LEFT BEHIND

A/N: Hey guys. So originally this chapter was supposed to be Jack visiting Kate in jail. But that's way too predictable, so I reworked it some to add in that special Shiggity quality angst. I also like to call this chapter, 'The Chapter of Interruptions'. Because most of it was dramatic dialogue during the first draft, which segues into plenty of verbal interruptions.
Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed/read/alerted/favorited the story. Welcome to the cool club.
The only sad thing (for me, not for you) is I'm pretty sure I'll never stop writing this story because I have it planned out way to far in the future.

Left Behind

Chapter 31

Restrained
(The Chapter of Interruptions)

When they informed her of a visitor, she assumes it's the Lawyer. The Lawyer who's attachment to her is second only to the fetus growing inside of her. The Lawyer, Ilana something, is intent on winning this case probably because of all the publicity surrounding it. It's not every day that a pregnant woman is shuttled from an abandoned island directly to jail. From one form of solitary confinement to another.

Of course she only knows this by gossip, by mouthy guards who try to egg her on because they only know the illegal half of what she did, not the violent reason that fueled her to take the action. They say things about the baby, about the different horrifying things that should happen to her and it until the Lawyer forced the judge to rule that she be placed in solitary quarters with only prescreened guards. It seems like a win, the Lawyer told her to count it as a win, but she's still in jail.

Part of her, the shred of hope that she's protected like a flickering flame in a thunderstorm prays that Jack's finally come. That he'll be standing in the bricked in room, in a suit and tie with his hands shoved in his pockets and a nervous smile gracing his lips. But every time she asks the Lawyer about Jack, she shakes her head and continues rambling on about how the best defense is a good offense and how they need to get everything bad out front.

She calls the Lawyer by a title and not a name, because the woman hasn't really done her any favors. The Lawyer's careful about never divulging too much information about the trial, never saying who the main witness is. Figuratively and literally she's stuck in a six by eight cell.

The handcuffs clink as she walks with a guard down a long stretch of hallway, they've yet to shackle her feet, probably because her stomach is so big now that even if she wanted to run, even if she wanted to use her feet to kick her way out of the jail, she couldn't. She's nearing seven months and she's terrified that the first thing the baby is going to see is an orange jumpsuit and some loopy prison doctor.

The guard yanks at the lead covered door that leads to the single visitation room. It's where she always meets the Lawyer. The walls are solid brick, painted over in a puce color, but there's a camera posted in every corner and visits are limited.

The stiff humid air hits her as she ambles to the doorway. Behind the guard voices with no indication of care or emotion, "You got twenty minutes."

She smells his cigarettes before she even sees him and by the time she's registered who's waiting for her, the door slams shut and she's locked in another cell.

He sits with his hands clasped together over the steel table. When he sees her discomfort he gains a superior grin and leans back slightly to enjoy the view, "You smuggling a concealed weapon under there Freckles?"

"Why are you here Sawyer?" She doesn't understand why, but at that moment, she's never been more mortified in her entire life. She never given a second thought to her stirred emotions about Jack visiting her in jail, but the fact that Sawyer is here, examining her as she walks around in prison garbs makes her want to throw up.

"I was in the neighborhood," he leans back more securing his hands behind his head, then crossing his legs and placing his feet on the corner of the table, "Thought I'd drop in."

"Sawyer," she sighs, trying to rub her eyes clear of the bright light in the iridescent room.

With one final flick to the corners of his smile, he drops the act and his feet drop from the table, "You know Freckles, you might actually want to hear me out."

Torn between clawing at the door until a guard comes or her fingernails bleed, or attempting to have a civil conversation with Sawyer, she glances at him and then back at the door. A few ringlets fall loose from her ponytail and tickle the back of her neck.

"Jesus, just sit down Kate," he shoots a long arm out to show her exactly where the chair is; "you don't have to talk, just sit. That belly of yours looks like hell to carry."

Knowing full well that the best Sawyer is going to do is make wise cracks about Jack's abandonment of her, she can't justify why she slides the metal chair across the concrete and holds her stomach as the hard angles of the seat dig into her body. She arches her back to get comfortable, but finds that space between her stomach and the table is scarce.

After she stops fidgeting, Sawyer doesn't say a word. So she edges him on with an irksome arch of her eyebrows.

"How you doing, Freckles?"

"Sawyer, I swear to God—"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Well let's see, I'm in jail and almost seven months pregnant. I still have morning sickness almost every day, I haven't been sleeping because every night I have nightmares, my feet are swollen, my back is aching, the baby is pressing up into my ribs so it hurts to breathe and the father hasn't visited me once in two weeks," she huffs and crosses her arms over the top of her stomach, "That's how I'm doing."

"The good Doc can't visit you," Sawyer regains his smug disposition as he leans in, the hot gossip dripping from his mouth like his drawl, "That hotshot lawyer of yours thinks the judge will go easier on you if you're a single mama."

Tucking her stomach underneath the lip of the table, she leans in as far as she can, "So she just put a veto on his visits?"

"Pretty much, yeah," They're only a few inches apart, trading stories across a prison table like they're in a high school cafeteria, "She's got buddies embedded in the system."

"Great."

"But that's why I'm here," he leans back but the stench of cigarettes still lingers and the air around her face feels is moist as it touches her cheeks.

"Because you're one of these buddies?"

"No, I'm here as a proxy for the Doc," reaching down, Sawyer pulls a book out of a bag and lets it crash to the center of the table, "apparently he thinks you need to bone up before the final."

Turning the cover around the title reads What to Expect When You're Expecting. She laughs once before stifling it in her throat, because it's such a Jack gift. Because Sawyer really is just a surrogate, "Aren't people going to assume since you're the only man who's visited me, that you're the father?"

"Snuck in through the back with the help of Super Lawyer while Hurley hammed up your sob story for the cameras," reclining further, he feels into his jeans until he retrieves a pack of cigarettes. His bloodshot eyes catch hers and he must sense her primal indignation, because quickly the pack disappears, "I was just checking to see if I still had them."

A dull bang is heard on the other side of the door as the guard rams his fist into it, "You've got five minutes."

"I'd better go," her body wavers as she tries to remember how to stand and regain balance but she manages to pull it off without needing Sawyer's help. Her hand touches the smooth cover of the book and she shares a sincere smile with Sawyer, "Thanks for this."

He doesn't react, because he panics at times of sentimentality, so she nods for him and turns to the door. Without taking a step, his long fingers slide around her wrist with the cuffs and restrain her for a moment. Instead of his usual conceited expression, his eyebrows slant and his eyes are distant and full of hurt. "Don't say the father never visited you."

"Sawyer," the huff of his name comes out as a nasal whine, because she's tired of dealing with this drama.

"I did a pretty damn nice thing coming here today," his fingers don't grow in strength around her wrist, but their unwavering as she tests wrenching away, "You could at least hear me out."

With one swift movement, she regains her arm away from him and sets her jaw, "Fine."

"I know that Juliet did something to you and Jack."

Her eyes focus on the mediocre clock behind him that seems to be ticking backwards, "So?"

"So you really think it resulted in a Goddamn baby?"

Scoffing at his disbelief she blurts out, "There was a smoke monster and polar bears," there's actually a compiled list of things she's not supposed to mention, "It's not that—"

He bows his head, with his focus on fingers that he just can't seem to keep still, "Do you think there's even a chance I'm the daddy?"

"Sawyer—"

"What Juliet did, did it happen around the same time we were locked up?"

Her chest seizes, like the baby's feet are kicking the bottom of her ribs. "Less than a week."

When he shoves the heavy table in one swift movement the severity returns making his voice sound guttural, "And you don't think—"

"Of course I think, Sawyer," she drowns him out with a glare and silences him by placing a hand on her stomach, trying to coax the baby down, "I think about all the time. What would happen. What it would mean to me. What it would mean to Jack."

Throwing up his arms, he stands from his chair and she remembers just how tall he is, "What about me?"

"You left Sawyer." She speaks the words without a fraction of remorse.

"You said you were sure you weren't pregnant."

"You knew there was a possibility and you still left."

"Yeah," running a hand through his sandy hair, he pulls the corner of the table back to meet the deep grooves in the floor, "well I ain't leaving now."

"What do you mean?"

"We need to figure out who the hell the daddy is."

Next Chapter - Jack is back and he finally has a point-of-view again! Plus a flashback based around one of our favorite deceased characters (not Claire). Care to wager who it is?

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