Chapter 16: Aftermath and Questions
POV: Jack
Jack Shephard had spent weeks watching Mac Kerby, cataloging impossible skills and convenient knowledge that defied every rational explanation he could construct. But after witnessing the Ethan fight, Jack could no longer rationalize away what he'd seen.
Mac had built functional combat traps in the middle of a life-or-death battle, constructed complex mechanical devices from debris in seconds, and somehow survived injuries that should have required immediate surgical intervention. The man had displayed abilities that transcended normal human limitations, and Jack's scientific mind demanded explanations that Mac kept refusing to provide.
It was time for answers.
Jack cornered Mac in the medical area with Sayid for backup, knowing the Iraqi's interrogation skills would detect lies that medical training might miss. Mac looked exhausted, haunted by whatever internal struggle was consuming him, but Jack's patience for deflection had finally run out.
"No more evasions," Jack said, his voice carrying the authority he'd learned from fifteen years of demanding truth from patients who wanted to hide their symptoms. "What are you?"
Mac looked up from the cot where he'd been recovering, his eyes holding depths of weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion.
"I'm just trying to help," Mac said weakly.
Jack slammed his hand down on the medical supply table, sending instruments scattering with metallic crashes that punctuated his frustration.
"You built combat traps mid-fight! You disappeared and reappeared like some kind of magician! You heal at impossible rates! WHAT are you?"
Sayid added quietly, his interrogator instincts reading Mac's body language for signs of deception: "We need to know if you represent a threat to the group's safety."
POV: Mac
Mac's laugh was broken and bitter. "A threat? I nearly died protecting Claire! I've done nothing but try to keep people alive since we crashed!"
His mind raced through possible explanations, none of which wouldn't sound completely insane to rational men like Jack and Sayid. How could he explain transmigration and inherited abilities without destroying every relationship he'd built?
"I don't know," Mac said finally, offering the closest thing to truth he could manage. "Since the crash, I can do things I couldn't do before. Build, heal, move in ways that shouldn't be possible. Maybe the island changed me. Changed all of us."
It was close enough to truth to bypass Sayid's interrogator instincts—Mac genuinely didn't understand the full scope of what had happened to him, and his confusion about his abilities was completely authentic.
POV: Locke
John Locke listened from outside the medical tent, his smile growing wider as he processed the conversation within. Mac was special, just like him. The Island had given Locke his legs back, healed decades of paralysis with miraculous restoration. It had given Mac these gifts of construction and healing and impossible perception.
They were chosen. Selected by forces greater than themselves for purposes that would become clear in time.
After Jack and Sayid left in obvious frustration, Locke entered the tent with the serene confidence of someone who'd found absolute truth in an uncertain world.
"They don't understand," Locke said gently. "The Island reveals us to ourselves. You were always capable of these things—you just needed awakening."
Mac's skin crawled at the religious certainty in Locke's voice. "John, I'm not chosen for anything. I'm just trying to survive like everyone else."
"Denying your purpose," Locke replied with suffocating certainty. "The Island doesn't make mistakes, Mac. Everything that happens here serves the greater plan."
POV: Mac
Mac realized with growing horror that Locke's belief in Mac's "destiny" might be more dangerous than Jack's scientific suspicion. Jack wanted answers that could be proven or disproven. Locke wanted faith that could justify any action in service of his perceived greater purpose.
"I just want to help people," Mac said desperately.
"And you will," Locke replied. "When you accept what the Island is trying to make you."
Word of Mac's abilities spread through camp like wildfire, creating divisions that cut deeper than the earlier split between beach and cave dwellers. Some survivors saw him as a protector—he'd saved Claire, captured their enemy, risked his life for their safety. Others whispered that he was unnatural, dangerous, possibly in league with whatever forces Ethan represented.
Sawyer approached Mac at the evening fire, his usual swagger tempered by calculation and genuine concern.
"People are picking sides, Magic Man," Sawyer said quietly. "Team 'Mac's Our Savior' versus Team 'Mac's Suspicious As Hell.' Where I land depends on what you tell me right now."
Mac met his eyes without flinching. "I'm not your enemy, Sawyer. But I can't explain things I don't understand myself."
Sawyer studied him for a long moment, his con man instincts weighing truth against performance.
"Fair enough," Sawyer said finally, with something approaching respect. "But you keep pulling miracles out of thin air, people gonna stop accepting mystery as an answer."
After Sawyer left, Hurley settled beside Mac with his characteristic lack of drama.
"Dude, for what it's worth, I think you're cool," Hurley said around a bite of fruit. "Weird, but good-weird. Like having a superhero on the team."
The simple acceptance was a balm against the growing suspicion and demands for explanations Mac couldn't provide.
"Thanks, Hurley."
"Just maybe dial back the impossible stuff for a while?" Hurley suggested with gentle wisdom. "Give people time to process before you blow their minds again."
That night, Kate found Mac sitting alone on the beach, staring out at dark water that reflected no stars. She didn't ask questions or demand explanations, just sat beside him in solidarity that felt like the only real comfort he'd found since arriving.
"They'll come around," Kate said quietly.
Mac shook his head. "Or they'll turn on me. Either way, the attention is what I was trying to avoid."
Kate took his hand, her grip warm and solid in the cool night air. "Too late for that. So what now?"
Mac stared at the endless ocean, feeling the weight of secrets that grew heavier every day.
"Now I keep building. Keep healing. Keep protecting," he said. "Until they trust me or exile me. Until I figure out why I'm really here."
The whispers in the jungle seemed to echo his uncertainty, asking questions he couldn't answer about purposes he didn't understand. Mac was becoming something more than human, but he had no idea whether that transformation would save them all or destroy everything he was trying to protect.
The only certainty was that there was no going back to the simple days when his biggest concern was hiding his abilities from casual observation. The secret was out, partially at least, and now he had to find a way to live with the consequences of being exactly what he'd never wanted to be:
The center of attention in a story that was supposed to belong to someone else.
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