Chapter Text
Detective James Ford was more than a little pleased to see the black BMW alone in the driveway. He pulled his Ford Mustang up beside the other, surprised, if not a little concerned, to find Jack Shephard home this early.
He’d lived with the man for long enough to know this wasn’t the norm. Jack’s hours at the hospital usually kept him long past dinner time, and James had gotten used to either eating dinner on his own, or waiting to eat when Jack returned.
It was surprising that he was home, but also unsettling. Jack was very devoted to his job, and James was painfully aware of how demanding the job could be. (Yes, detective work was demanding in its own right, but Jack’s patients trusted him with their lives). Even though he had to play “hero”, James knew the job had begun taking its toll. It was why Jack had joined the weekly AA meetings. He was making progress and was close to succeeding in achieving recovery. James had been there, a faithful partner, every step of the way.
They’d been together for two years now, and during those two years, they had developed the kind of connection he had once thought was only a fantasy. Aside from being hot as fuck, Jack was far more empathetic an individual than James had realized. He’d had to adjust to Jack’s uncanny ability of somehow always knowing what he was thinking without having to say it. And when he had adjusted, he realized to his amazement that he could do the same, but with Jack. They were beginning to fill in each others’ sentences to a tee.
Perhaps this was why a sense of dread overcame James as he paused in the doorway. He lingered there for a moment, wondering why it was so quiet. He didn’t cross the threshold, instead peering inside as if afraid to enter his own home (which was ironic and kind of silly, considering he put himself in harm’s way for a living).
The house itself was unusually dark. All the lights were off, as if nobody was home. That, and the growing sense of dread and anxiety in his stomach, was what compelled James to push forward. “...Jack?” he shouted.
Silence.
“Doc…?”
The silence remained. It did nothing to calm his nerves. It took a lot to scare James Ford, but the silence in the house was like a crime scene.
Thankfully, there was no actual crime being committed—there was only Jack Shephard sitting alone in the living room, in the dark, by himself, and with a half-empty glass in his hand.
Bourbon, James realized with surprise. He was drinking bourbon. The smell of it scorched his nose. “Jack…?”
“...In here,” came the weak, and almost raspy, reply.
Something about the way Jack spoke made James’s throat hitch and his stomach clench. It almost didn’t sound like Jack. It sounded afraid—and Jack Shephard was never afraid.
“Hey Babe.” James spoke nonchalantly as he picked up his step. “I wasn’t expecting you home so early.” No response. “Hey—” James rounded the corner so he could see the others’ face, stopping short when Jack’s profile came into view. The man was just sitting there, staring grimly into the distance. “Babe?” James questioned. “You, uh. You—okay?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“No.” Jack snapped, without looking at him. “I’m not okay.” He spoke abruptly, sounding almost irritated by the question, causing James to take a step back. For a moment he just stood there, unsure of how to proceed, before taking a seat next to him on the couch. He would keep saying nothing, patiently waiting for the other man to speak. He knew if Jack’s patience was this low, he had to let the other man take the first step.
But the man said nothing. He continued to swirl his drink, staring off into the distance, and secretly scaring James to the point of placing a gentle hand on his shoulder—startled when it made Jack jump, as if he’d been burned. “C’mon Jack—” James spoke as gently as he could, “It’s me, remember? James? I always got your back.”
He’d been hoping the common and reassuring refrain they reserved for each other would be enough to shake the man out of this strange stupor. He wasn’t expecting Jack to break down a moment later, sobbing uncontrollably and brokenly into his hands.
James couldn’t move. He could only stare at the scene unfolding. He had never seen the man cry so hard or openly, and it stabbed him right in the heart. “Oh, Baby—” he murmured, rubbing Jack’s back as the man’s sobs dwindled to weeping. “What happened? Please,” he coaxed as gently as possible, “just tell me what—”
“Claire—” the words were barely intelligible as Jack finally managed to speak, his whole body trembling and gasping, “Claire’s—de-dead,” he blurted, and his face crumpled again, looking away from James’s wide and horrified eyes, “She—her Mom—they were in a—car accident—today. They—” Jack’s face grimaced painfully. “They didn’t make it. Oh—” His shoulders hitched and he buried his face in his hands again. “Oh, my God–”
James was speechless.
Not Sweet young Claire! Not Jack’s beautiful Australian half-sister. It just couldn’t be.
He’d met Claire three years ago, when they’d both gone to Australia to attend Jack’s father’s funeral. He remembered her now as a sweet young blonde Aussie who was witty enough to make him laugh at a funeral.
“Oh, My God….” He understood now why Jack’s face was so grim, and his skin was so pale. “Doc….C’mere,” he whispered, gathering the other man in his arms. “Shhh. I gotchu,” he whispered against Jack’s ear as the man wept on his shoulder. “I gotchu.”
“She—” Jack sounded like he was being tortured and it made James’s heart ache. “She—she was only 32,” he choked out. “I-I just can’t believe it—”
“Now I understand the drinking,” James nodded at the glass. “I think I’m gonna go ‘n grab one for myself—”
“NO—” Jack stopped him in his tracks, his voice suddenly steady and firm. “I’m not letting you,” said Jack, shaking his head, “You’ve come too far in your recovery for that.”
James grit his teeth. He knew he had to be a good example, but damn he wanted a drink. “Whatever you say, Doc,” he growled as he returned to the couch. As soon as he sat down, a realization struck him. “Holy shit—” he started, eyes widening with horror, “what about Aaron? Was he—”
“At school,” Jack answered grimly. “He—he’s okay,” Jack added wiping his eyes, “They were—Claire and Carole—were going to go pick him up for—” Jack’s face began to twist with pain, “his—birthday—party—” A strangled sob escaped, but made no sound and Jack pitched forward into James’s lap. “Lindsey—Claire’s half-sister—she said—” James could barely make out the words. “--I’m his appointed Guardian in case they—” Jack’s shoulders hitched. “In case they didn’t make it and—they didn’t make it,” he murmured, his face strangely drawing blank again.
James just stared. He couldn’t say a word. “Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”
“Yeah…” Jack nodded, his face paler than before, “we’re gonna be taking custody of Aaron….and for the first time in my life—” Jack shook his head in disbelief. “I’m going to be a father.” He looked at James cautiously with misty eyes, knowing this could open a whole can of worms. “We both are,” he announced, his voice wet with awe and adoration, yearning with desire for things to come.
And that was when James wondered if perhaps he must be dead, and this was his punishment ... .or perhaps, this could all just be a dream (or maybe, rather, a nightmare)….because he loved Jack, and he would do anything for him…but…a father —? He already was a father—but a lousy one, at that—he’d all but sent one card a year at Christmas to his estranged daughter, Clementine, who was already 10 and living with her mother, Cassidy (an ex-lover) far away in Albequerque, New Mexico.
What examples of fatherhood did he have to follow? His own father had shot his mother—and then himself—in front of him, when he was only eight years old. The experience had messed him up for a long time, and if he hadn’t become a cop, he might have become a criminal. At least as a cop, he could remain at arm’s length while doing noble deeds for society. He wasn’t very good with people in general, let alone kids—and now, he’d have to fly to Australia to help retrieve one.
“When do we leave?” he asked hoarsely.
For the first time since he’d arrived, Jack’s eyes showed signs of life. Brimming with pride, he eagerly leaned forward and kissed James passionately on the lips. James melted easily into the other’s embrace, trying to ignore the lingering, and ever-growing sense of dread that still remained.