hope, faith, and deserted islands
It’s the lovely @kane-and-griffin‘s birthday so in honor of this glorious day, have a Kabby LOST AU where they are somehow both Jack Shephard.
That was the first thing Abby heard when she opened her eyes— screams and the sputtering of an engine.
Clarke. Her heart jumped and then she remembered the empty seat next to her on the plane; the hurled recriminations as she walked out of Clarke’s small beachside bungalow outside of Sydney. Clarke was safe, for now.
Abby sat up and gingerly tested her limbs. Everything seemed to work properly and aside from a few scrapes and a long gash across her calf, she was in good condition.
The screams continued and Abby jumped up. Chunks of fuselage littered the beach and other survivors were sprinting around fires and explosions, calling for help, for each other, for their mothers.
She snapped into action.
For two days— 46 hours, to be exact— they made do. Rescue was coming and all they had to do was hold on. And then the lawyer walked out of the jungle and informed them he had found the pilot, who lived just long enough to tell them they were a thousand miles off course before promptly dying. “Help isn’t coming,” Marcus told the panicked survivors in what he clearly thought was an authoritative but comforting tone.
Abby cut her eyes at him and added another log to the signal fire. He might have given up hope, but Abby knew her daughter wouldn’t give up that easily.
Griffin women never did.
Four days after that Marcus discovered caves with a fresh water spring a mile off the beach and announced they were moving, and Abby had her first face-to-face argument with the self-appointed leader of the survivors. They had worked together warily for the first week, with Abby treating people as best she could out of her lean-to on the beach and Marcus taking charge of rationing, but here they found their breaking point.
“No,” she said flatly when he came to inform her it was time to move.
“There’s no water out here— it’s illogical to stay this far from our source and we can’t keep counting on rain water. You’re a doctor, you know that.”
“We move inland and we could miss a rescue boat,” she replied. She turned to her makeshift shelf and counted the remaining bottles for something to do. His gaze made her uncomfortable; it was too direct, too open and vulnerable despite all his attempts at burying his fears under a layer of authority. Abby had a soft spot in her heart for lost lambs but she couldn’t afford room for Marcus just now, especially not when he wanted her to give up on her daughter. “I’m not going.”
“If you stay, so will others,” Marcus countered. “You’re putting lives at risk.”
Abby frowned and started reorganizing her dwindling supply of bandages. If he were here Jake would gently tease her about needing to keep her hands busy, but he wasn’t. He was gone and all she could think about was not leaving her daughter alone, even if Clarke hated her right now. “I’m not making anyone do anything. That’s your department, not mine.”
“People trust you. If you—”
“If people trust me, that’s up to them,” she interrupted. “You might have given up hope, but I haven’t. And if they haven’t either, I’m not going to make them. I’m staying.”
Something like doubt flashed in his eyes but then his face hardened. “So be it,” he bit out, and turned on his heel.
They lost four people to the cave in.
Four of forty remaining survivors, dead in one day. Abby had run straight for the caves the moment she heard, Jake’s wedding ring bouncing against her sternum in a rapid tattoo that echoed her pounding heart. Marcus, she thought first, before reminding herself she was concerned about everyone, not just him. But she breathed a sigh of relief anyway when she skidded into the cave and saw him covered with dust, heaving rocks away from a pile. He’d stripped off his shirt and was already soaked in sweat, but Abby had bigger concerns at the moment, so she tore her eyes away and went to see to Diana’s clearly dislocated shoulder.
She found him that night, sitting just outside the signal fire’s light and staring blankly at the bay. There were empty mini-bottles on the sand next to him— not enough to get him drunk, but enough for her to know he’d tried. “You were right,” he said miserably as she approached. “The caves were a terrible idea.”
Abby sat down and dug her feet into the cool sand. Above them the stars were closer than they’d ever been but that only served to heighten how unreal the past few weeks had been. Abby’s life was air conditioned fluorescent hospital hallways and antiseptic, not dark tropical heat and rationed hydrogen peroxide. But the perfume of the jungle had its own kind of magic and despite all her worries and fears, she wasn’t unhappy on the island. She had been so alone before, ever since Jake died and Clarke walked out in a storm of anger. Her life had slowly narrowed until it was just the hospital, and it was only now she was noticing it. Only now, when she had someone to sit next to and watch the waves roll in.
“You did what you thought was right,” she said carefully. She absently reached for Jake’s wedding ring and slipped her index finger into it, feeling the metal’s worn curves. It was comforting, but not in the way it used to be. “Hauling water for everyone every day would be impractical.”
“People died, Abby. People died because of me.”
Abby had experience with that feeling. It came with being a surgeon and it came with deciding to take your husband off a ventilator because there wasn’t any hope of recovery, no matter how much it broke your heart. No matter if it cost you your daughter. “You did what you thought was right,” she said again. “Sometimes, that’s all you can do. And this island— this isn’t forever, Marcus.”
It was the first time she had used his name since the castaways split between the beach and cave, and his chin lifted. “You still think someone’s coming for us?”
Abby thought about Clarke and all that had passed between them in the last two years. She thought about the pain and anger in her daughter’s eyes when she last saw her and swallowed against the lump in her throat. You can’t be that angry with someone you don’t love, Jake’s voice reminded her.
“I do,” she said fiercely. “I know she is.”