Post by Jack Shephard on Aug 20, 2008 21:06:24 GMT -5
"Jack! JACK!"
It was always the same. He was standing on the beach, looking out at the crystal-clear ocean, but there was always a sense of loss. Of mourning. He wanted to stay, and yet, when he awoke, he knew he couldn't go back. It was a extreme catch-22 that made Jack's head spin, not to mention rising his alcohol intake.
However, the sound of a voice, nearly screaming his name made him turn from the water, to look towards the jungle. The jungle shifted to the giant black cloud of smoke, and his eyes widened as in came towards him, faster than a freight train--
"Jack! JACK! JACK COME DOWN NOW!"
Jack jerked awake, jolting up in the bed as he heard his mother's screams. Not even bothering to throw on shoes or a shirt, he padded out of his room clad only in sweatpants and down the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Mom! Mom, what's--"
He saw his mother, wide eyed, standing in the kitchen with a hand over her mouth. She was crying, and instantly, he wondered if someone had died. Had a college of his father died? "Mom, hey." he said, sleep still fogging his eyes and brain.
"Oh, Jack. Jack, I am so sorry I didn't--"
Her voice was tearfilled, and as she turned to him, she moved, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm so sorry I didn't see him. I just wanted it to go away; your father would have been so proud, he looked so beautiful--"
Almost as if in a movie, his mother's voice shifted, being replaced by the KTLA.
"Just an hour ago, at the famous Roosevelt Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles, the bodies of James Ford, aged 37, and the infant body of Aaron Littleton were found in room 412, victims of an apparent robbery. James Ford and Aaron Littleton were both survivors of the Oceanic Flight 815 crash..."
It was almost as if a dream, voices floated in and out until he was only left witht he sound of his breathing.
Oh god...
"Aaron..."
He couldn't even collect his thoughts together. H-He...he had just seen Sawyer! And Aaron! And...oh god, Claire...Claire was at Santa Rosa...
Tears burnt at his eyes, spilling over them as his mouth hung open in shock. "T-They--they have to be wrong, I just--I just saw them. I just saw them last night, when I left he--Aaron was sleeping and Sawyer had told me to--"
The cellphone on the counter buzzed loudly, nearly falling off the table before Jack moved, grabbing it. His voice was flat and expressionless as he flipped open the phone. "Shephard. No. No, I want--I want her ready for discharge. Yes, I want her transfered over to Saint Sebastian's. Yes, the psych unit at Saint Sebastians. Her SON just died, Henry, you stupid prick! And DON'T you DARE tell her, or I swear to god I'll make your life a LIVING hell, do you understand me?! I want her ready for discharge in an hour. I'll be over there. Just--Just don't ask QUESTIONS, just FUCKING DO IT."
Jack slammed the cellphone shut, hearing the sound echo against the silent room.
"Jack--"
Margo jolted as Jack grabbed a glass and hurled it, hearing it shatter against the steel refrigorator. She brought a hand up quickly to her mouth, actually fearful. "J-Jack--"
It was almost as if he couldn't breathe. What had he done? What had happened that he had fucked up so bad? His chest felt tight, and it hurt to even take a breath. "I--I have to go see her."
"Jack, you're in no state to drive, let me drive you--"
"I need to think. I've--I've got to think, Mom."
He felt his mother's hand on his arm, and another on his cheek. "Jack." she said sadly, and then moved, kissing his cheek before pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I love you so much and I'm so sorry."
His mind was numb, dressing in a suit and tie, he barely even remembered to breathe as he dressed and walked out of the door. Driving was a blur, and as he pulled into the parking garage of Santa Rosa, there was a nurse waiting at the entrence for him.
"Doctor Shephard, she's sedated."
"Then wake her. I want her lucid."
"Doctor--"
"Did I stutter? I want her AWAKE. She deserves to know. She deserves to know I failed her."
He knew the nurse didn't know what he was speaking of, how he failed Claire by stealing Aaron away from her. About how he had ruined her life and about how if she wanted to take a knife to his heart at that very moment, he would gladly let her. His mind was spinning, his hands were shaking, and as he came upon her white, sterile room, he felt instantly sick. Bile rose up in his throat and he swallowed the burning mess down. She was slowly starting to come around, and as he watched her, it made him hurt even more.
What had he done?
"I know you don't want to see me. I know you hate me and I know you want nothing moree than to see me dead and god, Claire, if I could end it all for you right here, I would. I'd gladly give my life for that." Jack said, trying to keep his voice even, his face from shifting like it wanted to. But the sound he knew was betraying him. "But--Claire, you have to listen to me. I am--I am so SO sorry for what---" he wasn't even able to finish the sentence; his words got caught in his throat. "I'm having you transfered back to Saint Sebastian's and--and my mother, she has a room for you, she already said she doesn't care anymore what happened--"
He was rambling. He must have not been making any sense whatsoever, but at the moment, his mind was flying, spinning wildly out of control and his hands shook as he brought them to his face to rub it. "Claire, god, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I did this to you, I'm so sorry this happened."
It was always the same. He was standing on the beach, looking out at the crystal-clear ocean, but there was always a sense of loss. Of mourning. He wanted to stay, and yet, when he awoke, he knew he couldn't go back. It was a extreme catch-22 that made Jack's head spin, not to mention rising his alcohol intake.
However, the sound of a voice, nearly screaming his name made him turn from the water, to look towards the jungle. The jungle shifted to the giant black cloud of smoke, and his eyes widened as in came towards him, faster than a freight train--
"Jack! JACK! JACK COME DOWN NOW!"
Jack jerked awake, jolting up in the bed as he heard his mother's screams. Not even bothering to throw on shoes or a shirt, he padded out of his room clad only in sweatpants and down the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Mom! Mom, what's--"
He saw his mother, wide eyed, standing in the kitchen with a hand over her mouth. She was crying, and instantly, he wondered if someone had died. Had a college of his father died? "Mom, hey." he said, sleep still fogging his eyes and brain.
"Oh, Jack. Jack, I am so sorry I didn't--"
Her voice was tearfilled, and as she turned to him, she moved, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm so sorry I didn't see him. I just wanted it to go away; your father would have been so proud, he looked so beautiful--"
Almost as if in a movie, his mother's voice shifted, being replaced by the KTLA.
"Just an hour ago, at the famous Roosevelt Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles, the bodies of James Ford, aged 37, and the infant body of Aaron Littleton were found in room 412, victims of an apparent robbery. James Ford and Aaron Littleton were both survivors of the Oceanic Flight 815 crash..."
It was almost as if a dream, voices floated in and out until he was only left witht he sound of his breathing.
Oh god...
"Aaron..."
He couldn't even collect his thoughts together. H-He...he had just seen Sawyer! And Aaron! And...oh god, Claire...Claire was at Santa Rosa...
Tears burnt at his eyes, spilling over them as his mouth hung open in shock. "T-They--they have to be wrong, I just--I just saw them. I just saw them last night, when I left he--Aaron was sleeping and Sawyer had told me to--"
The cellphone on the counter buzzed loudly, nearly falling off the table before Jack moved, grabbing it. His voice was flat and expressionless as he flipped open the phone. "Shephard. No. No, I want--I want her ready for discharge. Yes, I want her transfered over to Saint Sebastian's. Yes, the psych unit at Saint Sebastians. Her SON just died, Henry, you stupid prick! And DON'T you DARE tell her, or I swear to god I'll make your life a LIVING hell, do you understand me?! I want her ready for discharge in an hour. I'll be over there. Just--Just don't ask QUESTIONS, just FUCKING DO IT."
Jack slammed the cellphone shut, hearing the sound echo against the silent room.
"Jack--"
Margo jolted as Jack grabbed a glass and hurled it, hearing it shatter against the steel refrigorator. She brought a hand up quickly to her mouth, actually fearful. "J-Jack--"
It was almost as if he couldn't breathe. What had he done? What had happened that he had fucked up so bad? His chest felt tight, and it hurt to even take a breath. "I--I have to go see her."
"Jack, you're in no state to drive, let me drive you--"
"I need to think. I've--I've got to think, Mom."
He felt his mother's hand on his arm, and another on his cheek. "Jack." she said sadly, and then moved, kissing his cheek before pulling him into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I love you so much and I'm so sorry."
His mind was numb, dressing in a suit and tie, he barely even remembered to breathe as he dressed and walked out of the door. Driving was a blur, and as he pulled into the parking garage of Santa Rosa, there was a nurse waiting at the entrence for him.
"Doctor Shephard, she's sedated."
"Then wake her. I want her lucid."
"Doctor--"
"Did I stutter? I want her AWAKE. She deserves to know. She deserves to know I failed her."
He knew the nurse didn't know what he was speaking of, how he failed Claire by stealing Aaron away from her. About how he had ruined her life and about how if she wanted to take a knife to his heart at that very moment, he would gladly let her. His mind was spinning, his hands were shaking, and as he came upon her white, sterile room, he felt instantly sick. Bile rose up in his throat and he swallowed the burning mess down. She was slowly starting to come around, and as he watched her, it made him hurt even more.
What had he done?
"I know you don't want to see me. I know you hate me and I know you want nothing moree than to see me dead and god, Claire, if I could end it all for you right here, I would. I'd gladly give my life for that." Jack said, trying to keep his voice even, his face from shifting like it wanted to. But the sound he knew was betraying him. "But--Claire, you have to listen to me. I am--I am so SO sorry for what---" he wasn't even able to finish the sentence; his words got caught in his throat. "I'm having you transfered back to Saint Sebastian's and--and my mother, she has a room for you, she already said she doesn't care anymore what happened--"
He was rambling. He must have not been making any sense whatsoever, but at the moment, his mind was flying, spinning wildly out of control and his hands shook as he brought them to his face to rub it. "Claire, god, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I did this to you, I'm so sorry this happened."
