Summary: Control. It was what they wanted. They wanted him to hand it over to them, to give them what they wanted without asking why, without question, without a fight.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost. I wish, but alas...
Author's Note: I'm...not sure about this, but I'm sick of looking at it. :/
The day that he met Juliet, he was amazed that she reminded him of Kate. They weren’t anything alike, really. But the day that he met her, the day that she tried to bend him to her will with very little other than her face and her voice and her words, he couldn’t help but draw parallels.
She reminded him of all of those weeks ago when he had stood over the Marshall’s grave with a shovel in his hand and watched her lie, when he had threatened Sawyer’s health for her, when he had demanded she tell him why she was doing all of this, what that plane had mattered to her. He remembered watching her cry, and still unable to let his anger go.
Control. It was what they wanted. They wanted him to hand it over to them, to give them what they wanted without asking why, without question, without a fight. It made him feel cornered, vulnerable. He had submitted to much control to others before. His life was the result of his father’s merciless influence.
So he fought back with Juliet in a way that he could never have done with Kate. He released the anger on her that had been building inside him for what felt like his entire life. The lack of control was easier to take from the people that he cared for, but not from her. She wasn’t his family, or his friend. She was his enemy. She when he pressed the broken plate to her neck and saw the fear, the panic in her eyes, for the first time, he felt absolutely nothing.