums it up. Jack goes to meetings and eats three meals daily and the highlight of his fucking week is sitting in mostly-awkward silence with a man he doesn’t understand one bit (but Sawyer knows Jack, and this is what keeps Jack sane).
One. They meet at a park bench. He finds her without having to ask (she’s always appreciated that about him). Kate imagines his fingers ghosting against the back of her neck, lingering above her collarbone and then trailing down her side. (She shivers). James sits with a quiet sigh, uncomfortable.
Two. “What’re you doing, Freckles?” The question is frighteningly gentle, a reminder of how far this man will go for her; for once the tenderness soothes instead of rankles. She doesn’t answer (there is no answer) but she shifts on the bench, leans in a little closer. Their shoulders brush.
Three. “We should buy the place,” and she doesn’t hesitate (she is proud of this). She feels James stiffen, sit up straighter, but before he can speak she reaches over and presses one finger against his lips. His smile feels like a kiss (maybe she can stop running now. Maybe.)
One. They meet at a park bench. It is their third date, but it’s really so, so much more. Juliet doesn’t have to explain why she needs him to meet her sister (he appreciates the chance). She sees James is already seated, slouching in a way that is infinitely familiar.
Two. He stands up to great her with a kiss (she feels safer with him than with herself). Juliet revels in the glide of her fingertips over his shirt, the solidity of his presence. She takes the moments before Rachel arrives to inhale him. He kisses her cheek, her lips.
Three. The way he holds her is different from anybody else and it would frighten her—this level of intensity, almost too fast. Instead she leans into his touch and memorizes his smile (so familiar, so soon. She’s a day late for her period, but she hasn’t started to worry.)
Four: One day, Aaron stops asking.
Four: They will make brilliant colleagues (never lovers).
Four: Chains will attach themselves to Juliet’s waist and Kate will try (fail) to save her.
Four: They kiss once (they are both drunk) and then Sawyer moves to Florida and Jack gets back on the wagon. (The end).
Four: They never marry (Kate stops running).
Four: When their son is born, they will name him Jacob.
Five: Juliet’s body never leaves the island; James is lost without her; Jack’s too late to save anyone; Kate can’t find what she’s looking for.
It’s all already gone.