Jack took Kate to a small, but comfortable den in a remote corner of the Arctic, far from any kind of island or civilization. He laid her down gently in a small nest made of moss and little bits of feathers and fur. She looked small and fragile as she lay on her side, Jack noticed, he wondered how much more this war was hurting her then she let show. Of course he knew that if he ever brought it up with her, she'd probably claw his tongue out for mentioning it. He chuckled slightly, picturing it in his head.
Deeply unconcious, Kate was dreaming, images of her former life flashing before her eyes like an old fashioned movie. Startled, Kate wondered if she had died. Only vaguely could she remember a face bending over her as she lay on the stone floor, her life slowly draining out as the venom creeped inside. Yet, despite the situation, she remembered the face as he bent over her. She could trace the familiar lines on his face in her mind, creased with worry and regret. And in that instant, right then, she had forgiven him for everything that she held against him.