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FIC: Lost - The Doctor Is In - PG-13 - Jack/Boone
I have written Lost fanfiction.
The Doctor Is In – a Jack-centric story.
Pairings include: Jack/Boone, Charlie/Sayid, Sayid/Sawyer, Claire/Shannon
TITLE: The Doctor Is In – Jack/Boone
AUTHOR: Melanie
PAIRINGS: Jack/Boone, Charlie/Sayid, Sayid/Sawyer/ Claire/Shannon
RATING: PG-13 - For language.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing at all, least of all those contained within.
The Doctor Is In
Jack found the notebook (with only a few sheets missing) in one of the overhead compartments. Shuffling through carry-on bags looking for something, anything that could help him ease the Marshall’s suffering.
He wasn’t delusional enough at this point to think that rescue would come in time to save the man’s life.
Sixteen years, christ he didn’t think the Marshall was going to make it sixteen days, and at this point sixteen hours was pushing it.
He wrote the date at the top of the page, smoothed down the pad and proceeded to cover the first sheet of paper, front and back, with his observations on the Marshall’s condition.
Known wounds, how he’d treated them. Temperature and blood pressure he guessed at as he hadn’t yet found his own luggage with the tools of his trade. He made notes on blood loss (a lot) and his futile efforts to save the man.
He tuned out the sounds of the mans suffering and the tiny, little voice inside him that told him that he should do something instead of watching the man die slowly.
He was a doctor, not a murderer and he wouldn’t allow this place to make him anything he already wasn’t.
******************************************************************************
Marshall dead.
Jack wrote this on the bottom of the back of the first page. He paused and wrote the date next to it. It seemed a fitting end to the first page of his notes.
He didn’t elaborate. There was no need, he would never forget what had happened, what he’d been forced to do and since rescue was only a fleeting thought he didn’t think anyone would have a need to decipher his notes.
He glanced down at his hands and noted that they’d finally stopped shaking.
He could no longer say he wasn’t a murderer. He didn’t think he could call himself a doctor or a healer any longer.
******************************************************************************
The food that had crashed with them was almost entirely gone.
Locke had constructed some makeshift spears and he and Sawyer had speared some fish that would last a few days.
Jack watched it all happen with a detached air.
He felt separated from the group and knew that it couldn’t be good. Some would say he was wallowing, he avoided Sawyer and Kate unable to forget that it had been them that had forced him to change what he was.
He spent his days stocking his makeshift infirmary, Boone appearing in the mornings to help him. For all his ineptness with CPR the boy was willing to learn and that was saying something. And it would help if there was at least one other person that could play doctor when needed. He hadn’t forgotten that there was something that didn’t want them on the Island.
Something that was a lot meaner and a lot bigger then all of them.
Locke had tried, unsuccessfully, to hunt it.
On their fifteenth morning on the Island Boone appeared with a small notebook and helped him catalogue what medicine they’d been able to find. They had five different types of allergy medications, aspirin of varying strengths and acne medication.
As long as nobody suffered from anything besides the minor headache, an allergic reaction to sand or found the need to clean up their acne for one of the other 45 survivors they’d be okay.
He didn’t think they’d be that lucky.
He was going to have to make the trek back to the wreckage that was the front of the plane. He needed to get the first aid kit and he needed to search the overhead compartments for more medicine. What he’d found in the section that had crashed with them wasn’t going to last long.
And with whatever was sharing the Island with them still out there he was pretty sure that someone was going to need more help then that soon.
******************************************************************************
Boone brought him his first patient, Claire with Shannon tagging along behind them was probably only weeks away from delivering.
Jack had been desperately searching for something other than the 500 milligram Tylenol to use as a pain killer because while Claire swore that she wanted to deliver naturally Jack didn’t think that the rest of the survivors would think that was such a great idea.
And not just because she looked like she had a set of lungs on her.
He’d instructed her to lie on the makeshift pallet and tried to remember his two rotations in ob-gyn. It had been a while.
Boone watched with avid eyes, soaking up everything that he did, handing him whatever he asked for. Warm hand on his shoulder, leaning over him to watch as he touched Claire’s stomach. Asking him quiet questions; why are you doing that, are you going to do this, I saw this on TV would that work?
Jack tried to ignore the warm breath against the back of his neck and concentrate on his patient.
Shannon stood on Claire’s other side and held the other girls hand staring at him with eyes that dared him to order her to leave.
He wouldn’t have thought that the two women would be friends, in the real world they probably wouldn’t have been.
******************************************************************************
Jack had Boone cut out his stitches a week after he looked Claire over for the first time. They were regular threads from a sewing kit that he’d been lucky enough to find intact and he suddenly missed his clean, somewhat quiet hospital and his fully stocked suture kit that would have taken care of itself.
He swore that when rescue came he would never take them for granted again.
The sun was high in the sky, probably around noon and he wondered if he remembered how to construct a sun dial if he could convince someone else to make it for him.
It would be nice if they could tell time again, so far he hadn’t seen anyone alive with a watch and he’d ignored Sawyer’s suggestion of taking it off one of the dead bodies.
He’d scavenge through their belongings for their medications but he wouldn’t do the same to their persons. They were still people even if they were dead and he wasn’t a grave robber. He had to draw the line somewhere after all and that was the only line that Kate and Sawyer had left him.
Boone’s hands were steady and sure as he cut through the black thread that Kate had sewn into his back weeks earlier. He would have asked her to do it but Boone had somehow become his apprentice and the boy deserved the opportunity to learn everything that he could. If something happened to Jack they needed someone else that could dispense Theraflu and Tylenol.
“These are really neat,” Boone commented. Voice soft and quiet and Jack fought back a shiver at the accusatory tone. Who else do you trust; this is supposed to be my job. The boy sounded like he had a temper, Jack had always been drawn to men with tempers, he blamed his mother. “Who did them?”
“Kate,” Jack bit his lip, the knife was cool against his back where Boone was holding it still and Jack hoped that he wasn’t going to get territorial and cut the wound open again just so he could sew it back up.
Boone made a noise in the back of his throat and continued, Jack relaxed when he was silent.
“I didn’t know you were hurt during the crash,” Boone finally said. “You didn’t act hurt.”
“There was too much to do, other people were hurt worse than me.”
Boone’s hand was warm against his back, a slight pressure on his skin and Jack knew he was tugging the thread loose.
The boys’ movements were competent and Jack wondered if he’d ever thought of med school… or if he’d only ever wanted to be a lifeguard.
******************************************************************************
Charlie and Sayid were fighting Jack decided. It was the only explanation for why Sawyer was following Sayid into the shelter and Charlie was following after Claire, Shannon, Hurley and Boone.
Boone complained very loudly that Charlie snored, Charlie countered with the fact that Boone talked in his sleep casting a vaguely triumphant look at Jack when the boy flushed.
Jack just tried to ignore them all as much as possible. They were all stuck with one another, 45 vastly different people and unless the things sharing the Island with them attacked them on the beach (which he swore was only a matter of time) they had to learn to live with each other.
Walt had taken to hanging out in the Infirmary shelter with him in the afternoon. Lonely and desperate for companionship, there were no other kids his age among the survivors.
He couldn’t hang out with his father after all and Locke, who was his only other constant companion besides Vincent, was all to often off hunting to bring home something for them to eat at dinner.
Jack wondered when he’d started thinking of the beach and this Island as home.
Left, it seemed, with no other choices Walt would sit on the sand cross-legged and listen as Jack and Boone went over what they had left. Discussing plans to try and trek back to where the front of the plane was located again to see what they could find there, the boy wanted to go, and offered to let Vincent come with them.
Jack didn’t think his father would let him out his sight but he might allow the dog to accompany them on their trip.
Walt was a good kid, but he was the only kid and Jack didn’t think anyone would forgive him if something happened to him while they were together.
Michael always came by at what Jack had taken to calling one in the afternoon (he’d not yet convinced someone to build a sun dial) and led Walt and Vincent away. Walt talking a mile a minute about what he’d learned that day.
Jack hadn’t yet told Michael that he wasn’t a school or a daycare and he didn’t think he would.
He kind of liked the kid.
******************************************************************************
They made the trek alone, just the two of them, if you didn’t count the fact that Vincent was trotting along proudly in front of them as if leading the way.
Jack had put it off as long as he dared but Claire was nearing what she’d told him was her ‘official’ delivery date and they needed to find something to help her when she hit it.
He’d left her in Hurley’s capable if not a little bit shaky hands; he’d wanted Boone to stay with her but the boy refused to be left behind. So he’d pulled Hurley aside and told him exactly what to do if something happened. As long as she didn’t start bleeding Jack thought he’d be fine.
“What do you think it’s going to be?” Boone asked when they were about halfway to where he remembered the front half of the plane being.
“I don’t know,” Jack stated honestly. And it honestly wouldn’t matter, there wasn’t going to be any baby shower for Claire. No blue or pink blankets or baby clothes.
They’d be lucky if they could configure something for her to use as a crib when the time came.
“Shannon thinks it’s a boy, so does Claire for that matter,” Boone said thoughtfully.
Jack muttered something noncommittally. People were pairing off now. Together.
Charlie and Sayid had been together and then had a fight and were now not speaking. Sayid had compounded that split by starting something up with Sawyer that Jack’d had the misfortune of stumbling upon. He’d thought the men hated each other, and they probably still did. They still snarked and bitched at each other, it just seemed that they’d found another outlet for whatever it was that they didn’t like about each other.
Jack very carefully ignored the fact that Sayid watched Charlie with barely hid longing, that Charlie wouldn’t look at Sayid at all and Sawyer watched both of them with suspicion, as if he thought they were fucking around behind his back.
He didn’t have a problem with alternative lifestyles; he’d had one himself after all so he couldn’t really throw stones. He really hoped that they were being safe, he didn’t think he could help them if they weren’t.
He did wonder where they’d found the lube and the condoms, or if they were even bothering with the condoms since they were probably all going to die horrible deaths anyway.
From comments that Boone had made he thought Claire and Shannon might be working towards that as well, although he at least hoped they waited until after the baby was born at least to start something officially.
Vincent barked at them and Jack quickened his steps, Boone close enough behind him that he could almost, but not quite feel his body heat. He wanted to be back on the beach before night fall.
He could see the front of the plane. It looked the same as it had almost a month earlier when Kate, Charlie and he had found the pilot alive and then seen him dragged from the front of the plane and his blood splattered on the remaining windows.
He hoped that neither he nor Boone would have any need to go into the cockpit. Although the rain that they’d gotten since then should have washed away the remains of that horror.
It worried him that they hadn’t seen the pilots’ body during the hike there; he hadn’t wanted to see it but to have it totally missing from where it been hanging from the trees disturbed him.
“Christ,” Boone muttered behind him, Jack ignored the fact that he was close enough that he could feel the vibrations from Boone’s body as he spoke. Just one, tiny movement and they’d be full on body touching.
He bit back a sigh and took a step so they weren’t standing so close. He tried to remind his hormones that just because Boone was a pretty boy that spent more time with him than anybody else didn’t mean that he was at all interested in anything besides what Jack could teach him.
******************************************************************************
Jack took the right side of the plane, Boone took the left and Vincent sat at the back of the plane. Tongue lolling, panting quietly as he watched the trees.
Even with the dog Jack jumped at every little sound from outside the plane, Boone swearing led him to believe that the boy was doing the same thing.
Jack almost kept the dog with him, he really didn’t want to explain to Walt why his dog was dead if it came to it.
He’d already put the first aid kit from the front of the plane in his bag and started going through the rest of the overhead compartments. The ones that were intact anyway.
He put any blankets and pillows that he could find in one. Boone and he had made that decision on the way there. They’d each brought two makeshift bags. One for blankets and pillows to distribute, the other for any medications and toiletries that they could find.
He dumped whole toiletry kits into the bag. They’d go through them later, disperse the toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap and shampoo among the rest of the survivors.
“Eureka,” he could hear the wild grin in Boone’s voice.
“What’d you find?” he sighed and hefted the bags over his shoulder.
He hadn’t found much to help them. More aspirin and from one of the first class overhead compartments he’d found an almost full insulin kit. Nobody had come forward with a need for it yet but they could always find other uses for the needles.
“Penicillin, Amoxicillin…” Boone sounded thoroughly pleased with himself and as Jack came up behind him he turned a bright, blinding smile on him.
Pretty boy, Jack thought. Pretty straight boy, he reminded himself before he did something stupid and kissed him.
“Full?”
“Pretty close to,” Boone was still grinning at him and Jack found himself returning it before he even realized what he was doing. He patted his arm for lack of anything better to do.
“Good job.”
If anything the compliment made Boone’s smile brighter. The smile only dimming when they heard Vincent whine and a crash through the brush.
Two sets of wide eyes turned toward where Vincent was standing, growling at something in the underbrush.
Boone hurriedly dumped the rest of the kit he’d been sorting through in his bag; Jack adjusted his hold on his bags so he wouldn’t lose them when they started running.
Boone nodded and Jack started moving slowly toward Vincent.
Stopping when the dog whined again and then swearing under his breath, ignoring the fact that Boone was now laughing behind him.
“Walt what the hell are you doing here?!”
Oh Michael was going to be pissed.
******************************************************************************
Walt was grounded.
Jack would have lectured him the entire way back to their camp if he hadn’t been afraid of drawing an attack. Instead he’d followed Vincent, and kept Walt between him and Boone. He’d tied his bags together so if it became necessary he wouldn’t lose them but could still carry Walt.
They’d got to the beach a little bit before sunset, Michael falling to his knees and hugging Walt tightly before launching into a tirade that had everyone backing away not wanting to get involved.
The result of that tirade was Walt’s subsequent grounding.
Jack couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad for the boy, he’d put himself in danger.
******************************************************************************
Boone arrived with Charlie in tow the morning after Walt’s grounding.
He’d pushed him into a set of seats from the plane that Jack had commandeered to function as a sort of waiting room, and then stood over him, arms crossed as Charlie sat there silently.
Jack glanced from Boone back to Charlie trying to garner any type of hint as to why the two were there. No more information seemed forthcoming from Boone who appeared to be grinding his teeth so instead Jack focused on Charlie.
Pale and shaking although he tried to hide the latter by holding his hands together between his knees.
Jack shook his head, sighed softly then kneeled before him. “What were you taking?” he asked quietly. He ignored the surprise on Boone’s face and the way that Charlie’s seemed to crumple in on itself.
Listened as the boy explained, or tried to explain he didn’t make much sense. Words falling from his lips, nonsense syllables. Jack finally coaxed him from the chair and settled him on a pallet. He couldn’t give him anything, didn’t dare to. Charlie would have to suffer through the worst of it on his own.
He turned to Boone, mouth opening to ask how he’d found out when he was cut off by a shout from Shannon.
They both turned to see Shannon and Hurley half carrying, half dragging Claire in their direction.
“She’s in pain, help her,” Shannon screamed at him and Jack pushed himself into action.
******************************************************************************
Sayid appeared in the Infirmary, a coffee pot salvaged from the plane in one hand.
Charlie was laying on his side, watching as Jack and Boone tended to Claire. Hurley had left at the first sight of blood and Shannon after a brief hour where Jack thought she was going to pass out had finally pulled herself together and was now holding Claire’s hand, brushing a wet cloth over her brow and crooning coaxing, pleading words into her ear.
Claire for her part seemed to be totally fixated on her total, utter hatred of every man that she’d ever met.
“Is she okay?” Sayid hovered there and Jack spared him a look, noted that Sayid wasn’t even looking at him, them and was instead focused entirely on Charlie. Charlie who was, it seemed, valiantly focusing all his energy on pretending that Sayid didn’t exist in his reality.
“Is that water?”
Sayid nodded. “Hurley wasn’t sure how much you had in here.”
“Boone…” They had short hand speech down to a science it seemed as Boone jumped up, taking the pot from Sayid. Rewetting the cloth that Shannon had been using, pouring a small glass for Claire to sip from. Pouring some into a glass that Charlie all but ignored.
Claire’s body arched and she cried out again, it wouldn’t be long now he thought.
When he finally looked up again he noted that Boone had moved back to his side, Shannon was pressing her forehead to Claire’s temple and Sayid was now sitting next to Charlie. The two men seemed to be holding hands.
He wondered if now that they’d reconciled if he could send Charlie away with Sayid while he dealt with Claire and the baby that wanted to come but was being stubborn.
******************************************************************************
She’d had a boy. A healthy, squalling, squirming baby boy. Boone had helped Jack clean him up even as they’d guessed at his measurements to write down in Jack’s notebook.
Jack was exhausted and thought that barring any more emergencies he might sleep for a few days straight.
Claire had named the boy Adam, exchanging a shy smile with Shannon. Jack had noted it in his book.
The name, not the look.
Jack had left the two of them there, cooing over the boy. Charlie had long since fallen asleep and Jack wasn’t sure how he’d managed it with Claire’s screams.
He’d been right, she had a nice set of lungs on her. So did her baby.
Sayid slumbered next to Charlie and Jack wondered what exactly it was that they’d fought about that now seemed resolved.
Boone touched the side of his face and pulled him, unresisting to the shelter that he shared with Shannon, Claire and Hurley. Settled him on his pallet and laid down next to him. Drawing a blanket over them, lifting Jack’s head when he realized that there wasn’t a pillow there.
Jack sighed and his mind drifted away.
He felt an arm settle over his chest and a warm breath against his cheek before lips touched the same spot. He heard a familiar voice and smiled.
“You work to hard.”
******************************************************************************
The Doctor Is In – a Jack-centric story.
Pairings include: Jack/Boone, Charlie/Sayid, Sayid/Sawyer, Claire/Shannon
TITLE: The Doctor Is In – Jack/Boone
AUTHOR: Melanie
PAIRINGS: Jack/Boone, Charlie/Sayid, Sayid/Sawyer/ Claire/Shannon
RATING: PG-13 - For language.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing at all, least of all those contained within.
The Doctor Is In
Jack found the notebook (with only a few sheets missing) in one of the overhead compartments. Shuffling through carry-on bags looking for something, anything that could help him ease the Marshall’s suffering.
He wasn’t delusional enough at this point to think that rescue would come in time to save the man’s life.
Sixteen years, christ he didn’t think the Marshall was going to make it sixteen days, and at this point sixteen hours was pushing it.
He wrote the date at the top of the page, smoothed down the pad and proceeded to cover the first sheet of paper, front and back, with his observations on the Marshall’s condition.
Known wounds, how he’d treated them. Temperature and blood pressure he guessed at as he hadn’t yet found his own luggage with the tools of his trade. He made notes on blood loss (a lot) and his futile efforts to save the man.
He tuned out the sounds of the mans suffering and the tiny, little voice inside him that told him that he should do something instead of watching the man die slowly.
He was a doctor, not a murderer and he wouldn’t allow this place to make him anything he already wasn’t.
Marshall dead.
Jack wrote this on the bottom of the back of the first page. He paused and wrote the date next to it. It seemed a fitting end to the first page of his notes.
He didn’t elaborate. There was no need, he would never forget what had happened, what he’d been forced to do and since rescue was only a fleeting thought he didn’t think anyone would have a need to decipher his notes.
He glanced down at his hands and noted that they’d finally stopped shaking.
He could no longer say he wasn’t a murderer. He didn’t think he could call himself a doctor or a healer any longer.
The food that had crashed with them was almost entirely gone.
Locke had constructed some makeshift spears and he and Sawyer had speared some fish that would last a few days.
Jack watched it all happen with a detached air.
He felt separated from the group and knew that it couldn’t be good. Some would say he was wallowing, he avoided Sawyer and Kate unable to forget that it had been them that had forced him to change what he was.
He spent his days stocking his makeshift infirmary, Boone appearing in the mornings to help him. For all his ineptness with CPR the boy was willing to learn and that was saying something. And it would help if there was at least one other person that could play doctor when needed. He hadn’t forgotten that there was something that didn’t want them on the Island.
Something that was a lot meaner and a lot bigger then all of them.
Locke had tried, unsuccessfully, to hunt it.
On their fifteenth morning on the Island Boone appeared with a small notebook and helped him catalogue what medicine they’d been able to find. They had five different types of allergy medications, aspirin of varying strengths and acne medication.
As long as nobody suffered from anything besides the minor headache, an allergic reaction to sand or found the need to clean up their acne for one of the other 45 survivors they’d be okay.
He didn’t think they’d be that lucky.
He was going to have to make the trek back to the wreckage that was the front of the plane. He needed to get the first aid kit and he needed to search the overhead compartments for more medicine. What he’d found in the section that had crashed with them wasn’t going to last long.
And with whatever was sharing the Island with them still out there he was pretty sure that someone was going to need more help then that soon.
Boone brought him his first patient, Claire with Shannon tagging along behind them was probably only weeks away from delivering.
Jack had been desperately searching for something other than the 500 milligram Tylenol to use as a pain killer because while Claire swore that she wanted to deliver naturally Jack didn’t think that the rest of the survivors would think that was such a great idea.
And not just because she looked like she had a set of lungs on her.
He’d instructed her to lie on the makeshift pallet and tried to remember his two rotations in ob-gyn. It had been a while.
Boone watched with avid eyes, soaking up everything that he did, handing him whatever he asked for. Warm hand on his shoulder, leaning over him to watch as he touched Claire’s stomach. Asking him quiet questions; why are you doing that, are you going to do this, I saw this on TV would that work?
Jack tried to ignore the warm breath against the back of his neck and concentrate on his patient.
Shannon stood on Claire’s other side and held the other girls hand staring at him with eyes that dared him to order her to leave.
He wouldn’t have thought that the two women would be friends, in the real world they probably wouldn’t have been.
Jack had Boone cut out his stitches a week after he looked Claire over for the first time. They were regular threads from a sewing kit that he’d been lucky enough to find intact and he suddenly missed his clean, somewhat quiet hospital and his fully stocked suture kit that would have taken care of itself.
He swore that when rescue came he would never take them for granted again.
The sun was high in the sky, probably around noon and he wondered if he remembered how to construct a sun dial if he could convince someone else to make it for him.
It would be nice if they could tell time again, so far he hadn’t seen anyone alive with a watch and he’d ignored Sawyer’s suggestion of taking it off one of the dead bodies.
He’d scavenge through their belongings for their medications but he wouldn’t do the same to their persons. They were still people even if they were dead and he wasn’t a grave robber. He had to draw the line somewhere after all and that was the only line that Kate and Sawyer had left him.
Boone’s hands were steady and sure as he cut through the black thread that Kate had sewn into his back weeks earlier. He would have asked her to do it but Boone had somehow become his apprentice and the boy deserved the opportunity to learn everything that he could. If something happened to Jack they needed someone else that could dispense Theraflu and Tylenol.
“These are really neat,” Boone commented. Voice soft and quiet and Jack fought back a shiver at the accusatory tone. Who else do you trust; this is supposed to be my job. The boy sounded like he had a temper, Jack had always been drawn to men with tempers, he blamed his mother. “Who did them?”
“Kate,” Jack bit his lip, the knife was cool against his back where Boone was holding it still and Jack hoped that he wasn’t going to get territorial and cut the wound open again just so he could sew it back up.
Boone made a noise in the back of his throat and continued, Jack relaxed when he was silent.
“I didn’t know you were hurt during the crash,” Boone finally said. “You didn’t act hurt.”
“There was too much to do, other people were hurt worse than me.”
Boone’s hand was warm against his back, a slight pressure on his skin and Jack knew he was tugging the thread loose.
The boys’ movements were competent and Jack wondered if he’d ever thought of med school… or if he’d only ever wanted to be a lifeguard.
Charlie and Sayid were fighting Jack decided. It was the only explanation for why Sawyer was following Sayid into the shelter and Charlie was following after Claire, Shannon, Hurley and Boone.
Boone complained very loudly that Charlie snored, Charlie countered with the fact that Boone talked in his sleep casting a vaguely triumphant look at Jack when the boy flushed.
Jack just tried to ignore them all as much as possible. They were all stuck with one another, 45 vastly different people and unless the things sharing the Island with them attacked them on the beach (which he swore was only a matter of time) they had to learn to live with each other.
Walt had taken to hanging out in the Infirmary shelter with him in the afternoon. Lonely and desperate for companionship, there were no other kids his age among the survivors.
He couldn’t hang out with his father after all and Locke, who was his only other constant companion besides Vincent, was all to often off hunting to bring home something for them to eat at dinner.
Jack wondered when he’d started thinking of the beach and this Island as home.
Left, it seemed, with no other choices Walt would sit on the sand cross-legged and listen as Jack and Boone went over what they had left. Discussing plans to try and trek back to where the front of the plane was located again to see what they could find there, the boy wanted to go, and offered to let Vincent come with them.
Jack didn’t think his father would let him out his sight but he might allow the dog to accompany them on their trip.
Walt was a good kid, but he was the only kid and Jack didn’t think anyone would forgive him if something happened to him while they were together.
Michael always came by at what Jack had taken to calling one in the afternoon (he’d not yet convinced someone to build a sun dial) and led Walt and Vincent away. Walt talking a mile a minute about what he’d learned that day.
Jack hadn’t yet told Michael that he wasn’t a school or a daycare and he didn’t think he would.
He kind of liked the kid.
They made the trek alone, just the two of them, if you didn’t count the fact that Vincent was trotting along proudly in front of them as if leading the way.
Jack had put it off as long as he dared but Claire was nearing what she’d told him was her ‘official’ delivery date and they needed to find something to help her when she hit it.
He’d left her in Hurley’s capable if not a little bit shaky hands; he’d wanted Boone to stay with her but the boy refused to be left behind. So he’d pulled Hurley aside and told him exactly what to do if something happened. As long as she didn’t start bleeding Jack thought he’d be fine.
“What do you think it’s going to be?” Boone asked when they were about halfway to where he remembered the front half of the plane being.
“I don’t know,” Jack stated honestly. And it honestly wouldn’t matter, there wasn’t going to be any baby shower for Claire. No blue or pink blankets or baby clothes.
They’d be lucky if they could configure something for her to use as a crib when the time came.
“Shannon thinks it’s a boy, so does Claire for that matter,” Boone said thoughtfully.
Jack muttered something noncommittally. People were pairing off now. Together.
Charlie and Sayid had been together and then had a fight and were now not speaking. Sayid had compounded that split by starting something up with Sawyer that Jack’d had the misfortune of stumbling upon. He’d thought the men hated each other, and they probably still did. They still snarked and bitched at each other, it just seemed that they’d found another outlet for whatever it was that they didn’t like about each other.
Jack very carefully ignored the fact that Sayid watched Charlie with barely hid longing, that Charlie wouldn’t look at Sayid at all and Sawyer watched both of them with suspicion, as if he thought they were fucking around behind his back.
He didn’t have a problem with alternative lifestyles; he’d had one himself after all so he couldn’t really throw stones. He really hoped that they were being safe, he didn’t think he could help them if they weren’t.
He did wonder where they’d found the lube and the condoms, or if they were even bothering with the condoms since they were probably all going to die horrible deaths anyway.
From comments that Boone had made he thought Claire and Shannon might be working towards that as well, although he at least hoped they waited until after the baby was born at least to start something officially.
Vincent barked at them and Jack quickened his steps, Boone close enough behind him that he could almost, but not quite feel his body heat. He wanted to be back on the beach before night fall.
He could see the front of the plane. It looked the same as it had almost a month earlier when Kate, Charlie and he had found the pilot alive and then seen him dragged from the front of the plane and his blood splattered on the remaining windows.
He hoped that neither he nor Boone would have any need to go into the cockpit. Although the rain that they’d gotten since then should have washed away the remains of that horror.
It worried him that they hadn’t seen the pilots’ body during the hike there; he hadn’t wanted to see it but to have it totally missing from where it been hanging from the trees disturbed him.
“Christ,” Boone muttered behind him, Jack ignored the fact that he was close enough that he could feel the vibrations from Boone’s body as he spoke. Just one, tiny movement and they’d be full on body touching.
He bit back a sigh and took a step so they weren’t standing so close. He tried to remind his hormones that just because Boone was a pretty boy that spent more time with him than anybody else didn’t mean that he was at all interested in anything besides what Jack could teach him.
Jack took the right side of the plane, Boone took the left and Vincent sat at the back of the plane. Tongue lolling, panting quietly as he watched the trees.
Even with the dog Jack jumped at every little sound from outside the plane, Boone swearing led him to believe that the boy was doing the same thing.
Jack almost kept the dog with him, he really didn’t want to explain to Walt why his dog was dead if it came to it.
He’d already put the first aid kit from the front of the plane in his bag and started going through the rest of the overhead compartments. The ones that were intact anyway.
He put any blankets and pillows that he could find in one. Boone and he had made that decision on the way there. They’d each brought two makeshift bags. One for blankets and pillows to distribute, the other for any medications and toiletries that they could find.
He dumped whole toiletry kits into the bag. They’d go through them later, disperse the toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap and shampoo among the rest of the survivors.
“Eureka,” he could hear the wild grin in Boone’s voice.
“What’d you find?” he sighed and hefted the bags over his shoulder.
He hadn’t found much to help them. More aspirin and from one of the first class overhead compartments he’d found an almost full insulin kit. Nobody had come forward with a need for it yet but they could always find other uses for the needles.
“Penicillin, Amoxicillin…” Boone sounded thoroughly pleased with himself and as Jack came up behind him he turned a bright, blinding smile on him.
Pretty boy, Jack thought. Pretty straight boy, he reminded himself before he did something stupid and kissed him.
“Full?”
“Pretty close to,” Boone was still grinning at him and Jack found himself returning it before he even realized what he was doing. He patted his arm for lack of anything better to do.
“Good job.”
If anything the compliment made Boone’s smile brighter. The smile only dimming when they heard Vincent whine and a crash through the brush.
Two sets of wide eyes turned toward where Vincent was standing, growling at something in the underbrush.
Boone hurriedly dumped the rest of the kit he’d been sorting through in his bag; Jack adjusted his hold on his bags so he wouldn’t lose them when they started running.
Boone nodded and Jack started moving slowly toward Vincent.
Stopping when the dog whined again and then swearing under his breath, ignoring the fact that Boone was now laughing behind him.
“Walt what the hell are you doing here?!”
Oh Michael was going to be pissed.
Walt was grounded.
Jack would have lectured him the entire way back to their camp if he hadn’t been afraid of drawing an attack. Instead he’d followed Vincent, and kept Walt between him and Boone. He’d tied his bags together so if it became necessary he wouldn’t lose them but could still carry Walt.
They’d got to the beach a little bit before sunset, Michael falling to his knees and hugging Walt tightly before launching into a tirade that had everyone backing away not wanting to get involved.
The result of that tirade was Walt’s subsequent grounding.
Jack couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad for the boy, he’d put himself in danger.
Boone arrived with Charlie in tow the morning after Walt’s grounding.
He’d pushed him into a set of seats from the plane that Jack had commandeered to function as a sort of waiting room, and then stood over him, arms crossed as Charlie sat there silently.
Jack glanced from Boone back to Charlie trying to garner any type of hint as to why the two were there. No more information seemed forthcoming from Boone who appeared to be grinding his teeth so instead Jack focused on Charlie.
Pale and shaking although he tried to hide the latter by holding his hands together between his knees.
Jack shook his head, sighed softly then kneeled before him. “What were you taking?” he asked quietly. He ignored the surprise on Boone’s face and the way that Charlie’s seemed to crumple in on itself.
Listened as the boy explained, or tried to explain he didn’t make much sense. Words falling from his lips, nonsense syllables. Jack finally coaxed him from the chair and settled him on a pallet. He couldn’t give him anything, didn’t dare to. Charlie would have to suffer through the worst of it on his own.
He turned to Boone, mouth opening to ask how he’d found out when he was cut off by a shout from Shannon.
They both turned to see Shannon and Hurley half carrying, half dragging Claire in their direction.
“She’s in pain, help her,” Shannon screamed at him and Jack pushed himself into action.
Sayid appeared in the Infirmary, a coffee pot salvaged from the plane in one hand.
Charlie was laying on his side, watching as Jack and Boone tended to Claire. Hurley had left at the first sight of blood and Shannon after a brief hour where Jack thought she was going to pass out had finally pulled herself together and was now holding Claire’s hand, brushing a wet cloth over her brow and crooning coaxing, pleading words into her ear.
Claire for her part seemed to be totally fixated on her total, utter hatred of every man that she’d ever met.
“Is she okay?” Sayid hovered there and Jack spared him a look, noted that Sayid wasn’t even looking at him, them and was instead focused entirely on Charlie. Charlie who was, it seemed, valiantly focusing all his energy on pretending that Sayid didn’t exist in his reality.
“Is that water?”
Sayid nodded. “Hurley wasn’t sure how much you had in here.”
“Boone…” They had short hand speech down to a science it seemed as Boone jumped up, taking the pot from Sayid. Rewetting the cloth that Shannon had been using, pouring a small glass for Claire to sip from. Pouring some into a glass that Charlie all but ignored.
Claire’s body arched and she cried out again, it wouldn’t be long now he thought.
When he finally looked up again he noted that Boone had moved back to his side, Shannon was pressing her forehead to Claire’s temple and Sayid was now sitting next to Charlie. The two men seemed to be holding hands.
He wondered if now that they’d reconciled if he could send Charlie away with Sayid while he dealt with Claire and the baby that wanted to come but was being stubborn.
She’d had a boy. A healthy, squalling, squirming baby boy. Boone had helped Jack clean him up even as they’d guessed at his measurements to write down in Jack’s notebook.
Jack was exhausted and thought that barring any more emergencies he might sleep for a few days straight.
Claire had named the boy Adam, exchanging a shy smile with Shannon. Jack had noted it in his book.
The name, not the look.
Jack had left the two of them there, cooing over the boy. Charlie had long since fallen asleep and Jack wasn’t sure how he’d managed it with Claire’s screams.
He’d been right, she had a nice set of lungs on her. So did her baby.
Sayid slumbered next to Charlie and Jack wondered what exactly it was that they’d fought about that now seemed resolved.
Boone touched the side of his face and pulled him, unresisting to the shelter that he shared with Shannon, Claire and Hurley. Settled him on his pallet and laid down next to him. Drawing a blanket over them, lifting Jack’s head when he realized that there wasn’t a pillow there.
Jack sighed and his mind drifted away.
He felt an arm settle over his chest and a warm breath against his cheek before lips touched the same spot. He heard a familiar voice and smiled.
“You work to hard.”