Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Clementine Roberts opened her eyes to the sun and the tops of trees blowing lightly in the wind.  The light above almost blinded her.  She felt sand on her back and her hands and immediately remembered the action from only moments before.

She sat up with a gasp, as if waking up from a nightmare.  She rubbed her eyes and stood up quickly.  Some part of her hoped she'd rub her eyes, then the pilot would announce that they were landing and she'd realize it was just a dream.  But when she opened her eyes, she was still surrounded by trees on all sides, she still heard screams from a little way's away, and still smelled smoke coming from afar, too.  She could see a flash of orange between the trees.  So she decided to give up on that fantasy.

Shaking out of the shock, Clem checked herself for any major injuries.  There was nothing but a bleeding gash down her left arm—she looked up and assumed she had skimmed the tree beside her when she fell from the plane.  Then she stopped thinking and ran to go help anyone else who needed it, up and out of the sand and dirt.

Everyone seemed to be running from something, either limping or perhaps being dragged. Brought away from the plane. Some people stood or sat in shock and watched as parts of the plane burned around them. The engine still spun. No one looked like they needed urgent help that didn't already have it. Clementine helped a couple of the people limping cross over to the other side. Suddenly, a blonde woman standing in the middle of it all and screaming in agony caught Clem's eye. No one seemed to pay any attention to her.

"Hey, hey," said Clem, running up to her. She had platinum blonde hair and was wearing a pink leather jacket and a skirt.  She looked young— probably twenty-something. Her voice was raspy and she was out of breath because of the panic, but Clementine hoped to be at least a little comforting. "You okay? Are you hurt?"

The woman stopped screaming, but continued crying hysterically. "No," she sobbed, barely audible. She shook her head. "No, not really."

"It's going to be okay," she said. "We're gonna, um, they're going to see the wreckage and they're going to come rescue us. And in the meantime, we can help each other. What's your name?"

"Shannon," she replied. Her voice shook. "I'm, um, Shannon Rutherford."

"Was anyone on the plane with you, Shannon?"

"My brother," she said. "But he's... he's okay, he's helping everyone else." She pointed in a general direction, but Clementine wasn't sure what her brother looked like, so she only quickly glanced that way.

"Well, Shannon, you stay with me, alright? Come on, let's get ourselves out of... well, this area, anyway."

Clementine put her arm around Shannon, hoping to be comforting, and they walked over to the other side of the beach, where there was minimal wreckage. The plane was still visible from that far, but it was far enough away that you heard less commotion.

"I never asked your name," she said quietly.

"Hmm?" said Clem, having not had heard.

"Your name," said Shannon. She wiped away a tear and sniffed. "What's your name?"

"Oh," she said. "My name's Charlotte." She continued, thinking maybe a little more conversation might be comforting.  It took her mind away from the situation a little. "But my dad always used to call me Clementine. So that's what everyone calls me."

"Well, thanks, Clementine."

"You're welcome," said Clem. "Anytime."

— ◒ —

Daytime included building a large signal fire to help the coast guard or anyone looking to help find their way to them. This labor turned into night, and Charlotte was beginning to get discouraged that their rescue would be anytime today.  There were 47 survivors out of 324 on the manifest– a sad statistic.

"Shouldn't they have come by now?" she said, in a quiet whisper. She sat next to Shannon beside her towel as the girl painted her toenails with light purple polish.

"They will," said Shannon. She picked up her head from looking down and satisfactorily placed the cap on her bottle of polish. She blew on the wet color once, then looked at Clementine. She held a stoic, thoughtful gleam as she stared at the flickering flames of the signal fire. "Want me to do yours?" she offered, holding up the bottle.

Clem looked at her for a second. "I'm fine," she said.

"They're going to come, Charlotte," Shannon assured her new friend. "There was a black box on the plane. They know exactly where we are. They're going to find us."

"It's taking a while," said Clementine.

Realizing how cold it was in the night after a single cool breeze, she crossed her arms over her chest and shivered once.

"I'm going to go sit by the fire," she said to Shannon, getting up and brushing the sand off of herself. "Want to come?"

"I'll stay here," said Shannon. "I'm not going to sit on a tree."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, and walked over to sit on one of the large tree trunks that had been placed around the fire. The warmth spread throughout her, and the light made her feel a little more hopeful about it all. She sat there for a little while, just staring at it.

It reminded her of camping.

She missed camping.  She'd go out with her sister, her mom, and her dad.  Her dad was a fireman—Clem and her sister loved riding the firetruck and being shown all the odds and ends of the controls.  When they did go camping, their dad would teach them all sorts of things.  Tracking, cooking, identifying, even hunting.  But that was before.  When her family was happy.

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the trees.  It seemed perfectly normal—just the wind, perhaps—until a low, grumbling- no, growling- sound was heard.  There was clicking and more low roaring.  Everyone on the beach's heads turned toward the noise.  In the distance, palm trees rustled, and Clementine saw as a whole grove of trees far away were knocked over and not seen again.  Her lips parted, and she shivered a little bit again.  Though not from the cold this time. 

The roaring continued and the ground rumbled a little— she could feel it in her feet. People began to get up and look, so Clementine followed them, trying to squint at the dark distance to see what creature could be making that big a disturbance.  People watched the trees rustle and fall—some afraid, some curious, some both. No one could see what was going on and the bending of the foliage that they could see seemed to be going all over the place, but thankfully, not coming towards them.  Finally it stopped, with one last roar into the night.

"Terrific," someone commented.

Clementine didn't sleep that night.

— ◒ —

"Whatever it was, it wasn't natural," commented a man called Michael, on of the other people on the plane.  Clementine, Michael, a man named Sayid, a Charlie, Shannon, Shannon's brother Boone, and Michael's son Walt all sat in a circle-like gathering basically surrounded by debris from the plane.  It was morning.  Clementine was tired.  She needed makeup, to hide the dark circles under her eyes, some aspirin, for the headache, and a cigarette for everything else.

Sayid Jarrah was from some place in the Middle East (that was what Clementine figured, at least).  He had an accent, and shoulder-length, curly, black hair.  His skin was a dark tan and his eyes were dark brown, almost black.  He sounded smart— he was smart.  He knew things about technology and planes and all that sort of stuff. 

Michael Dawson was a black man with short, curly hair.  He seemed like a very nice person, though Clementine hadn't gotten to talking to him much.  His son, Walt, was a smart boy for the age of ten, and looked a lot like his father, though his face was more oval-shaped.  His hair was in a short buzz cut and his eyes were always wide and interested in the conversation, listening quietly.  It seemed that all he wanted was to be included in the adults' conversations.  He was the only kid among the survivors.

Charlie Pace was from Manchester.  He had been in a band there— he looked like he was in a band.  He had dirty blonde hair, but the tips were brighter than the roots, and he had a messy stubble. He wore a black and gray striped shirt and dark jeans, as well. He had dark blue eyes and wore white tape around his fingers on one hand that read FATE, one letter on each finger, and a ring that had the letters DS on the other hand. Clem didn't get to overhear what his band was called, but the thought the letters might have had something to do with that.

Boone Carlyle was Shannon's stepbrother— Shannon's dad had married Boone's mom.  He had piercing blue eyes and straight, dark brown hair.  His eyebrows were upturned and his jawline was sharp. He always looked curious about something, or maybe angry— but again, maybe that was just his face.  Though he was, seemingly, always annoyed with Shannon.

Small talk had kept everyone's mind off things, but eventually, conversations here always turned bleak. It was nice to learn things about people, though.  Clem liked the small talk better than the talk about whatever was in the jungle.

"Does anyone have any sunblock?" asked Charlie, looking up for a moment at the cloudless sky.

"Yeah, I do," offered Shannon, handing it over to him.

"Ah," said Charlie.  He nodded in thanks.

A large man with long, curly brown hair began walking over to their small circle.  He looked a little frazzled.  "So, I was just looking inside the fuselage," he began. He had a friendly voice.  "It's pretty grim in there.  Do you think we should do something about the, uh..." He glanced at Walt, then opted for a more ten-year-old-friendly choice of words. "...B-O-D-Y-S?" he spelled.

Charlie looked at Charlotte, who held the same confused look as he did.

"What are you spelling, man, bodies?" said Michael.

"B-O-D-I-E-S," corrected Walt.

"That sounds like a good idea," said Sayid.

"No, they'll deal with it when they get here," protested Shannon. 

Another man with two scratches on his cheek and a white t-shirt came over.  He had buzzed, dark hair and a short stubble, and was muscular. Clementine was pretty sure his name was Jack, and that he was a doctor. That's what other people were saying, anyway. 

"I'm gonna go out and look for the cockpit," he said, kneeling down between Charlie and Clementine.  "See if we can find a transceiver to send a distress signal, help the rescue team." He turned to Shannon's brother. "You're gonna need to keep an eye on the wounded." He then proceeded to tell Boone about what to do for specific people, and made sure he understood. 

Anyone who'd been wounded badly had died, whether it was during the chaos yesterday or the moment they hit the ground. There was one exception, however— a man who was just barely alive, a large piece of shrapnel from the plane embedded in his chest. Jack was keeping him alive on one end of the beach near the jungle, but the man was still unconscious, and had been for at least 10 hours now.

"I'll come with, I want to help," said Charlie, standing up once they were done. With luck, they'd find the transceiver and would be able to send a signal the moment they got back to the beach.

"No, I don't need anymore help," said Jack, standing up as well.

"No, it's cool, I don't really feel like standing still, so..."

Jack nodded, and Charlie followed him across the beach.

— ◒ —

About an hour later, the sky got dark almost immediately, and rain started pouring down in sheets. It caused people to run around in panic, trying to find a roof to hide away from the storm. Charlotte saw shelter under one of the wings of the plane, along with a pregnant young woman, and a couple others.

The pregnant girl smiled and waved her over. Clementine, ducking as if it would shield her from the rain, ran toward her signal. She finally got over and stood up straight, finally in a dry place.

"Thank you—" she cut herself off, realizing she didn't know the girl's name.

"Claire," she completed, a smile on her face.

Claire was a platinum blonde with an Australian accent.  She wore a tight black dress and a red pendant necklace that looked like some sort of symbol.  She had blue eyes and a kind, young face.  She looked like a sweet girl. Clem hadn't gotten a chance to speak to her yet, but Shannon had told her earlier that she was really nice.

"Thank you, Claire," she said. "I'm Charlotte. Or Clementine.  Whichever you choose."

"Nice to meet you, Charlotte." She smiled "Or Clementine. What is it, a nickname?"

Clem nodded. "It's what my dad used to call me."

"That's nice," said Claire.

Clem smiled, then decided to continue the small talk  "How far along are you?" She glanced down at Claire's stomach.

Claire looked down, placing a hand on her belly.  "Eight months," she said, smiling a little.

"Was the... um... father on the plane?"

"Oh," said Claire, looking up at Clementine.  "No, no." She shook her head.  "He's, um, not in the picture."

"Oh," said Clem.  "Sorry."

"That's okay," said Claire.

They watched the rain silently for a minute or two, and took some other people under the wing, keeping them dry. Then from a distance Clementine heard the crunching of trees being broken and falling over. She immediately turned to face the outside, looking toward the jungle. She heard the same low growl they heard last night.

"There it is again," said Claire, a look of fear on her face.

"Oh, God," whispered another woman.

Clementine really wanted a cigarette.

Chapter Text

After the rainstorm, Clementine went to help some of the others sort out clothes and food, seeing what they had.  She sorted into sizes and for what weather, practical and impractical.  Surely no one on this island would have the need for a cocktail dress anytime soon. She was helped by a couple other people, including Boone. They didn't talk much as they did so, only commented on some of the things people bring with them on vacation.

"I'm going to go see if Shannon wants to help us," said Boone, folding up the shirt he held and putting it down. "See if she'll do anything more than just pretend this is a vacation."

"Okay," said Clementine. The group continued folding clothes.

Was this a useless act? Would they be getting off of this sweltering island soon? Who knows. The only thing that encouraged her to be patient was the giant payout they'd be getting when she got back to the States. She smiled to herself at the thought of getting out of this place. Boone came back a minute later, without Shannon at his side. Charlotte was about to ask, but Boone had already begun speaking.

"She's not coming," he said, picking up another shirt from the pile and beginning to fold it aggressively. "She's stuck in her 'we're getting out of here in a couple minutes, why bother' fantasy, so she's decided that this is just a mini vacation. She's found her stuff. She's tanning on the beach." He slammed the shirt onto the pile.

"Oh, leave her alone," said Clem. "That's how she deals with it, pretending it's not a problem. She went through a trauma, and she's just doing the best she can."

"We all went through a trauma," said Boone, placing a suit jacket into the 'impractical' pile.

"People deal with things in different ways, I guess." Clementine shrugged.

After another moment, a young kid came by— Walt. He was squinting his eyes from the sun, and he was wearing a shirt many sizes too big for him— maybe one of his dad's. He was holding a dog's leash.

"Have any of you seen my dog?" he asked.

"Dog?" asked Clementine. "You had a dog on the plane?"

"Yeah," nodded Walt. "His name's Vincent. He's a lab. He lived with me and my mom in Australia."

"Oh," said Clementine. "Sorry, Walt, I haven't seen your dog."

"Me neither," said Boone with a shrug.

"Oh," he said, though he didn't seem terribly discouraged. He turned around to walk away, but Clementine called out to him.

"You could check up the beach, by the trees," she said, louder so he could hear. Walt turned back around.

"Up there?" he asked, pointing toward a grove of trees just a few yards away. The floor was still sand up there, but it was covered in twigs and leaves, plus shaded by the tall, leafy trees growing high above.

"Yeah," said Clementine. "He might have wanted to get out of the sun. It's shady up there."

Walt smiled. "Thank you— um—" He stopped himself when he realized he didn't know her name.

"Clementine," she said, smiling at him. He smiled back, then ran up the beach toward the shade tree grove.

"You're good with kids," commented Boone. "I wouldn't have known what to say. Poor kid's dog's probably dead."

"Oh, come on. Labs are pretty resilient. I used to have one when I was a kid."

"Well, for his sake, I hope it's still alive."

Charlotte and Boone looked back down and continued sorting through and folding the clothes from the bags that had been found or that had washed up on the beach.  But a couple moments later, they heard shouting and grunting, and looked to the side to see Sayid and another person getting into a fight. People started drifting over and surrounding them, watching as they tried to hurt each other.

They walked over, perhaps wanting to see how it would turn out, wanting to make sure no one got hurt, or maybe even wanting to break it up.  No one standing around them yelled their names or said anything, only watched in surprise as the two men fought.

"Stop!" yelled Clementine. Though they were too busy with eachother to pay any attention to her. And she knew she wasn't strong enough to pull either of them away. Suddenly Jack rushed over, throwing his arms around the second man and attempting to pull him away. He'd just arrived back from his trek to go find the cockpit, along with a brunette woman and Charlie.

"Hey! Break it up!" he shouted.  "Break it up!  Get off!"

Michael ran over to help him, and grabbed Sayid by the shoulders.

"Come on! That's it! It's over!"

The two fighting men struggled in Jack and Michael's grasp, trying to get a grip and pull the other down.  They kicked and tried to punch their way out, but Jack and Michael's need to break them up was greater than their need to hurt each other.

"I'm sick of this redneck!" yelled Sayid.

"Want some more of me, boy?!" the blond yelled back. He had a southern accent and his neck-length hair was messy because of the fighting. He looked angry.  He probably was.

"Tell everyone what you told me!" Sayid yelled, motioning to the crowd while being held back by Michael. "Tell them I crashed the plane!  Go on! Tell them!"

"Yes, you did, buddy!" shouted the other man, trying still to get out of Jack's hold on him. 

"What is going on?" Jack yelled.  Sayid and the blond still yelled at each other over his voice, about who was a terrorist and who was lying and who had caused it all.  "What's going on?" he repeated, beginning to let go of the other man. Finally, he went away and stood in the middle of the crowd that had surrounded them.  "What's going on?!" he said, louder than the two men's shouts this time.

"Look, my kid found these in the jungle," said Michael quickly, handing Jack a pair of shiny metal handcuffs.

The southern man began talking, pointing at Sayid.  "This guy was sitting in the back row of business class the whole flight.  Never got up. Hands folded underneath the blanket."  The man was out of breath as he talked, but he was loud and accusatory.  "And for some reason—I'm just pointin' this out—the guy I saw next to him didn't make it." As he spoke, Jack held out his hand in front of his shoulder to keep him from walking any closer to Sayid.

"Thank you so much for observing my behavior," said Sayid, pointing his finger at the man.

"You don't think I saw them pull you out o' line before we boarded?" he said, getting closer.

Sayid yelled, and tried to punch him again, but Jack and Michael were ready, and pushed the two men backward again.

"Come on, bring it!" taunted the blond man loudly, trying again to get toward Sayid.

"Stop!" screamed a woman, brunette, staring straight at Sayid.  He looked at her and put his hands up, turning around.  Everything was quiet. "We found the transceiver, but it's not working," she said.  Clementine assumed she had went along with Jack and Charlie. "Can anybody help?"

"Yes," said Sayid finally, after a couple seconds of silence.  "I might be able to." He walked over and the woman handed him the device.

"Oh, great! Perfect!" said the blond man loudly. "Let's trust this guy!"

"Hey, we're all in this together, man," said the large guy with the long, curly hair.  "Let's treat each other with a little respect."

"Shut up, Lardo," said the angry blond.

"Hey," said Jack, walking over to him. "Give it a break."

"Whatever you say, doc." He looked up at Jack. "You're the hero." The blond man walked away.  Jack watched as he did, eyes thinned.

They began talking to each other— Boone walked up and joined the conversation, as well as an older, African-American lady called Rose that Clem had met yesterday during the rain.  Sayid talked technical about the transceiver, and said that he could possibly fix it.

So much action in 24 hours. Though, maybe not for Clementine.

She walked away and decided to just sit to herself for a while.  But there didn't seem to be a place anywhere near here where she could just be alone.  She tied her hair up and walked down the beach toward the water, an area where there were minimal people.  She took her top off, leaving herself in only her bra and shorts, and began splashing water over dried blood and dirt.  She took off any sand and made sure her hair was out of the way of the water.  She looked at all the blue, and she felt nothing but thirst. And anxiousness. And confusion.  And pain—saltwater in a wound. She turned her arm around and looked at the scratch from the tree she had hit up against when the plane crashed—stretching her arm to take her shirt off had opened up the wound again. 

She put her shirt back on and walked toward Jack, who was himself walking away from the man with a piece of shrapnel from the plane stuck in his stomach. She couldn't see his face, but he wasn't moving. Still unconscious.

"How's he doing?" asked Clem, nodding toward the man behind Jack.

The doctor wiped his hands off on a piece of a beach towel, dirtied with dried blood. He shrugged. "As well as he can be." His voice was monotone, and he didn't sound hopeful.

"I see," said Clementine.  "You're Jack, right? The doctor?" 

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "You alright?"

She held up her arm, and his brows twitched in surprise at the sight of the wound. 

"I fell and scratched it on a tree when we crashed.  It was fine then, it stopped bleeding, but it just opened again."

Jack took her right arm into his hands and looked at it, but only for a moment.

"I'll give you stitches," he said to her.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sewing kit.  "It shouldn't open after that."

Clementine nodded.

"You can kneel down," he said.  Clementine sat down onto the sand.  Jack knelt to the right of her, holding her arm in his careful hands.  "It's going to pinch," he said, threading the needle.

"I know," she said.  "I'll try to not think about it."

As soon as she felt the needle pierce her skin, she squinted in pain.

"So, what's your name?" Jack asked her, hoping to use the conversation as a sort of bedside manner.

"Clementine Roberts," she told him, trying her best to ignore the pain of him pulling at her skin with a sewing kit. Not exactly medical grade.

"Jack Shepard," he said in reply, even though she already knew.  "Nice to meet you, Clementine."

"You too," she said. It was silent for a second more—then Clementine began wincing at the pain of her skin being poked into and pulled closed.  "When you guys went into the jungle... you found the cockpit," she stated, hoping to start a distracting conversation.

"Yeah," said Jack, his voice quiet as he concentrated.

"Did you... see the pilot?"

Jack stopped sewing and picked his head up for a second, then looked back down at his first stitch on her arm. "Yeah," he said with a nod. "We did."

"He was dead?" asked Clementine.

Jack went back to sewing. "He wasn't when we found him," he began. Clementine focused on his voice instead of the pain. "Whatever's in the jungle... it took him right out of the cockpit. We found him dead 50 yards from the wreckage of the cockpit. In a tree, ripped to shreds."

"A tree?" repeated Clementine. She moved a bit as she spoke, and the stitches pulled a little. Jack put a hand on her shoulder to keep her a little steady.

"Whatever that thing is, it's big," said Jack.

"Did you get to talk to him?" Clem asked.

"Yeah," said Jack.

"What did he say? Are they gonna find us?"

Jack took a deep breath, trying to keep himself steady. She imagined he didn't have any good news, but she still wanted to know. "The radio in the plane stopped working in the middle of our flight," Jack began. "The pilot said they turned back to land in Fiji, but no one knew. No one knows where we are. He said that by the time the turbulence hit, we were already 1000 miles off course. Wherever they're looking for us," he paused, "it's in the wrong place."

"They've got no idea where we are," said Clementine quietly, almost to herself. "Is the transceiver working yet?"

"No," said Jack.  "Kate and Sayid are going into the jungle to take it to higher ground.  They couldn't get a signal."

"Kate," repeated Clementine quietly, thinking of the brunette from before.  "They're going now?"

"Soon," said Jack. 

"You think they need help?" asked Clementine, staring toward the immense jungle, the mountains, the layers and layers of trees.

"Maybe," he said, his voice low in concentration.

There was one more pull, and then nothing. 

"There," said Jack, wiping off the needle.  "You're good to go. Y'know, Kate's still around somewhere. You could ask them."

"Thank you," said Clementine, turning to face him and shaking his hand.

"No problem," he said, smiling at her.

No one knew where they were. They'd lost radio signal, hadn't told the people on the flight, and tried to turn back, but they didn't make it. And now they were looking for them in the wrong place.

She walked away, down the beach and further from the trees. She walked toward the end of the beach, hoping to clear her racing mind by going on Kate and Sayid's hike with them. As she trudged through the sand, she went past a large, curved piece of the engine, where someone was sitting, reading something and smoking a cigarette.

Charlotte stopped walking.

He was smoking a cigarette.

She turned to look at him—it was the blond that had got in a fight with Sayid. He looked away, cigarette now in his hand, staring at the thick jungle only a few feet ahead of his spot on the sand.  He held a piece of paper in his hand and he had been reading it, an upset look on his face. Clementine didn't know him enough to tell if he was sad or angry.

"Hey!" she called to him, making him turn his head. He scrunched his brows and stared at her as he put the cigarette back in his mouth. His hair blew in the breeze, and his blue eyes looked almost right through her.  She was almost taken aback by his appearance.  In a good way.

"Hey me?" he said, tilting his head. He put the piece of paper he was holding into his back pocket.  Clem didn't care enough about it to ask— the cigarette was the only thing on her mind.

"Yeah, hey you," she said, walking closer. "Where'd you get that?" She nodded to the cigarette in his mouth.

"This?" he said, raising his brows and taking the cigarette out of his mouth. Hey blew a puff of smoky air to the side. "I found it."

"You found it where?" she said.

"On the beach." The blond had a thick Southern accent.

Clementine crossed her arms. "Gee, thanks for the help."

"What's it to you?" he said, quirking a brow.

"I want one."

He raised his brows, looking her up and down. "I wouldn't take you for the smoking type, Miss Sunshine."

"There's a lot of things people wouldn't take me for," she said dryly. "You got any more?"

"Depends," said the man, tilting his head slyly. "What do you got?"

Clementine pulled a confused face. "What do I got?" She scoffed. "Well, if you haven't noticed, we're on a desert island, with no belongings, and no money." She gestured to the place around her and looked around, then back at the stubborn blond.

"There's always something," he said to her, smiling. "What about your name, and an IOU?"

"What?"

"Who knows how long we're gonna be on this island, Miss Sunshine. It's nice to have someone owe me a favor."

"Fine," huffed Clementine.

"And your name?"

"You first," she said.

"Sawyer," he said.

"Clementine."

"Clementine?" he repeated.

"Yeah..." she said. "It's a nickname. What's it to you?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "It's nice to meet you, Clementine," he said, as his confusion turned into an almost charismatic smile.

"Not sure yet if I can say the same, Sawyer," she said. "Where's my cigarette?"

"Here," he said, taking one out of his front shirt pocket. Clem took it into her hand.

"Light?" she said.

"A light was never included in the deal."

"Oh, give me a break," she said, rolling her eyes.  She held out the cigarette and waited for him to light it.

"Fine," he gave in.  He took out a lighter and held it up to her cigarette for a moment.  Clementine then took the first puff and closed her eyes, giving in to the seduction of the tobacco.  "That one's on me," said Sawyer, nodding to the lit cigarette now in her hand again.

"Uh huh," agreed Clem sarcastically. "Now move over." 

He listened, and she sat next to him in the spot he made. Sawyer then turned around and looked back into the jungle. Clem followed his gaze and caught a short glimpse of a group of people moving through, not so far away— the brunette she now knew was Kate and the dark skinned Sayid were among them.  They were the ones going off to try and get a transceiver signal.

"Gonna join them?" she asked him.

"You're a mind reader now, huh?" asked Sawyer, sounding a little annoyed.

"I was thinking the same thing, actually," said Clementine.

Clementine and Sawyer got up, then walked with large strides up to the group, hoping to catch up to the trek as fast as possible. She put out her cigarette in the sand. They caught up quickly, just as they were about to leave the vicinity of the camp.

"You decided to join us," said Kate, as she saw Sawyer take a place at the head of the group when he and Clem caught up.

"I'm a complex guy, sweetheart," he said, walking further ahead of the group.

Kate's face looked rather annoyed with the man and his arrogance.

"I think he woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," said Clementine, walking up to Kate.

"Imagine his mood when he doesn't get to wake up in a bed," said Kate.  Wonderfully for them, the sand wasn't even half as comfortable as a mattress.

Clem chuckled a little.  "You're Kate, right?" Kate nodded.   "I'm Clementine."

"Nice to meet you, Clementine."

— ◒ —

I really hate mountains, thought Clementine, as she and the group climbed a rather aggravating one. It was littered with roots and vines to hang on to, but the dirt slipped under her feet. Clementine had climbed before, sure, but not on mountains of dirt and earth on a desert island, ones of rock and sediment in cold places. With cords and ropes. Not vines and a whole group of people behind you. Fall down, you take them out, too.

Looking down, she saw only grass and the bumps of the hills that they had previously climbed. If she looked out behind her, she would only see more mountains of the same and sometimes larger height, and it would make her more anxious. She was glad she'd had that cigarette— its calming effect still seemed to exist in her mind.

When she got to the top, Sawyer, who was just in front of her, helped her up a little, then without a word, continued.

Finally sometime after they got to another wide open space where the trek continued and they walked easily through the jungle, surrounded by tall grass and palm trees. If she was actually meant to be here, Clementine might think it a type of paradise.

"Okay, wide open space!" said Sawyer, gesturing to the place around them. "You should check the radio, see if we're good."

"We're not going to have any reception here," replied Sayid, not even looking at him.

"Just try it."

"I don't want to waste the batteries," said Sayid.

"I'm not asking you to keep it on all day," asserted Sawyer, getting annoyed.

"We're still blocked by the mountain," said Sayid calmly.

"Just check the damn radio!" yelled Sawyer.

"If I just check," began Sayid, turning around to face Sawyer and yelling, "we might not have any juice left when we get to—"

Sayid whipped back around when there was the sound of a thud and a low roar.  Everyone stared in the sound's direction, frozen.  Then there was rustling— grass moved, but this wasn't from the wind.  Clementine gave a wide-eyed glance to her new friend Charlie, who returned the look.

"Oh, God," muttered Shannon, her voice high with fear.

"What the hell's that?" asked Boone.

"Something's coming," whispered Kate with caution.

"It's coming towards us, I think," said Charlie.  From the sound of the grass rustling getting louder, Charlotte would say he was definitely right. A path of movement came through the grass, though they couldn't see what monstrosity was running through it.

"Come on, let's move," said Kate, walking quickly away. 

"I shouldn't have come—" started Shannon, beginning to sob of fear.  She shouted when Boone pulled her away from the noise, as he yelled, "Come on, come on!"

They ran away, so did Clementine— who was just behind Charlie.  But she stopped when she realized Sawyer was not following her.

"Sawyer!" she said, stopping in her tracks.  Sawyer didn't move from the spot he was standing.

"Come on!" said Boone, running up behind her, along with the screaming Shannon.  "Just go!"

Clementine intended to listen.  And so just before she turned back around she caught a glimpse of Sawyer pulling something out of his pocket and pointing it at the thing coming toward them.  A gun, thought Clementine, stopping again as Boone and Shannon went ahead of her.  Where in hell'd he get a gun?

He fired the first shot.  The growling from the creature got louder.  By the time he fired it again, everyone had turned around and stopped.

He fired eight more.  When the group, headed by Clementine, got back to where he was, there laid a dead bear on the ground in front of them.  Sawyer stared at it.

"That's—" began Kate, stepping forward to see it better. "That's a big bear."

"Hell," said Clementine, staring down at its dirty fur. Its mouth hung open as it bled out.

"You think that's what killed the pilot?" asked Boone.

Kate looked at Charlie, who said, "No.  No, that's a tiny, teeny version compared to that."

"Guys, this isn't just a bear," said Kate, after staring at it for a moment. "It's a polar bear."

Clementine tilted her head, still staring at the bear.  She did suppose its fur looked as if it had been white, only a brown-gray now because of the dirt from the jungle. 

Boone looked over the dead bear closely, kneeling over it in denial and shock.

"That can't be a polar bear," he said.

"It's a polar bear," said Kate, Sayid, and Clem unanimously.

"Wait a minute," said Shannon, looking down at it with a face of confusion. "Polar bears don't usually live in the jungle, right?"

"Spot on," said Charlie sarcastically. 

"No, polar bears don't live near this far south," said Sayid.

"This one does," commented Boone.

"Did," said Sawyer, finally speaking up.  "It did."

"Where did that come from?" said Kate, implying the gun.

"Probably bear village," said Sawyer. "How the hell do I know?"

"Not the bear, Sawyer, the gun," said Clementine.  "Where did you get it?"

Everyone looked at the gun held beside him in his hand.

"I got it off one of the bodies," he said.

"One of the bodies," repeated Sayid, unsure.

"Yeah, one of the bodies," said Sawyer loudly, turning to him.

"People don't carry guns on planes," said Shannon, staring at the man.

"They do if they're U.S. marshals, sweet cheeks," he said patronizingly. "There was one on the plane."

"How do you know that?" asked Kate, looking rather appalled.

"I saw a guy lying there with an ankle holster," he explained. "So I took the gun. Thought it might come in handy. Guess what! I just shot a bear!" he shouted, gesturing to the dead animal on the ground.

"So why do you think he's a marshal?" Kate inquired.

"Because he had a clip-on badge." Sawyer put his hand behind his back and pulled something out of the pocket of his jeans. It was a circular badge with a silver ring and star on it. "I took that, too. Thought it was cool."

"I know who you are," said Sayid knowingly. "You're the prisoner."

"I'm the what?"

"You found a gun on U.S. marshal?" he inquired. "Yes, I think you did. You knew where it was. Because you were the one he was bringing back to the states. Those handcuffs were on you. That's how you knew there was a gun."

"Piss off," said Sawyer over him.

Sayid talked louder. "That's who you are, you son of a bi—"

"Be as suspicious of me as I am of you."

"You are the prisoner."

"Fine! I'm the criminal. You're the terrorist. We can all play a part." Sawyer turned to Shannon, who still had on the same face of disgust. "Who do you wanna be?" he asked.

Kate, in one quick motion, then leaned forward and took the gun from Sawyer's back pocket. He turned around as she pointed it at him.

"Does anybody know how to use a gun?" she asked, pointing it straight at his face.

"I think you just pull the trigger," said Charlie.

"Don't use the gun," said Sayid.

"I want to take it apart," said Kate.

"There's a button on the grip," explained Sayid. "Push that. It will eject the magazine."

Haphazardly, Kate pressed the button, and the magazine fell out of the gun and onto the ground.

"There's still a round in the chamber," Sayid continued. "Hold the grip, pull the top out of the gun."

She did again as he instructed.

She then gave one part to Sayid, and began handing the second to Sawyer, when he pulled on her wrist and brought her close to his face.

"I know your type," he said, almost threateningly.

"I'm not so sure," replied Kate.

"Yeah, I've been with girls like you," he said, a smirk plastered on his face. 

"No girl's exactly like me," said Kate, looking him in the eyes.  She backed away from him. 

Sawyer chuckled, then turned around to keep going.

"We should keep moving," said Sayid.

No one wanted to make group conversation after that.

They soon got to a grassy clearing between the mountains with few trees.  Clementine had always liked nature— clearings like this reminded her of when her dad used to take her camping.  She'd think this place was absolutely beautiful, too, if it wasn't a deserted island and they hadn't just crashed here in a plane.

Sayid took out the radio from his bag and unwrapped the protective cloth around it, preparing to turn it on for a signal.

"Oh, now's a good time to check the radio," said Sawyer, annoyed.  "Not before, but now."

"We're up higher," stated Sayid.

"Yes, we are," said Sawyer, in the same tone.

Clem heard the radio let out static.  Sayid muttered something to himself, stopping in his tracks.  "Hey!" he yelled.  "We've got a bar!"  As everyone ran toward him, he held the radio up to his ear, saying, "Mayday! Mayday!"

High pitched static came out of the other end.

"What is that?" asked Kate.

"Feedback," answered Sayid quickly.

"Feedback from what?  What would do that?"

"I don't know," answered Sayid.

"I'll tell you what would do that— this guy not fixin' the radio.  The thing doesn't even work," said Sawyer.

"Sawyer," scolded Clementine.

The high-pitched feedback continued.

"No, no, no, no, no," said Sayid.  "It's not broken."  He paused.  "We can't transmit because something else is already transmitting."

"Transmitting from where?" said Charlie.

"What?" questioned Shannon.

"Somewhere close," said Sayid. "The signal's strong."

"Somewhere close," repeated Charlie excitedly. "You mean on the island!  That's great!"

"Maybe it's other survivors," said Boone.

"From our plane?  How would they—" Shannon was cut off by Sawyer.

"What kind of transmission is it?" he asked.

"Could be a sat phone, it could be a radio signal," said Sayid.

"Can we listen to it?" asked Kate.

"Let me get the frequency first, hold on," said Sayid, beginning to turn a dial on the radio.

Sawyer rolled his eyes.  "There's no transmission."

"Shut up," said Kate. At the same time, Clem made a shushing noise.

"It's the rescue party. It has to be," said Charlie.

There was some more static, then a voice— a woman's— it was quiet, whispering, and speaking French.

"It's French!" exclaimed Charlie.  "The French are coming!  I've never been so happy to hear the French!"

Sayid laughed joyfully.

"I never took French, what is she saying?" asked Kate urgently.

"Does anyone speak French?" asked Sayid, looking around.

"I took Latin," said Charlotte, raising her hands, as if to say, don't look at me.

"She does," said Boone, pointing at his sister.

"No, I don't.  What?" said Shannon.

"The hell are you talking about!" yelled Boone.  He and his sister fought incoherently— then the radio began saying numbers.

"Okay.  What's that?" asked Charlie.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no," said Sayid.

"No, no, no what?!" said Kate.

"The batteries are dying!" he said frantically.

"How much time is left?" asked Clementine.

"Not much," said Sayid.

Boone yelled at his sister again. "I've heard you speak French, just listen to this—"

"I can't!" she replied.

"You speak French or not? Cause that would be nice," said Sawyer.

"That voice— that's weird. What is that?" asked Charlie, as an automated man's voice said another string of numbers. .

"Come on, come on!" said Boone.

"It's—" Shannon paused. "It's repeating."

"She's right," said Sayid. "It's a loop. Iteration—it's repeating the same message. It's a counter. The next number will end...5-3-3."

"Does anyone know what the hell he's talking about?" shouted Sawyer.

"It's a running counter for the number of times the message is repeated!" yelled Sayid. He began talking almost to himself. "It's roughly thirty seconds long, so... how long..." Sayid began doing math in his head, counting on his fingers.

"Come on, Shannon, just listen," said Boone.

"Don't forget to carry the one, chief," remarked Sawyer.

"She's saying..." began Shannon. "'Please'... she's saying, 'Please help me, please come get me.'"

"Or she's not! You don't even speak French!" yelled Sawyer.

"Let her listen, Sawyer!" said Clementine.

"Guys, the battery," said Charlie quietly. "The battery."

"Come on," Boone egged on.

Shannon put the radio up to her ear.

"'I'm alone now,'" she translated. "Um...'on the island alone. Please, someone, come. The others— they're.. they're dead. It killed them. It killed them all.'" The radio then turned to static, and Shannon, with a face of fear, took it away from her ears.

"That was good," said Boone.

"16 years," said Sayid.

"What?" asked Sawyer.

"16 years and 5 months. That's the count."

"The count?" repeated Clementine.

"The iterations. It's a distress call," explained Sayid. "A plea for help. A mayday. If the count is right, it's been playing over and over for 16 years."

"Someone else was stranded here?" said Boone.

"Maybe they came for them," said Kate.

"If someone came, why's it still playing?" said Sawyer, staring down at the radio.

"Guys.." said Charlie. "Where are we?"

Chapter Text

The sky became gray as they walked back down the mountains toward camp at the beach. Clementine had to admit— going down was so much easier than going up. The group walked at a slower pace than before, easing back into normality. Of course it wasn't normal. But being able to walk slow was close enough.

"It's getting dark," Boone pointed out.

"Then pick up the pace," remarked Sawyer.

Boone muttered something under his breath.

"A little louder?" said Sawyer.

Boone didn't reply.

"We should make camp," said Sayid.

"What, here?" said Shannon. There was the slightest bit of fear in her tone.

"Yes, here," replied Sayid.

"I'm not stopping," said Sawyer, continuing to walk as the rest of the group came to a stop. "Y'all have a nice cookout."

"Excellent, walk through the jungle in the dark," remarked Sayid.

"Ooh, afraid the trees are gonna get us?" mocked Sawyer.

"No," replied Sayid. "What is knocking down the trees will get you."

"Well, you're so worried about me," Sawyer began, pulling the body of the gun out of his pants, "how 'bout you give me the clip back?"

"Put your gun back in your pants, Sawyer," remarked Kate.

Sawyer smiled.

"Sayid's right," Clementine added, nodding out toward the jungle. "You walk through that, you're not making it to the beach."

"Yeah, why's that?"

Clem looked him in the eyes.

"Trust me."

— ◒ —

Clementine didn't know what time it was. She didn't know where she was, and she didn't know how far from the beach she was. She didn't know if she would be able to go to sleep. She didn't know when she would get to eat next. She didn't know if she would even wake up in the morning. She didn't know what that thing in the jungle was. She didn't know where it was, or if it was going to come and get her in the night.

They sat around a flickering, orange fire as Sayid explained the island's location with a rock and a stick with fire on the end. It was pitch black— but at least the light of the fire helped them to see his reenactment.

"This is Australia," said Sayid, setting the rock down on the ground. "This is us." He held up the makeshift torch.

"Nice stick," remarked Sawyer. Clem elbowed him, and he rolled his eyes.

Sayid ignored him and continued. "Two days ago, we take off from Sydney." He traced a path in the air with the stick. "We fly along the same northeast route every commercial airliner bound for Los Angeles does. Now, the pilot, he said he lost communication with the ground, correct?"

"Yeah, six hours in," said Kate. "He turned around and headed for Fiji."

"So he changed course," continued Sayid, turning the stick to go the opposite way. "Regrettably, no one knew he changed course. The turbulence hit." Sayid shook the stick, and sparks flew off the end. "We know the rest." He snuffed out the fire in the grass.

"The pilot said we were over 1,000 miles off course," added Kate.

"Yeah, but they'll find us," said Charlie. "They have satellites in space that can take pictures of your license plates."

"If only we were all wearing license plates," said Sayid, sitting back down on the grass around the fire.

"Well, aren't you the pessimist," said Charlie.

"Basic photography—Point and shoot," said Sayid. "Satellites can shoot, but they need to be told where to point."

"Oh," said Charlie, turning to look at the fire. "Bollocks."

"Okay, really enjoyed the puppet show. Fantastic," said Sawyer, interrupting their second of silence. "So we're stuck in the middle of damn nowhere. How 'bout we talk about the other thing? You know, the transmission Abdul picked up on his little radio. The French chick that said, 'They're all dead.' The transmission's been on a loop for... How long was it, Clementine?" he asked, turning to her with a smile.

"16 years," she answered, staring at the ground blankly.

"Right," said Sawyer. He turned back to the group. "Let's talk about that."

There was a slight pause before Boone said, "Well, we have to tell the others when we get back."

Shannon looked up at him. "Tell them what exactly?"

"What we heard."

"You didn't hear anything. I'm not a stupid translator," argued Shannon. When she got angry her voice always sounded coated with sadness— as if she were about to cry. After hearing her angry so much on this trip, Clem had observed that.

"No one's going to tell them anything," said Sayid, stopping their quarrel.

Everyone went quiet.

"To relay what we heard without fully understanding it will cause a panic. If we tell them what we know, we take away their hope. And hope is a very dangerous thing to lose."

"So we lie," said Kate plainly.

Clementine looked down at the fire.

— ◒ —

"What are you doing?" said Sayid's voice. It woke Clem up with a start as his voice had made her fall to death in her dream.

"I'm standing guard. You heard what they said's out there," said another voice— Boone's.

Clementine rubbed her eyes and sat up.

"You took my gun off me, boy?" started Sawyer.

"You've never even held a gun," said Shannon. "He doesn't believe in guns. He goes on marches."

"I don't go on marches."

"Give it back to me," said Sayid seriously.

Sawyer scoffed. "Yeah, give it to Al-Jazeera. He'll protect us."

"Al-Jazeera's a network," corrected Charlie.

"I'll keep the damn gun," said Boone.

"A gun isn't going to protect you from whatever's out there," said Clementine, gesturing to the grove of trees. She thought about what Jack had told her about the pilot— "ripped to shreds."

"We should give it to her," said Shannon, looking at Kate.

Kate looked around at them quietly as all heads turned to face her.

"Yeah," said Charlie. "Kate should hold the gun."

"Fine with me," said Sayid.

Everyone looked at Boone, who looked down at the gun in his hand, shifting.

"Well?" asked Sayid.

Boone walked over slowly and handed Kate the gun. She took it and looked down at it for a second, then put it in her back pocket.

— ◒ —

They got back to the beach in the morning— people crowded around them as they walked toward the main area of the wreckage. People talked amongst each other and at the group with questions about what happened. Sayid stood up on one of the pieces of wreckage and began speaking to the gathering crowd.

"We hiked up the mountain in an attempt to help the rescue team locate us." He paused. "The transceiver failed to pick up a signal. We weren't able to send out a call for help."

Clementine heard "aw"s from the crowd, and people began to look down, upset.

"But we're not giving up!" said Sayid. "If we gather electronic equipment— your cell phones, laptops— I can boost the signal, and we can try again. But that may take some time, so for now, we should begin rationing our remaining food. If it rains, we should set up tarps to collect water. I need to organize three separate groups. Each group should have a leader. One group for water. I'll organize that. Who's going to organize electronics?"

He pointed to people in the crowd who offered to help and assigned them to their duties. Clementine was asked to help set up tarps for water.

"Need some help, Miss Sunshine?" asked a familiar voice.  Sawyer sauntered over to where she was standing, trying to fit a tarp over a round piece of wreckage she'd positioned on the sand.  She hoped to cover it to catch the water in the tarp, but every time she did so, one side would come off, because the tarps they used on the plane to keep the bags in place weren't exactly stretchy.

"I'm doing just fine, thanks," she said, pulling it slowly over the curved piece of metal.  Unfortunately for her, however, the other side immediately came undone the moment she pulled the tarp where it needed to be.  Clementine groaned.

"You sure?" he said, grabbing the other side of the tarp.  She stayed quiet, and instead held onto her end as he helped her stretch it over the metal piece of the siding from the plane.  "Pull it hard," he said with a nod.  She used her muscle to spread the side of the tarp over the metal, and together, they'd created a sort of fabric water barrel for catching the rain.  "See?" he said, dusting off his hands. 

Sure, it was a nice thing to do, but she wasn't about to get on her knees from gratefulness.  "Thanks," she said simply, not even looking at him in the eyes.  She didn't want him getting an ego about what a nice thing he'd done for her.  She already owed him one.

"That's all I get?" he asked.

"There's more to do," she said.  "You going to help me, or not?" She took a few steps away.

Sawyer sighed, smiling, then followed her down the beach.

Later, it started to rain. Luckily, the group was close to finished with the tarps, but a couple of people scrambled to put out a few more between the trees. Others rushed to shelter, or to put up tarps over parts of the plane, making a sort of tent. Charlotte roomed under one of the wings of the plane again until the rain stopped. She enjoyed the sound of the showers falling onto the beach. It was peaceful. It wasn't completely quiet, no— but it was like silence. To her, it was bliss.

Later in the evening, the rain had stopped, and the bliss was indeed gone. Clem sat with Sawyer against a piece of the wreckage that evening, sharing a cigarette. She wanted them to last— and if she wanted that, she'd have to smoke less, and ration them. But her anxiety felt otherwise.

All evening, the man with the piece of plane stuck in his chest groaned and shouted in pain. Blood was filling up his lungs, and the fact that he was awake and had no numbing didn't help his situation either. Evening turned into night, and the man didn't stop.

"Geez, would he shut up already?" said Sawyer, throwing a hand in the air.

"Come on, Sawyer, have a little sympathy," said Clementine. "If you had a giant piece of metal stuck in your chest, and your lungs were all full of blood, I'd bet you'd be the same way."

"Hell no," he said, taking another drag of the cigarette, then handing it to Clementine. "I'd shut up and stop botherin' everybody, then take it like a man."

"Uh-huh," she said sarcastically.

"But I'll tell you what, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be Kate right now," he commented, looking in her direction. She walked towards the tent where Jack was taking care of the ailing man.

Clementine turned to look at him. "Why not?"

"Everybody just wants him to stop," he began. "And pretty much everybody knows he's going to die anyway. And there's only one way to put him out of his misery."

"The gun," she realized, looking toward Kate.

Sawyer got up from the spot, leaving Clementine with the cigarette, and walked in Kate's direction. She watched as he sat and lit the wood she had piled up into a fire, then conversed with her by it for a little while. Kate then walked up toward Jack. He said something to her, then Kate went into the tent. Clem wondered if Jack knew that she had the gun on her.

Clementine heard no shouting coming from the tent for the next fifteen minutes. Nothing happened, so she stopped watching.

She remembered that man from the plane. She remembered his face from before, and she remembered the same face when she went to Jack to get her arm stitched up. He was a marshal. He had a badge, he was wearing a suit. She remembered bumping into him when she was putting her bag in the overhead compartment.

"Damn it," she muttered to herself, having dropped her bag on her foot after backing into him. "I am so sorry, sir," she said. She caught sight of his badge, then immediately turned her gaze back to his eyes. "I didn't know you were behind me."

"That's fine," he said with a smile. "Trust me, I've been bumped into much harder."

Clementine smiled back and picked up her bag from the floor, then began lifting it up to put it back into the overhead compartment.

"Here," he said, putting a hand under her bag.

"Oh, thanks," Clem said, stepping back.

The marshal pushed her bag into the compartment much easier than she would have, then closed it for her.

"Thank you," Clem repeated. "And sorry again," she finished.

"No problem," he replied. He smiled shortly once more, then made his way into his seat, just two ahead of hers. He sat next to a someone with dark hair, though Charlotte never got to see their face. 

Charlotte still wondered who that was.  Though having been handcuffed and unable to get to the oxygen masks, she assumed the criminal was long dead.  She waited by the piece of wreckage alone, watching the people scattered along the beach.  She liked sitting away from people and just watching them.  It was almost like being in another place.  She would zone out and just watch people walk across the beach from one place to another. 

She looked back up toward the tent when she heard Jack call, "Kate!" loudly.  She walked out of the tent alone.  She hadn't killed him.  Clementine wasn't sure why she had gone in there in the first place, though. Kate turned back to look at Jack. 

Then there was a gunshot. 

Clementine instinctively stood up and looked at the tent.  Other people turned their heads, some backed away. Jack had been startled. Kate stood there for another second, staring at Jack, then looked down and walked away.  From the other exit of the tent, a man walked out. There was a gun in his hand that rested by his side.

Clem squinted. He came into the light of the fire next to the tent.

Sawyer.

"What did you do?" Jack yelled.  Clementine marched up there.

"What you couldn't," said Sawyer, staring as Jack walked up to him angrily.  "Look, I get where you're comin' from, being a doctor and all. But he wanted it.  Hell, he asked me."  Jack stared at him, close to his face. "So I don't like it anymore than you do.  But something had to be done."

Clementine got closer.  She heard coughing coming from inside the tent.  Groaning in pain.

"Oh, no way," said Hurley, standing outside the tent. Jack and Sawyer rushed in.  "Guys," he called to them.

"Hurley," said Clementine.  He hadn't heard her, focused on the tent and the noise inside. "Hurley," she repeated.  He turned to her.  His eyebrows were raised and his eyes were wide.  "What's going on?" 

"He shot him," said Hurley, continuing to stare at the tent. 

"Is he still breathing?" she asked. 

"I think so," said Hurley.  Jack's voice yelled at Sawyer from inside the tent— but Clem didn't hear Sawyer yelling back.  In a minute, she saw him come out of the tent, and immediately take a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.  The man kept groaning inside the tent.  Sawyer put one into his mouth and took out his lighter. He clicked it a couple times, but the flame didn't last long enough for him to light it.  He got frustrated and threw the cigarette, saying, "Damn it!"

"Sawyer," said Clem calmly, walking up to him. 

"What?" he snapped, still frustrated.

Clem sighed. She kept calm. "You put him out of his misery, huh?" 

"I tried," he said bluntly, brows furrowed.  He didn't look at her.

The groaning inside the tent stopped.  Jack walked out of it, right past Sawyer and Clementine.  He didn't look at either of them.  No one said anything. Jack looked both upset and angry.  On the verge of tears, but ready to punch someone in the face. Probably Sawyer.

"Are you okay?" said Clementine, as Jack walked further away.  She saw Hurley making his way back down the beach, too.

"I'm going to sleep," Sawyer said.  He walked away.  Clementine watched him walk away for a second before walking off in her own direction, attempting to find someplace to rest her own eyes.

She eventually decided on dragging one of the more intact seats from the plane under a wing, where it would be shady in the morning, and perhaps she wouldn't have to wake up so early.  Her sleeping situation was just next to Claire's.  The pregnant girl slept soundly— she didn't wake up once in the middle of the night.  Clem, on the other hand, woke up multiple times.  The shade didn't help her to get any more sleep than she would have anyway.

She wasn't sure what time it was when she woke up, but almost everyone was asleep. She assumed it was still early. There was one person awake, staring at the water. Clem spotted a box of matches lying in the sand next to her and picked it up. It had the name of a restaurant on it. SEASIDE IN SYDNEY, it read.

She put it in her pocket and continued walking toward the person watching the water. She knew who it was— she could tell by the way his blond hair was flowing in the wind as if he were in Titanic. He was damn pretty, she'd give him that.

"Morning," she said, standing next to him. Sawyer looked up at her.

"Mornin'," he replied. He looked back down as she took a seat next to him.

"How are you?" she said, playing with the sand between them.

"Just dandy," he replied.

"I'm sorry," she said to him. She didn't really think about the words— they sort of came out in an awkward silence.

He scrunched his brows and turned to her. "For what?" he questioned.

"That she had to give you back that gun. That you had to be the one to do it."

Sawyer looked back at the ground.

"Need a cigarette?" she asked, as if she had one.

"Lighter's out of juice," he replied, not looking at her.

Clementine reached into her jeans pocket. Sawyer watched her hands as she pulled out the box of matches and held it up with a smile.

"Where'd you get that?" he said, taking them from her.

"I found it," she said, using his words. He rolled his eyes, then handed her a cigarette. She put it in her mouth, and he pulled out one for himself and did the same. Then silently, he lit a match and used it to light both of their cigarettes. He put the match out and threw it into the sand. They watched the ocean get pulled back and forth, coming back new every time.

Chapter Text

Clementine woke slowly to loud barking noises. It was dark, and she didn't immediately process where she was until her eyes were fully open.  The barking continued, and more people rose awake around her, their slumber cut short by Walt's dog, Vincent's, loud barks.  Michael had found the lab yesterday morning. His barks were directed at the plane wreckage— inside, there were clatters and crashes.  Someone— or something— was inside. 

People began standing and staring at it with wide eyes.  Jack came forward to the front of the group. 

"What is it?" asked Kate.

"Somebody's in there," said Claire, her voice cracking.

"Everyone in there's dead," added Sayid. 

"Sawyer," said Jack turning to the group.  Clementine knew he liked to go through the plane and snag anything he could find— but she didn't think he'd have any reason to be doing it in the middle of the night.

"Right behind ya, jackass," said Sawyer's voice from beside the doctor.  Jack and everyone else turned to him, then back to the plane.  Everyone was here.  Who was inside?

The rattling continued as Jack pulled a small flashlight out of his front pocket and stepped forward.  "Jack—" began Kate, but she didn't finish.  Sawyer used the big flashlight and continued just behind him.  They turned the lights on and pointed them toward the rattling wreckage. It sounded as if someone were clanging pots and pans inside a busy kitchen.  Kate followed behind them, and they walked toward the sounds warily.  The dark made it more eerie than it would have been in the daytime.

They went around to the open part of the fuselage and shined the flashlights inside. Charlie joined them. The creaking of the metal continued as they stared inside the plane and everyone else stared at them.

Jack's small flashlight only showed so much, and Sawyer seemed to get annoyed. "I'm gonna shed some light on this—" he began, shining the large flashlight into the fuselage, but Jack pushed his arm away. There was a grunt that came from inside the plane—

"Run!" shouted Jack.

Everyone ran.

Clementine stood there and stared at the fuselage for a moment, in the middle of the chaos. Sawyer grabbed her by the arm, yelling, "Are you crazy?" She followed him, tripping over her own feet, but managing to get away from the sand. Sawyer and Clementine backed away near another part of the wreckage— their eyes followed three short figures running into the jungle. The screams and chaos stopped, and people stared at the spot where the creatures entered between the trees.

"They've gone," announced Sayid.

A Korean woman that had crashed on the island along with her husband, said something confusedly in her language, tripping over a piece of the wreckage. Her husband helped her up.

"What the bloody hell was that?" commented Charlie. Everyone began walking forward, attempting to see the tracks in the sand or just the place they had gone from.

"Boars," said John Locke.

Locke was an older, bald man. He had a scratch over the upper right side of his face, going from his eyebrow to his cheekbone. There was always a sort of mysterious look in his eye, like he knew something about you, or perhaps was trying to figure something out. Clementine had never talked to him, but she'd stared a bit. (What? People stare.) He would often talk to that kid, Walt, even though Walt's father didn't seem to like that. Michael didn't like Locke— Clementine wasn't really sure why, but Walt did seem to be spending more time with him than his own father.

Clementine went back to sleep a little more easy than the last three nights. Boars. Just boars. But there were other things on her mind. Usually, a question like, "How long is it gonna take to get out of this place?" But she slept. That's all that mattered.

The sun was high in the sky when she awoke, burning her eyes. But she soon adjusted to the light, and got up. They were told that the boars were looking to feed on the bodies in the fuselage, and that they had to dispose of them— and so at sundown, they were going to burn the fuselage. Many people thought they deserved better than that. That they might not want to be burnt. That they should be buried. But the bodies wouldn't stay buried for long under the sand, and burying them would be hard without shovels. Clementine agreed, half heartedly, that they needed to be burned.

People were collecting wood for the fire at sunset. Of course, some people decided not to help in protest, but because they had all day, they didn't need too much help.  As Clementine was taking driftwood in from the water, she began to hear yelling coming from a little way's up the beach.  She put the driftwood down and made her way toward the action.  People began to surround the scene.

"What's your problem? Hand 'em over!" yelled Hurley, trying to grab at a backpack in Sawyer's hand.  He took it out of his reach.

"How about no?" said Sawyer angrily.

"There's other people here, or don't you give a crap?" Hurley shouted back, trying to grab behind Sawyer.  Sawyer pushed him away.

"Well, if one of us wouldn't eat more than his fair share!" Sawyer said back.  Hurley put his arms around him and tried to grab the backpack from behind.

"Oh, that's bull and you know it!" said Hurley.  Sawyer turned to get out of his grasp and held the backpack behind him.

"Guys, stop!" said Clementine.  They didn't hear her.

"You're not happy unless you're screwing over—"

"Hey, I'm peachy, pork pie!"

"Guys, knock it off," said Jack, walking toward them. 

"Stay out of this, Metro!" said Sawyer.  Hurley had him by his arms, but Jack ran in and pushed them apart before Sawyer could do anything or before Hurley could get a firm grasp.

"Hey!" said Jack.  Sayid came to help him, and pushed Hurley away, while Jack held out both hands and kept distance between the two men. "What's going on?" Jack continued, looking from Hurley to Sawyer.

Hurley pointed at Sawyer.  "Jethro here's hoarding the last of the peanuts," he said. 

"My own stash," said Sawyer, pointing to himself, and then to the fuselage.  "I found it in there."

Jack and Sayid looked to Hurley. "What about the rest of the food?" Jack inquired.

"There is no rest of the food, dude," said Hurley. "We kinda..." He looked around.  Everyone was staring. "... ate it all."

"What?" said Shannon.  Other people began expressing confusion and surprise to eachother.

"Okay, everybody, just calm down," said Jack. The murmurs died down.

"We can find food," announced Sayid, walking toward the middle of the gathering.  "There are plenty of things on this island we can use for sustenance." He sounded very sure. It made the people listen.

"And exactly how are we gonna find this sustenance?" challenged Sawyer, taking a seat on one of the blue sets of chairs they had found on the plane. All heads turned to him.

As he finished his statement, a sharp noise was heard and a large knife landed right next to Sawyer's head, on the headrest of the seat next to him.  Everyone traced its path backwards to who had thrown it— John Locke stood at the edge of the gathering in front of one of the charred engines.

"We hunt," he said. 

Jack walked toward the chairs Sawyer sat on.  "How'd you get that knife on the plane?" asked Kate, pointing to it as Jack pulled it out of the fabric.

"Checked it," said Locke. 

"You either have very good aim, or..." began Jack, walking over to Locke with the knife in hand, "very bad aim, Mr..." The doctor waited for the bald man to complete the sentence as he took the knife he was handed.

"Locke," completed Michael Dawson, glaring.  "His name is Locke." He spoke through gritted teeth.

Jack turned back to the man. "Okay, Mr. Locke, what is it that we're hunting?"

Locke's eyes moved toward the jungle. "We know there are wild boar on the island. Razorbacks, by the look of them. The ones that came into the camp last night were piglets. Hundred, hundred fifty pounds each." His head did not move, but his eyes panned the faces of the people staring at him. "Which means that there's a mother nearby. A 250-pound rat, with scimitar-like tusks and a surly disposition who would love nothing more than to eviscerate anything comes near." His speech became louder. "A boar's usual mode of attack is to circle around and charge from behind, so I figure it will take at least three of us to distract her long enough for me to flank one of the piglets, pin it, and slit its throat."

Sawyer looked at Jack. "And you gave him his knife back," he said, raising his brows.

Jack turned his head to face him. "Well, if you've got a better idea," he challenged.

"Better than three of you wandering into the magic forest to bag a hunk o' ham with nothing but a little bitty huntin' knife?" He paused. "Hell no," he said sarcastically. "It's the best idea I ever heard."

Jack half-rolled his eyes and looked back at John. With his foot, John lifted the top of a silver case on the ground next to him, where multiple knives reflected the sunlight. They laid in foam and were secured in size order inside the case. Clementine tilted her head, wondering how in hell he ever got that on the plane. Everyone looked down at it in confusion.

"Who is this guy?" muttered Hurley.

— ◒ —

Clementine sat on the beach for a while after that. She didn't plan to go on the hunt— she wasn't into that sort of thing, anyway. She hadn't liked it when she was little, on camping trips, and she didn't like it now. She helped prep wood for a little while longer then decided to take a rest and sit a little ways down the beach, trying not to think about things. Clear the mind, you know?

"Dad, can we go back now?" a young Charlotte whined. For her 8th birthday, her little sister had decided she wanted to go camping, and until now, her older sister was more than happy to go with her. But her father had decided it was the perfect time to teach Charlotte to hunt. "I don't think there are any deer here," the girl completed.

"Trust me, Clementine, there are," said her father quietly, a large knife resting by his side as he tiptoed through the forest. "And talk quieter, would you?"

"Alright," she said, now in a breathy whisper.

They continued walking slowly through the forest, following a trail a group of deer had left. After a couple more feet of walking, Clem's dad held out his hand, signaling for her to stop. She did so, but had to take another step before she did— and not watching where her foot landed, stepped on a twig, breaking it loudly.

Her father's head turned to her as Charlotte heard little footsteps gallop away, further into the forest. "Sorry," mouthed Clementine.

Her father turned back around to find the mother deer still waiting there to find the source of the noise, even though her children had already run away. The doe was not looking in their direction and seemed to think the noise had come from the opposite way. Clementine's father snuck further toward the deer, then swiftly, injured it with the knife as Clem turned and shut her eyes. She heard the deer let out a screech, then a thump as it fell to the ground.

"Clementine," her father's voice called again. "C'mere."

"I don't want to look," she said, peeking at him through her fingers.

"You can look, Clem. It's not dead."

Clementine slowly took her hands off her eyes. The doe was indeed not dead, but its leg was bleeding, and surely it couldn't stand anymore. She looked straight at Clementine.

"I want you to kill it," her father said, as she stared at it. Her head immediately turned to face him.

"What?" she said. "No."

"Come on, Clem. You're not a baby anymore. You're twelve."

"I'm not killing anything, dad. I don't like hunting."

"It's a good skill to have, Clementine. And it's just a deer. Come on. You'll be stronger. You'll have got us dinner."

"Dad—"

"Go ahead, Clementine. Otherwise something's going to smell the blood and get to her before we do." Her father held out the slightly bloodied knife in his hand for Charlotte to take. She did so slowly, holding it like her dad had taught her, over the deer's back, where its heart would be. She brought it up slowly, ready to dig it into the deer's skin, and shut her eyes—

But it wasn't going to happen. She couldn't do it.

Clementine dropped the knife on the ground and stepped away from the injured deer.

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping back behind the tree from before. "I can't do it, dad. I don't want to."

"Alright," he said to her. He sounded a little disappointed. He picked up the knife from the ground, and this time, Clem closed her eyes and covered her ears when he did what he was going to do. She heard nothing, and stayed in front of her dad the entire time as he carried it back to the campsite just so she didn't have to look at it.

Charlotte only ate vegetables that night.

— ◒ —

"Hey, Charlotte?" a voice with an Australian accent asked. Clem felt a poke on her shoulder and came out of her trance, turning to find Claire's familiar face. She had a gray book in one hand with pages all sticking out and the other now on her stomach.

"I was wondering... well, we found this in the wreckage." Claire sat down next to her on the sand and handed her the book. Clem flipped through the scrapbooked pages— they had pictures of a couple, faces she had passed by on the plane when she got on. "It's a wedding scrapbook. Their names are Steve and Kristen." Claire smiled as Clementine flipped through the pages of color swatches and photos of flowers. "I remember because they sat a couple rows behind me. They were so happy." She paused. "We were going to have a little service for everyone. I was thinking we could just say something if we knew the person a bit, or just list names off of passports and licenses. I— well, do you want to be apart of it?"

Clementine smiled up at Claire. "That's so sweet, Claire, of course," she said. "Is there anything you want me to do specifically? Do you have a leader or something?"

"Well, I was thinking I would lead it, maybe, since Jack said no."

Clem tilted her head.

"Jack said no?" Clem repeated.

"Yeah," said Claire, looking down.

"Did he say why?"

"No," she replied, looking back up at Clem. "He just said no.  Said it wasn't his 'thing.'"

"Huh," said Clementine, looking back out at the horizon. Jack, as the only doctor among the survivors, seemed to be the proclaimed leader of them all— why would he decline? Wouldn't the service be a nice sentiment? But, worrying about that would have to wait til later.

"We're doing a big fire tonight at sunset, after the beach has been mostly cleared," said Claire. "I'd love it if you could come."

"Absolutely," said Clementine.  "Anything."

"Thank you, Charlotte."

Charlotte smiled in reply, then handed Claire back the gray book. She stood up so that she could help the pregnant girl stand, as well. Claire took Clem's hand and used it to help herself up. After a quick goodbye, she walked away, and Clementine was left to herself again— but not for very long.

After only a minute or two of resting her eyes, she heard quick footsteps coming toward her, trudging through the sand. She opened her eyes to find Shannon rushing toward her. She wasn't even up next to her when she started calling her name. "Clementine," she said, seemingly in a rush. Clem sat up and brushed the sand off her hair.

"Yeah?" she said. She didn't stand up, but Shannon didn't seem to mind.

"Hi," she said quickly, standing in front of her. "Um, do you know how to fish?"

"Fish?" Clem repeated. "No. Why?"

"Boone thinks I can't get food out here."

Clementine understood immediately. "And you need to prove him wrong."

Shannon nodded. "So you don't know how to fish?"

"No," said Clementine. "Sorry."

"That's fine," said Shannon. "I'm sure someone here has to know. Thanks anyway."

Clementine sent her a straight-mouthed smile as she watched her walk off in search of someone else to help her.

— ◒ —

Once Clementine decided rest just wasn't in the cards for her, she'd decided to go and join Claire and some others in sorting through things like books and personal papers, to be burned in the fire during the service. They were sitting on one of the wings of the plane surrounding a small pile of papers, wallets, and personal bags. Claire told her they were putting everything with a name on it, licenses or passports or something else, into a pile in front of them.

After a little while of sorting. Sawyer stepped over with a couple wallets in hand. "Hey," he said to Claire.

"Hey," she replied, closing the passport in her hand and looking up at him.

"Uh, these were, um..." He held out the wallets for her to take a look at. "I found these the other day when I was..." He used the wallets to gesture toward the fuselage, currently in search of the words to explain what he had been doing. Clementine had a sneaking suspicion, but didn't say anything. Sawyer put his hands down and stared at them. Claire watched and waited for him to speak, but he didn't want to say anything. "Ah, hell, just-just take it," he said finally, handing them to her.

"Thank you," said Claire, taking them from him.

He gave her a slight nod, then walked in the other direction.

"He's interesting," said Claire quietly to Clementine, once he was gone. "You know him, right?" She put the wallets in the pile next to her.

"I guess," said Clementine. "We've talked. But from what I know so far, what he just did is not like him."

"Well, maybe he's had a change of heart," smiled Claire, opening the passport in her lap once again.

"Maybe."

Some minutes after that, Michael and Kate came back from the boar hunt. Michael had hurt his leg, badly, it seemed, so Hurley rushed over to help him walk just as Walt ran over, bombarding his father with questions. It was the most Clementine had seen him talk to his father. Locke, however, their hunt leader, was nowhere to be found, and they didn't come back with anything to eat, either.

Sawyer walked up, too, with Clementine close behind him, leaving her spot on the wing.  "The mighty huntress returns," remarked Sawyer. "What's for dinner—"

"Not now," said Kate, walking past him without even looking at him in the eyes.  Sawyer simply watched her go, then glanced at Clementine,  who huffed and shook her head, then followed Kate.

"What happened out there?" she asked, jogging up to the brunette.  She looked tired, and had a few brand new scratches on her cheekbone. "Where's Locke?"

"The mother snuck up on us," explained Kate, walking up toward one of the canopies they'd created and taking her backpack off.  Clementine followed her inside.  "Michael got hurt, and we had to come back," she continued, kneeling down to unpack a few things into a suitcase full of amenities, "but Locke stayed." She turned to face Clementine. "The whole reason I went out there is so I could place an antenna for Sayid.  He wants to boost the transceiver signal. But" — she took something out of her pack, a broken mess of wires and metal pieces, something that might have been useful in the past, but was now rendered useless — "whatever was in the jungle came to get us.  I broke it." She placed the mess of wires and electronics on the sand beside her.

Clementine held back a disappointed sigh, but she was sure her face showed her growing hopelessness. "Did you see it?  The monster?"

Kate shook her head.  "But it was going in Locke's direction.  I don't know where he is now."

Clementine looked down, then back up at Kate. "You think he'll be okay?"

Kate didn't look at her.  "I don't know." She didn't sound hopeful.

There was a couple moments of silence before Kate closed up her bag and put it aside, then picked up the broken pieces of the antenna once again.  "I'm going to go give this to Sayid," she said. Clementine nodded, and Kate walked off down the beach, leaving Clem alone with her thoughts.

— ◒ —

"Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has switched on the fasten seatbelts sign. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts."

Clementine knew hers was already clicked and tight, but she looked down and checked anyway. Yep, still buckled.

Turbulence had just woken her from a light nap.  She seemed to always fall asleep on commercial planes, whether it was bright daylight, like today, or at night.  It didn't matter— the altitude just seemed to make her tired. The man who had been sitting next to her when she'd fallen asleep was now gone— bathroom, she assumed.

Clementine was used to turbulence.  She wasn't afraid of flying— on the contrary, she quite enjoyed it.  She'd flown in all kinds of planes, stunt planes, skydiving planes, and helicopters, too. Those rides were always shaky, and she was used to the feeling. Clementine was what a lot of people might call an "adrenaline junkie"— if it freaked her out, chances are she'd be doing it the next day. 

The plane shook again, creaking slightly, but once again, it didn't bother her.  She could tell people around her were becoming a little unsettled, but she kept herself calm.  It was normal.

Another shake, this one longer and louder.  The lights flickered, and there were a few "whoa"s and gasps from around her.  Clem gripped onto the arms of her seat a little tighter, and leaned her head back.

CRASH!

There was a big shake, and someone in front of her who hadn't been wearing their seatbelt flew out of their seat, hitting the ceiling and falling back down to the ground along with a few carry on bags.  The shouts of worry didn't stop this time, and Clem's concern heightened.  This wasn't normal.  Not like this.  The plane didn't stop shaking this time, and even though her eyes were now closed, she could feel in her body and hear the noise of the plane rapidly descending, the high pitched hum of them all falling through the air.

She heard a hiss and opened her eyes wide as yellow oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling.  She grabbed the one that had fallen in front of her face, her hands shaking.  "This can't be how I die," she thought, breathing deeply into the mask as the hum became louder, higher.  Faster. Faster.  "This can't be how I die."

Screams and shouts of panic overwhelmed her ears, and she wanted to cover them, but she had glued her hands to the seat in hopes of staying steady. She wished for her father to be sitting beside her. There was no doubt about it, now. The plane was going down, and there was no stopping it.

Clementine hadn't even realized it, but she was slowly losing consciousness, the rapid loss of altitude and the state of panic she was in beginning to shut her down. Her grip on the arms of her seat seemed to loosen, and the last thought she had before she passed out was of her sister, eternally 8 years old. Maybe she'd get to see her again.

— ◒ —

"You doing okay, Miss Sunshine?"

A shadow stood above her, blocking the sun from view. She was still kneeling on the sand where she'd been when Kate left, getting lost in her own brain. She looked up to find Sawyer standing in front of her, one side of his lips turned up in a smile. He'd spooked her awake from her little daydream. "You look like you seen a ghost," he said. "Am I that scary?"

Clementine huffed. "I wish you'd stop calling me that. I've got a name, you know."

"Well, I think this one suits you better." He put his hand out to help her up, and she took it, allowing him to pull some of her weight out of the sand.  She dusted off her legs. 

"I need a cigarette," she said, reaching into his front pocket and taking the pack before he could stop her.  She walked away down the beach, and he followed her. 

"I could tell," said Sawyer, as she took one out of the pack and put it in her mouth.

Before she could take out a match, however, she glanced up the beach to see three figures walking out of the jungle. Jack, then Kate— and behind them, an older, bald man, lugging something behind him. Clem squinted, putting her hand over her eyes as Sawyer, too turned to see what she was looking at.

John Locke, covered in blood, pulling a 200 pound boar down the beach. He'd succeeded, and he was alive.

— ◒ —

Night soon came upon them, and after a dinner of wild boar, the fuselage was burned at sundown, along with all of the bodies inside.  Claire stood at the front, reading names off papers and ID cards.  Boone held a fiery torch over her for some light, and Hurley stood on her other side, handing her each slip of paper with a name of someone deceased.

The whole camp had gathered there, all 47 survivors of Oceanic flight 815 standing in front of the burning fuselage and listening to Claire read names, trying to make a comment on any one of them.

"Judith Martha Wexler," Claire continued, "from Denton, Texas." She paused, reading from her ticket and license. "I guess she was gonna catch a connecting flight. Um... she wore corrective lenses, and she was an organ donor. Or, at least would have been." Everyone was listening solemnly. She handed Judith's papers off to Hurley, who in trade, handed her the wedding scrapbook she'd shown Clem earlier.

"Steve and Kristen," she began, a sad smile on her face. "I— I don't know their last name, but, uh... they were really in love and... were gonna be married. At least wherever they are now, uh, they're not alone." With a last, longer look at this book, she handed it to Hurley, who gave her another short stack of papers.

"Um, John Hartman was from Somerville, Massachusetts. There were pictures of young kids in his wallet, he, um, must have had children. A video store receipt lists, uh, overdue charges for Willy Wonka and The Little Princess. Looks like he, um, hadn't traveled much, as far as I can tell from his passport." Claire was quiet and respectful when speaking, and Clementine was glad it had been her leading it.

Clementine thought to herself. Maybe, just maybe, someone would see their big fire in the night, a satellite pointing the wrong way or another passenger plane flying over them seeing lights where they shouldn't be. Maybe someone would come, a boat, a helicopter, any kind of rescue. Their fire burned into the night, taking away the deceased passengers of Oceanic flight 815 along with it.

Chapter Text

[June, 2003]

"You really surprise me, Charlotte."

"You can call me Clementine, you know."

"I like Charlotte better."

Harry's voice was loud over the sounds of their airplane flying 12,000 feet high in the sky over the plains of Australia. The door was open, and they were both more than ready to jump, but something had held Harry back, and obviously, it had been Clementine. He was smiling at her— she could see his eyes through the goggles and knew he was trying to flirt, but all she wanted to do was jump.

"Are we ready or not?" she shouted to him.

Harry nodded, then gave a thumbs up to the pilot, who gave the same signal back. Then, he smiled at Clementine and headed out the door, spreading his arms and legs as he fell freely. Clementine followed shortly, smiling as she allowed herself to slip right out of the door.

She loved that feeling. The free fall made her feel light, and every thought seemed to escape her as she flew through the air. Even Harry had seemed to escape her mind, and she was alone, with no one but the sky and the air. After a few seconds, she opened her parachute, being jerked up in the wind, her speed slowing as she was now able to enjoy the vast Australian skies and plains peacefully.

Of course, all bliss comes to an end. After about 5 minute of her gentle fall through the sky, she landed on the ground, running a few steps before slowing to a stop, her parachute flared out on the ground behind her. Harry walked up to meet her, that very same smile from before on his face.

"You did amazingly," he said, taking off his helmet and running his fingers through his brown hair.

"Thank you," said Clementine. She didn't look at him, and instead examined her parachute to make sure the drag from running didn't rip anything.

"I'm really surprised you've been skydiving before."

"This was one of the better experiences I've had," said Clementine, turning to him. "I've never done it outside of America. Thanks, Harry. I really had a great time." She turned back and continued gathering her chute.

"If you wanted to continue that great time... I wouldn't mind," he said.

"What?" said Charlotte, looking up at him.  "Go again?" she asked.

He smiled, shaking his head.  "We could do something else.  There's this great restaurant in Sydney—"

Clementine looked back down.  She understood now.  That kind of great time. "Harry, we just met, and honestly—"

He cut her off.  "I really like you, Charlotte.  And honestly, we don't get a lot of women solo diving. You inspire me.  All I want is to take you out to dinner."

He sounded genuine— he was.  Charlotte sighed in acceptance, then said, "Alright."

"Amazing," said Harry, clapping his hands together.  "Come on, let's walk back to base."

— ◒ —

Somehow, Clementine was actually able to sleep late that morning, after a simple, peaceful night. They'd spent a good two hours there by the fire after sundown. She didn't know what time it was, and she hadn't for days now, but she knew how to tell the hours using the sun well enough. Only moments after she awoke, she heard shouting down the beach.  There was running, too, as the waves came back and forth and birds chattered in the air.

"Jack!" someone shouted, running the from opposite way.  She looked in the direction of the voice to see Charlie running towards the doctor, who stood when he saw him.  "There's someone out there!" he shouted.  "You gotta— the current!" He pointed out to the ocean again, and Clementine followed his gaze, seeing a figure out in the water. "There's someone out there, look!" Charlie continued loudly.  Clementine stood up, seeing someone splashing far out into the sea, shouting. 

She ran over to where Charlie was standing just as Jack pulled off his shirt as he sprinted toward the water.  He spared no time paying attention to the rest of Charlie's words as he ran into the water, swimming out into the currents.

Behind Clementine, other survivors began to gather, too. They watched silently as Jack swam out, then dove under the water twice before coming back up with someone in his arms. But there was someone else out there, further, still shouting, "Help!" Her voice was distant.

As Jack swam back up with who Charlotte could now see was Boone, she and Charlie rushed up to meet him, grabbing the winded Boone from Jack's arms. He put an arm around each of their shoulders as they walked him out of the water, stumbling. Jack turned around to go back into the water.

"Jack!" called Clementine, stopping their walk and looking back at him.

"There's someone else still out there!" he shouted back to her, over the sound of the crashing waves, then dove back into the water.

Clementine and Charlie walked Boone up the beach, back towards the rest of the group, as Jack swam as far out as he could. They placed Boone to rest on the sand and he laid his head back. Charlie and Clementine still turned to watch, but Jack was struggling now. He was further out than he had been when he found Boone, and they couldn't see the woman anymore. There was no more shouts of help. Everyone was silent, trying to listen for something, a voice, a splash, anything that signified she was still alive.

But after a few minutes of still being out there, Jack turned around and swam back, empty handed.

— ◒ —

Seaside was a gorgeous restaurant with a view of Sydney's coast. Clementine had arrived a few minutes early just to scope the place out, but when the hostess spoke to her, it seemed that Harry was already there at their table, 15 minutes before the time he'd told her.

The hostess walked her through the restaurant, decorated gorgeously with shiplap and paintings of sirens and all kinds of pearlescent lighting fixtures and decor. It was a seafood grill, and she had to admit, it looked incredibly expensive. She didn't know for sure, but she assumed that skydiving instructors made a lot of money. How else would Harry afford this?

He stood and smiled when he saw her, going around to the other side of the table and pulling out a chair. She had to admit— she had no interest in him originally, but his grand smile at the sight of her and his gentlemanliness had her warming up to him. He knew how to treat a girl, that was for sure.

He sat back down in front of her, still smiling.

"This is a gorgeous place, Harry," she said, looking around.

"Not as gorgeous as you," he replied. "That dress is amazing."

It wasn't anything special— she'd had it for years now, and she often wore it to dinners and dates. It was comfortable and elegant, so it was always the first thing she reached for.

"Thank you," said Clementine. "So..." she began, trying to think of something to spark up a conversation, "you were early."

"So were you," he remarked, tilting his head. His hair was much less messy than it had been when they'd finished their dive, and without the baggy skydiving suit, she could see underneath his polo shirt that he had an excellent build. His jacket was hanging on his chair behind him. A gentleman and good-looking? No need to look at the menu— Clementine's catch of the day was right here.

"I prefer it," he said. "I don't like the girl to get here before me. I need some time to pull out her chair, you know." The last word of his sentence curled into an "r" sound due to his accent, but she thought it was cute.

Clem chuckled. "Do you do this for everyone?"

"Hmm?" he asked, a little confused.

"Every girl that comes skydiving," she clarified. "You take them all out to dinner?"

Harry shook his head. "Just you."

"Well, I'm honored."

God, it was one of the most wonderful nights of Clementine's life. His smile and the way he seemed to easily make her laugh was just mesmerizing, and she let her guard down much quicker than she usually did at these kind of things. He was so oddly perfect.

As the gentleman he was, Harry paid the check, and put her jacket back over her shoulders when he stood up to leave. He did not kiss her, and didn't even try. "How long are you in Australia for?" he asked, as they walked back toward the entrance of the restaurant.

"Just another two days. I'm going diving tomorrow."

"You're quite the adventurer," he said, watching her grab a small box of matches from the glass jar they had sitting on the hostess table. "Barrier reef?"

"No," said Clementine. "I booked this trip on a whim.  I'm not certified yet, and there weren't any openings left with instructors.  It's just a smaller reef."

"Maybe after, if you wanted to get back together," he suggested, as they walked out the door.

Clementine looked at him and smiled.  "That would be really nice, Harry. I'd enjoy that."

"Good," he said with a smile, taking her hand into his. "I'm glad. I'll call you, alright? Where are you staying?"

"The Hyatt a little further into the city," she said. "Room 416."

"Perfect," he said. "We'll talk tomorrow." He brought his hand up and kissed it, looking up into her eyes the entire time. For the first time in a while, Clementine blushed.

He called her a taxi.

— ◒ —

Clementine and Kate sat on the sand, going through some of the last bags they'd pulled out of the fuselage before burning it, sorting out the clothes into two piles.  They didn't speak as they did so, sorting through things.  Both of them seemed to have other things on their mind.

A few minutes after they'd began, Claire walked up to where they were standing.  "Hey," she said, "you guys haven't found a hairbrush in there, have you?" She gestured to the bag they were sorting through, then pushed her hair behind her ear.

"No," said Kate.  "Sorry."

"God, I must have looked through twenty suitcases.  Can't find one. It's weird, right? I mean you'd think that everyone packs a hairbrush—" Claire cut herself off, losing her balance.  She stumbled a little, placing one hand on the sand and the other on her forehead.

"Whoa," said Clementine, quickly placing down the clothing and putting a hand on Claire's shoulder. Kate looked alarmed, too.  "You alright?" Clem asked her.

"Yeah," said Claire, taking a seat beside Kate.  "It's just the heat." She looked down.  "Oh," she said. "And I'm pregnant." Kate handed her a bottle of water, and she took it.

Kate chuckled.  "Really?" she asked sarcastically.

Claire smiled.  There was another moment of silence as Kate and Clementine both resumed sorting through clothes. "What are you doing?" asked the blonde.

"We're sorting the practical clothes from the impractical," Kate answered, holding up a lacy nightgown, then placing it in the impractical pile.  "Want to help?"

"Sure," said Claire, adjusting herself.  She took a sip from the bottle of water, then put it down in the sand beside her.  Claire picked up a beige bucket hat, looked at it for a second, then placed it on her head.  "Can I... Can I ask you something?" she said to Kate.

"Sure. Shoot," said Kate, placing a pair of camo cargo pants into the practical pile.

"Are you a Gemini?"

Clementine and Kate both smiled.  "Yeah, I am," she said, chuckling.

"I thought so!" said Claire, a big smile gracing her face.  She slapped a hand down on the pile. "Restless, passionate," she listed. She turned to Clementine, who waited for her turn to be profiled as she continued folding clothes.  Claire bit her fingernail in thought, and Clementine looked up at her, brows raised.  "No, don't tell me," said Claire.  "Aries?"

Clem nodded. 

"Ah, yes!" said Claire, which made Clem smile.  "I mean, everyone thinks astrology is just a load of crap, but that's just because they don't get it."  Kate and Clementine continued sorting through clothes.  "I could do your charts if you want," she offered.

Clementine wasn't all that into astrology, and Kate didn't seem to be, either, because she looked up at Claire with brows raised, as if saying, "Now is not really the time."

"Or not," shrugged Claire, picking up a piece of clothing from the pile and taking a look at it. "Geminis," she muttered.  The three of them laughed.

— ◒ —

The second date with Harry was just as wonderful as the first. He even saw her off at the airport. They saved each others home numbers and called often, even with the extra costs of the overseas connection. Clementine had never liked anyone as much as she liked Harry.

They'd kissed each other for the first time when he left her at the airport. He promised to send her letters, and she promised to come back, if not for him, then for the skydiving. The skydiving was just an added bonus.

Clementine did go back to Australia. Her trip when meeting Harry was only her second time there, but she went back again and again after that. She stopped spending her money on jumps and hikes and expeditions, fixes for her adrenaline addiction, and saved that money for flights to Australia. He'd even come to visit her in California a few times. He'd taken her in a hot air balloon once— that night, he went home with her for the first time.

Of course, every time she went to Australia, they did a dive together. Harry was wonderful, yes, but she wasn't sure she loved him yet— however, she knew she'd never fall out of love with that free fall.

She was comfortable. And she was happy. She'd been with him for more than a year now, and after coming back from her 6th visit to Australia, she laid in bed one night, and realized that. She could see a future with Harry. Yes, two little kids with Australian accents just like his in a white Pickett fence yard, doing flips on a trampoline. She was smiling. Harry was smiling. A real, simple, future. She'd never been able to have hope for that before.

That was when Harry began to scare her a little.

A few weeks went by. Clementine worked for the majority of her week, and all her vacation days or long weekends were spent with Harry. She visited again sooner than later, and he picked her up from the airport holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The sun was setting, and the orange light on his face made him look so much more perfect than he already was. She couldn't help but smile when she saw him.

"Hello, gorgeous," he said, as she stepped into the passenger seat of his car.

"Harry," she said, as he handed her the flowers. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

"Of course," he said, then gave her a quick kiss.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?"

Harry smiled as he left the airport, driving away from the building. "You still have that dress you wore on our first date?"

"You know I don't leave home without it," she said. They were on their way to his apartment— 8 months into the relationship, they'd stopped spending on hotels, and instead began staying with each other.

"Good," he said. "I have a surprise for you."

They got back to his apartment and she quickly got settled, then they both got dressed and ready for that night. She'd had a sneaking suspicion, and it turned out she was right— he was taking her back to Seaside. And as a favor from the host that night, they were sitting at the very same table they'd sat at on their first date last June. It was September now, getting a little warmer down under, but not sweltering just yet. It was nice. All of it was.

They talked, told stories, laughed— the night was nearly as perfect as that very first date. They ordered a desert to share, a perfect, petite lava cake with a side of vanilla ice cream. They thanked the waitress when she brought it, immediately digging in.

"You are so beautiful, Charlotte."

She'd had food in her mouth, and quickly chewed and swallowed, laughing a little. "I should count the times you tell me that."

"I'd probably break a hundred every trip."

"Easily," said Clementine.

Clem looked into Harry's soft brown eyes for a second before he spoke up again. "I mean it every time, you know," he said, taking her hand from across the table. "You're beautiful, kindhearted, and—my favorite— an adrenaline junkie." Clem chuckled a little. "I know... we've been taking things slow. But..." He paused for a moment, looked down at their half eaten lava cake, then back up at Clementine. She was intrigued. "I love you, Charlotte. I know that for sure."

— ◒ —

"Hey, hey!" called a voice from behind her. Clementine was placing the impractical clothes into a suitcase, while Kate, sitting nearby, folded the practical ones neatly and placed them into another. She turned her head to find Walt running toward her.

"What's up?" she said.

"That pregnant lady fell down," said Walt urgently, pointing up the beach. Clem and Kate both followed his finger to see Charlie and Michael looking over her, scooping her up. She was unconscious. Both of them immediately stood up and ran toward her, leaving their tasks behind.

They ran up the beach just past the engine, where Michael and Charlie were carrying her toward Jack's tent, where they kept all the medical supplies. "What happened?" asked Kate, looking over the unconscious blonde.

"She just dropped," said Charlie.

"It must be the heat," said Clementine.

"Is she breathing?" Kate asked.

"I think," said Charlie.

"Let's get her inside," said Kate. She led the group up to the tent. Clementine followed behind them. They got into the tent and laid her on a towel on the sand.  Michael undid her shoes to try and make her more comfortable, try and release the heat.

"Claire," said Clementine, kneeling beside her.  "Come on, Claire, wake up."  She shook her shoulder softly, hoping to carefully jostle her awake. Nothing.  Clem took her face and turned it to the side.  "Claire, can you hear me?" she said, worry lacing her tone. "Claire?" She pushed her hair out of her face and softly patted her cheek.  "Come on, Claire, wake up," she said.  Her voice was urgent but low.  She didn't want to alarm her. "Claire, please," said Clem. Finally, the woman's face turned on its own, and her eyes slowly blinked open.  Clementine let out a sigh of relief. "Can you hear me, Claire? It's Charlotte. It's Clementine."

"What..." Claire said softly, looking up at Clementine. 

"You passed out," she said, still kneeling over her. "Just take it easy, okay?"

"She needs water," Kate said, then looked at Charlie.

"Water," he said breathily with a nod, and he and Kate both got up and went toward the other side of the tent.

Clementine put a hand on Claire's forehead.  "She's burning up," she said.  "You're really hot. Claire, I think you might have a fever.  You need to stay still, okay?" Claire could still barely keep her eyes open.  The fact they weren't really inside wasn't helping.  There was no drafts, and no shade, either— the sun was high in the sky, shedding its light and heat on everything below. "It's okay," she said to Claire, who she wasn't even sure was listening.  "Just rest."

"What the..." said Charlie, after he and Kate had rustled through every crate and box in the tent.  "The water's gone."

"What?" said Clem, looking up at them, one hand on Claire's head.

"Someone stole it."

Clementine thought for a second.  "Ask around," she said to the three of them.  Maybe someone moved it.  Maybe... I don't know." Her breathing was deep and heavy.

"We need Jack," said Kate.

Clementine nodded, and Kate, Michael, and Charlie left the tent.

— ◒ —

Clementine's mouth was left open in shock. He loved her? Now she had to think— what should she say? Did she love him? She couldn't lie. She'd never thought about it. And that future, that perfect future with him that she had imagined... she didn't want that. She knew that for sure. Now, he really scared her. She slipped her hand back onto her lap, away from his.

"Harry, I—"

"You don't have to say it back if you're not ready yet," he assured her. "I took my time. I want you to take yours."

"I just don't know if I'm ready for that yet," she said. It had been more than a year, yes, but Clementine had never been in a relationship this long. And never with someone whose flaws she simply couldn't find. He bit his nails sometimes, maybe. But now, he scared her.

"That's okay," he said, nodding. "But know that I love you, alright? I do."

Clem bit her lip. "Thank you," she said , " f or... understanding."

The rest of the night was... well, awkward, to say the least. They didn't speak on the ride home.  She decided to sleep on his couch that night, instead of in his bed like they did most of the time.  She said she needed to just think for a little bit, alone.  He was understanding, just like he always was, and set up the room for her.

Clementine didn't sleep that night.  She tossed and turned thinking about Harry, her past with him, her future.  Did she want that future? She felt like she didn't know anything.  Like she didn't deserve it. 

When she finally did get to sleep, she dreamed she was standing at an altar just beside him.  He was smiling so big, just staring at her eyes.  But she began to tear up, her vision clouding.  She didn't smile once. "I can't do this," she said, and walked off the altar.

"Charlotte, stop," his voice had said to her.  She turned around, but his face in her dream was blurry.  She didn't know if it was the tears or the dreamy haze. "Why?" he asked her, as she stood there.  Her white dress became stained with dirt and was tearing on her shoes.  She tried to back away, but suddenly, she was locked in a cell, but Harry was still standing there at the altar, waiting in his tuxedo. The cell moved closer to him, and closer still, until they were so close to each other. 

Rain began to fall from the sky, but Harry was still in his tuxedo, completely dry.  They were in the jungle now, and while his face and body was still Harry's, his voice was different.  Younger.  Her sister. "Stay with me, Clementine." 

Clem woke up with a gasp.

That was when she decided that she couldn't have him anymore.  He was too much.

Quietly, Clementine packed her things. She wrote Harry a short note, and left it on his bedside table. With a kiss to the forehead, she was gone. And she couldn't see him again.

Charlotte took a taxi to the airport and took the first flight available back to LAX, number 815, leaving Harry and all the things in Australia she didn't deserve behind her. She planned to change her phone number, switch jobs, maybe move to a new apartment. She didn't want him to find her. Being the person that he was, he probably wouldn't look. He'd respect what she said in the letter. He'd let her go home and not come back.

Clementine didn't even get to make it home.

— ◒ —

Without water to keep her hydrated, cool, and awake, Claire fell back asleep. Clementine sat in the tent and just stayed beside her, checking her fever every once in a while, bouncing her leg, wishing for a cigarette. Sure, she could ask Sawyer, but she was watching over Claire, and she didn't want the fumes to get to her and make things worse.

Jack was nowhere to be found. No one knew where he went, and the last person who'd seen him was Boone. He'd run into the jungle and hadn't come back out, and no one knew why. Without the doctor, Kate and Sayid seemed to take charge. Locke went out into the jungle, hoping to find some source of fresh water nearby. It hadn't rained in 3 days, and this afternoon's sky was clear. There had been 18 bottles left this morning, according to Charlie. And now, nothing.

After a few hours, Charlie came back with a coffee pot half full with water. He knelt down beside Claire, saying, "Hey," softly. She slowly blinked awake at the sound of his voice.

"Hey," she said back, taking in her surroundings and only just realizing where she was. "How long have I—"

"A couple of hours," said Charlie. "Here." He offered her the water, and she took it, drinking it in a single sip. "It's not much, but it's what we have." She gave the cup back to him, empty. "Just relax," he said. "You have to think about the little one now." He smiled at her.

"Thanks for the water, Charlie," she said to him. Charlie stood up.

"Where'd you get it?" asked Clementine, looking up at him from a corner of the tent, across from where Claire was laying.

"Some last sips left in a few people's bottles. They gave it up for her." He looked over to where the suitcase of water should be sitting. 'There'd be more if some git hadn't nicked it." He looked upset. Maybe a little angry.

"Is Jack back yet?" asked Clementine.

"No," said Charlie, shaking his head. "No one's seen him."

Claire's lips closed and she looked down. Charlie glanced at her worried expression and sat next to her again. "But I wouldn't worry," he assured her, the smile coming back onto his face. "Good ol' Mr. Locke's gone into the jungle to get some water for you."

"Great," said Claire, "our only hunter's gonna get eaten just so he can get the pregnant girl some more water."

"I wouldn't worry, love," said Charlie, playing with the tape on his fingers, "I mean, you tell me, who would you rather meet in a dark alley— whatever's out there, or that geezer with his 400 knives?"

Claire smiled. "I mean, who packs 400 knives?" Charlie continued, knowing his jokes were cheering her up. "Personally, I can only have space for 200. Three hundred, at most."

They both laughed, and their happiness made Clem smile, too. She stood up. "I'm going to leave you guys to it," she said, walking over to them. She put a hand on Charlie's shoulder and he smiled and nodded to her. "Let me know if anyone needs anything," she said, looking at Claire now. She nodded.

Clem looked down the beach to see Kate and Sayid conversing at the edge of the jungle. She jogged up to them, and they turned to her. "What's going on?" she asked.

"The Koreans had water," Kate explained.

"What? All of it?"

Sayid shook his head. "Just a bottle. Empty."

"Well where'd they get it?"

"I'll give you one guess," said Kate, crossing her arms.

Clementine didn't have to think for very long. "Sawyer," she said, looking down. "But why?"

"Why does Sawyer do anything?" said Sayid, raising his brows.

"He just went into the jungle," said Kate, nodding toward the trees. "We waited to find his stash."

Clementine looked into the trees, seeing his silhouette heading through the brush. Her expression hardened. "Good," she said, and before they could say another word to her, she rushed inside.

Her eyes quickly adjusted to the shade. She moved past ferns and ducked beside vines, keeping her steps fast and light as she followed the sound of Sawyer rustling through his stash of things. She stopped when she saw him kneel in front of a towel on the ground, look to his left and right, then peel away the cover, revealing a suitcase underneath. Inside it was all sorts of stashed items, airplane bottles of liquor, cigarettes, magazines.

She stepped forward, hoping to take him when he wasn't expecting it, but she must have made a noise, because he whipped his head around. She listened to her first instinct, jumping on Sawyer, pinning him onto the ground. She held down his wrists, gritting her teeth and glaring.

"Well it's about time," he said, the smile on his face growing.

"For what?" she snapped.

"I made this birthday wish four years ago," he said.

"Where's the water?" she said, nearly spitting in his face. Suddenly, he grabbed her wrists back, rolling over and putting her in the position he was in only a second ago. Unfortunately, he was stronger than her, and her efforts to move were fruitless. Both of them were breathing heavily now, Clem glaring, Sawyer smirking.

"This is better," he said cockily.

"Get off of me," she demanded. Before he could say another word, he was pulled off of her. Sayid had taken him by the shoulders, pulling him aside. He pushed him away, giving room for Clementine to stand. Kate was standing a couple feet away, arms crossed.

"Give us the water now!" Sayid yelled.

Sawyer pushed him. "Yeah, touch me again, huh?" he said. "You really think I stole your damn water?"

Clem knelt down and and went through the suitcase on the ground. Tons of bottles, yes, but alcohol, not water. "We know you gave two bottles to the Koreans," Sayid argued. Clem opened the second, smaller suitcase, but again, no water. Not even a trace.

"I don't give nothing to nobody," Sawyer said.

Clementine stood up. "It's not here."

Sayid turned to her as Sawyer continued. "I traded Mr. Miyagi the last of my water for a fish he caught. We worked it out caveman-style."

"You gave him your last two bottles?" said Kate, raising her brows.

"Water has no value, Freckles," he said to her. "It's gonna rain sooner or later. And, hell, I'm an optimist."

He walked past Sayid toward his suitcases, but not before giving Clementine one last look. She simply thinned her eyes at him, keeping her arms crossed. Sayid looked back at her just as Sawyer knelt back down by his bags. The three of them headed out of the jungle, leaving their mystery still unsolved.

As night fell upon them, her anxieties overwhelmed her, leaving her sitting by the big fire next to Shannon. Would Locke come back with water? And who knows when it would rain again. Would Claire be okay? And Sawyer... God, Sawyer. He takes and he takes, and never feels any need to give. And the worst part? She still owed him. She wanted a cigarette badly, her body itching for the tobacco and nicotine, but she didn't dare go and ask him.

"You're bouncing your leg again, Clementine," Shannon reminded her. She was trying to eat.

Clem put her hands on her lap. "Sorry."

When she heard yelling coming from up the beach, she looked in that direction to see a few people gathering by Jack's tent. Charlie was there, and he had someone on the ground. Clementine looked at Shannon, then walked up the sand to see Charlie, angry, glaring at Boone. "Why'd you do it, pretty boy, eh?" Charlie asked, giving him a push. Boone backed away.

"It was just sitting..." he stuttered. "It was just sitting in the tent. And Jack just took off!"

"Claire could've died!"

"I tried to give her some sooner," Boone explained desperately, "but it just— it got out of hand, no one would have understood!"

"What is going on?" asked Kate loudly, walking up to the two of them with Sayid.

"Someone had to take responsibility, forty would have never lasted—!" Boone was yelling now, but he was cut off by Charlie pushing him to the ground. Sayid held the Brit back as they heard another voice, further from the rest.

"Leave him alone!"

It was Jack.

Everyone stared at him.  Where had he been?  Why hadn't he been leading them?  The silence was near deafening as they waited for Jack to say something, anything. 

"It's been six days," he began, after a few moments of silence from the group, "and we're all still waiting. Waiting for someone to come. But what if they don't?" He stepped down from the piece of wreckage he was standing on, down into the center of the group. "We have to stop waiting," he continued. "We need to start figuring things out. A woman died this morning just going for a swim." He gestured to Boone. "And he tried to save her, and now you're about to crucify him? We can't do this. Every man for himself is not gonna work. It's time to start organizing. We need to figure out how we're gonna survive here." He took a deep breath. "Now, I found water. Fresh water, up in the valley. I'll take a group in at first light. If you don't wanna come, then find another way to contribute." He looked around at them all. Everyone listened.

"Last week, most of us were strangers," he continued. "But we're all here now. And God knows how long we're gonna be here. But if we can't live together... we're gonna die alone."

Chapter Text

The sun was high in the sky up above, burning Clementine's skin even when she had her legs in the water. It would pull away, and she'd be sweating again, but come back and douse her legs with cold, salty water.  She liked sitting on the sand there— the contrast of the cold with the warm air was a sort of rush.  It didn't exactly fill the place of a cigarette, but it did the job for now.

She'd considered going into Sawyer's stash a few times now that she knew where it was, but he was too much of a hoarder to not notice when something was missing.  Plus, they seemed to be the only two smokers on the island— he'd know instantly it was her.  She regretted not taking a few for the road when they were on better terms.

Kate, Jack, Locke, and Charlie had gone into the jungle at first light with the water bottles, heading into the valley to fill them up for the survivors. They'd been gone for a good hour or so now, but Clem wasn't worried— from what she could see from the mountain in the distance, the valley that housed the cave was quite a long hike away. She was getting pretty thirsty, though, especially after staring at the ocean for so long.

Incoherent shouting down the beach interrupted her thoughts, and she looked in the direction of the noise, seeing the Korean man in a fight with Michael— though it was more of a beating.  He had Michael at the edge of the water, punching and dousing him underneath the waves.  His wife pleaded with him in Korean to stop, the panicked look on her face slowly turning into tears.  Walt, too, begged him to stop, loudly, as the Korean woman's screams became deafening.  Clementine rushed over to the action as Sawyer and Sayid rushed in.  Sayid grabbed the Korean man while Sawyer threw Michael over his shoulders.  Sayid and the Korean struggled.

"The handcuffs! From the sky Marshal!" Sayid demanded, calling out to Sawyer. "Now!"

Sawyer reached into his pocket, then stumbled toward Sayid with Michael still in one arm. Sayid took the cuffs. Sawyer laid Michael on the sand and they both took the Korean man into custody, dragging him up the beach.  Hurley rushed to Michael's aid while Sawyer and Sayid took the Korean man up the beach and handcuffed him to the wheels from the plane wreckage.

Michael was able to stand on his own now, his son keeping one hand on his shoulder as he panted.  His clothes were all wet and he was covered in sand from the fight. The Korean man's wife simply stood there.  She looked confused, and yet, as if she were about to cry.

"What happened?" Sayid asked her, simply.  Clementine didn't think she would understand, no matter how many times he asked. She said nothing, and Sayid turned to Michael.

"He just jumped me, man," said Michael.  "We were just walking." He looked down at Walt, who nodded.

"There has to be something," said Clementine. "Anything you did, even if it wasn't your fault.  Some sort of misunderstanding."

"Listen.  I don't know what this guy thinks I did to him"— he gestured to the Korean man— "but I was just walking."

Sayid chimed in again. "It doesn't make sense for him to just jump on you."

"I am getting tired of saying this," said Michael, staring knives at Sayid, "I was just walking the beach with my son, and all of a sudden, this dude is all up on me! I didn't do anything," he insisted.

The Korean man shouted something at him in his language.

"Surely, there must be something you're not telling us," said Sayid.

"Surely?" repeated Michael, raising his brows in contest. "Where are you from, man?"

"Tikrit," Sayid answered, but Michael didn't seem to know where that was. "Iraq," Sayid finished.

"Okay, I don't know how it is in Iraq," began Michael, frustrated, "but in the United States of America, where I'm from, Korean people don't like black people." He pointed at the Korean man. "Did you know that?" 

Sayid shook his head.  Once again, the Korean man yelled angrily.

"So maybe you ought to talk to him!" Michael shouted, pointing accusatorially at the Korean.

His wife tried to calmly explain something to them, standing by his side and pointing at her own wrist.

"The cuffs stay on," said Sayid firmly.

"Little louder, Omar, maybe then she'll understand you," Sawyer commented.  Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"Guys, that Chinese dude's gonna get pretty crispy out here," said Hurley, walking up to them. "How long are you gonna keep him tied down like that?"

"He tried to kill Michael," said Sayid. He got louder. "We all saw it.  The cuffs stay on until we know why." 

Sayid walked away, and after a moment, Michael followed him, telling his son, "Come on, man. Let's go." Everyone dispersed, leaving the man and wife together by the wheel of the plane.

— ◒ —

Later in the afternoon, Jack and Kate came by, finding Clementine and Shannon resting in the sun by the water. Though Shannon planned to tan (which she's been doing quite a bit lately, but what else was there to do) Clem was just there to keep her company. She'd fallen asleep after their chatter had stopped.

"Hey, Shannon. Clementine," said a voice. Clementine blinked out of her light sleep and sat up, seeing Jack standing above them.

"Hey, Jack," she greeted, rubbing her eyes.

"Sorry to wake you up," he said, kneeling next to her.

"That's okay," said Clem, waving her hand once dismissively. "What's up?"

"Well, I mean, Kate and I were thinking," he began.

"What is it with you and Kate?" Shannon quickly added, during his short pause.

Clementine turned to her, shaking her head.

"Sorry," she said with a huff. "Continue."

"Well, anyway," Jack said, smiling a little, "We went up to the caves, and up there there's shade, clean water, and the draft keeps it cool. It's safe from animals and all that. We were thinking about moving the group up there."

"What, off the beach?" asked Clementine.

"They can't see us from the valley," said Shannon. Clementine had to give it to her— she wasn't getting rid of her hope of rescue so easily.  It had been a week already, but Shannon had no doubts they would be coming.

"No..." said Jack, looking down. "But it's safe. And it's best for survival, honestly. Locke's staying up there. Charlie's staying. I've got a few others who are coming."

"I don't know, Jack," said Clementine.

"You don't have to decide now," he said, standing. "We're leaving in a little while. Let me know, alright?"

Clementine nodded. "Thanks, Jack," said Shannon, wiping hair away from her face. He gave them both a smile, then walked away.  The two girls looked at each other immediately, waiting for him to take a couple more steps away before discussing anything. When they finally couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, Shannon spoke up.

"If a rescue boat comes," she began, "or a plane, or a helicopter... I am not missing it."

Clem nodded in agreement. "It's safe," she said, "but too secluded. You're right.  If something comes, you and me, we're gonna be the first ones on it."

"I mean, it's like he's settling into the island," said Shannon, lying back down and closing her eyes.  "I'm not making this place my home. He doesn't think we'll get rescued?"

"He's just surviving," said Clementine. "I just think the beach is... I don't know. It's familiar.  I'm staying."

"Good," said Shannon.  "We can stay together."

— ◒ —

"Hey, Sawyer?"

Clementine thinned her eyes at her friend after she'd called him over, but Shannon didn't seem to even look at her.  Sawyer turned around with a smile.

"Hey, ladies."

It was night now, and the big signal fire was burning.  At least 15 people had accompanied Jack up to the caves, hoping for a little more shelter. Oddly, however, Kate had decided to stay. Clem and Shannon had just finished their dinner, the usual combo of boar meat and bananas that Kate had recently found were growing in a few trees in the jungle.

"What can I do you for?"

"No one I ask knows anything," began Shannon. "That Korean guy left with them to the caves. Why'd they let him go? Why'd he beat up Michael."

Shannon was right— she and Clementine had asked a few people, and none of them knew the answer. If anyone could tell them anything, it would be Sawyer.

"Well, word on the street is that Bruce Lee just wanted his watch."

Shannon and Clementine both scrunched their brows, glancing at each other, then back at the blond in front of them. "He beat Michael up over a watch?" Shannon said doubtedly.

Sawyer shrugged. "Michael gave it back, and the whole situation is settled."

"A watch," repeated Clementine, still unsure.

"I'm just the messenger," he said putting both his hands up defensively.

The rest of the night was silent. Calm. The beach and their signal fire had a lot less people around it than usual, and honestly, the most useful people seemed to stay up at the caves. Their doctor, their hunter... sure, it wasn't much of a walk to the valley, but still. They'd divided themselves, even though Jack had told them they had to stick together.

It didn't matter, though. The second a boat comes by, they'd see it first. If anyone found them at all.

Chapter Text

"Three antennae. Three points of a triangle. One here on the beach, another, Kate will position in the jungle, roughly two kilometers in. And the third, I'll take to high ground up there."

After planting the straight piece of steel with wires and plastic at the top into the ground, Sayid pointed up the beach toward the hills and the valleys. Kate, Boone, and Clementine listened intently to his plan to triangulate the French woman's signal and find its source. Clementine had high hopes— Sayid had been a communications officer in the military, and he wasn't exactly U.S. Army, his knowledge helped the survivors greatly.

"If the French transmission is coming from somewhere within our triangulation," he continued, making a triangle shape with his hands, "I'll be able to locate the source. But there are two complications."

"Of course there are," said Boone.

"The power cells I've grafted onto the antennas are dry," he explained, taking a glance up at his contraption at the top of the steel stick. "There's no telling how long they'll last. A minute. Maybe more, maybe less."

"So we have to wait 'til we're in position before we switch them on," said Kate understandingly.

"Well, wait, wait a second," said Clementine. "How will we know if we're all in position?"

Boone nodded, agreeing. "We have no way to communicate with each other."

Sayid turned around and grabbed something from the bag on the ground behind him. He stood up straight and presented three bottle rockets, ready to be lit.

"Bottle rockets?" Kate said, raising a brow, as if to ask, "Where'd you get those?"

"Thank God for fireworks smugglers," said Sayid, handing Boone and Kate each a bottle rocket. Clementine didn't need to be there, but she wanted to accompany Kate just to try and be of some help. Besides, two is always better than one, especially venturing out into that jungle. Really, Clementine was just itching to do something.

"Now, when I'm in position, I'll fire off my rocket," said Sayid. "When you all see it, you fire yours. As soon as the last one has gone up, we'll all switch on our antennas."

"Okay, but you said there are two complications," said Kate.

"The battery in the transceiver's dead," said Sayid. "Without the transceiver, all of this is for nothing. Something from a laptop computer would probably work, but I've not been able to find anything." He shook his head.

"I think I might know where to look," said Clementine, as Sayid and Boone faced her, intrigued. Only Kate seemed to know what she was thinking.

— ◒ —

"Oh come on," said Clementine, crossing her arms, "you've been hoarding like a pack rat since the crash and you don't have a single laptop?"

The blond smiled at her, his blue eyes glimmering in the light. He'd taken Jack's old quarters up the beach, and was sitting in one of the chairs from the airplane— first class cushioning, by the look of them. He had a book open in his hands.

"Testy," said Sawyer. "I like that."

"Oh please," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've got to have something."

"Say I did," he said. "What do you have for me?"

Clementine huffed, wiping her hair away from her face. The breeze was light, but it felt nice. "It must be exhausting," she said to him, shaking her head.

"What's that?" he said, tilting his head. The sun glinted off his dirty blond locks.

"Living like a parasite," she said simply. "Always taking, never giving."

His smile did not fade. He leaned forward, further into the morning light. "Boy, you got me pegged, don't you?" he said.

"I get it now," Clementine said, crossing her arms again and tilting her head. All she wanted was to take that stupid smile off his face. "You don't want off this island because there's nothing for you to go back for. Nobody you miss. And no one misses you."

Even though he wasn't smirking anymore, the ends of his lips were still curled up in that damn smile. "Oh, you're feeling sorry for me," he said, raising his brows.

Clementine shook her head. "I don't feel sorry for you. I pity you."

Sawyer looked up at her for a moment. And then he chuckled. He leaned over, opened a suitcase, and pulled a laptop out of it, slipping the long battery out of the back compartment, sighing. He held it up. "All you had to do was say please."

Even if he didn't show it, his giving into her ask was just enough to let her know that her words had punctured something in that over inflated ego of his. He held it out to her, and she went to grab it, but he lifted it from her hands, raising his brows and smiling. She did not smile back, instead, giving him a look that said, "Are you a child?"

He held it out again, and she took it this time, and without another word, left.

Why was she still upset at him after all this time?  He didn't take the water, sure, but he didn't do anything right, either. She was trying to just distance herself from him a little, maybe fit in a little more around here.  She couldn't do anything good if she was just sitting around with Sawyer all the time, giving in to her little nicotine addiction.  She only craved cigarettes when her anxiety was acting up, but on this island, that seemed to be all the time.  He never seemed to want to do anything for anyone else, and she still owed him. 

Kate, Clem, and Sayid set off into the jungle after he hooked the battery up to the transceiver, which wasn't a strenuous job. 

"What we're doing," Kate began, as they trekked through the long grasses, weeds, and tall trees, all illuminated by the bright noon sun, "chasing some phantom distress signal... what are the odds of this working?"

"No worse than the odds of us surviving that plane crash," Sayid said.

"People survive plane crashes all the time," said Kate.

Sayid shook his head.  "Not like this one." He stopped walking and faced Kate. "The tail section broke off while we were still in the air.  Our section cartwheeled through the jungle, and yet we escaped with nothing but a few scrapes. How do you explain that?"

Kate thought for a second— but she knew he was right.  "Blind, dumb luck?" she guessed.

"No one's that lucky," Sayid said.  "We shouldn't have survived."

"Sorry, Sayid, but some things just happen," she said, as they began walking again. "No rhyme, no reason."

"Maybe there was a reason," said Clementine, looking down at her feet as they trekked through broken twigs, low vines, and other tripping hazards. "Maybe it's some kind of test for us."

Sayid exhaled sharply from his nose.  "From who?"

Clementine looked at him, a blank stare that told him, I don't even know.

— ◒ —

About 20 minutes into their trek, there was a rustling in the bushes nearby, and Sawyer emerged from between the flora and fauna. Clementine was pretty surprised to see him— but it seemed Kate and Sayid were, too. They stopped walking, Kate crossing her arms and Sayid leaned on one of the trees beside him.

"Hey," he said.

"What are you doing here?" said Clementine.  She hadn't meant to sound as pissed off as she did, but her words had just come out like that.

"Easy," he said to her, scrunching his brows. "I just came to tell you something."

Clem tilted her head.  "And what's that?" Again, she'd snapped.  Whatever softness or caring tone she'd wanted to talk to him with hadn't shown itself— but it hid especially with other people around.  Sawyer wasn't exactly Mr. Popular around here, and she assumed anyone who associated themselves with him a little too often wouldn't be too well liked, either.

Sawyer looked at her for a second, maybe searching for a reason in her harsh tone.  After a moment of waiting for his answer, he exhaled, then pressed his tongue to the side of his mouth. "Just came to tell you, you were right 'bout me," he said, "that I don't help anyone but myself.  Well, here I am, ready to pitch in."

Sayid looked at Clementine, unsure. "You're here to help?" said Kate, scrunching her brows.  The three of them walked past him. 

He scoffed, then followed.  "Hey, you act any more surprised, I'm gonna get offended."

After another mile or so of walking through the jungle, they emerged at a clearing, littered with grasses and wildflowers, and a clear view of the mountains surrounding them and the blue sky above. "We'll place the second antenna here," said Sayid, taking his backpack off and placing it on the ground. He looked at Sawyer. "You want to help?"

Sawyer nodded. Kate handed Sayid the contraption from the antenna.  He handed it over to Sawyer, saying, "Attach this antenna up in that tree." He pointed toward a lush, green tree to Clem's left. "As high up as you can."

"Golly, thanks, boss," said Sawyer sarcastically.  He walked over to the tree.

Sayid knelt down by his bag. He looked up at Kate and Clementine. "Five o'clock," he assured them. "Watch for my flare. Then it's your turn." They both nodded. His voice became a little quieter. "I don't trust him."

Kate chuckled a little. "Who does?"

Sayid looked at Clementine. "I don't trust him with you," he said.

Clem smiled. "I can handle him," she said.  "Besides, I've got Kate."

Sayid smiled and nodded, then walked off toward higher ground. Kate and Charlotte turned around and watched Sawyer carefully secure the antenna in the tree.

— ◒ —

While Sawyer and Clementine sat across from each other near the tree, Kate stood restless, bouncing the bottle rocket in her hand. She checked her watch again. Clementine sighed quietly and shook her head, then turned her head around— her back was facing the brunette. Sawyer, on the other hand, continued looking right at her.

"Still ain't five, just like the last time you checked your watch," said Sawyer, throwing a piece of grass he'd picked from the ground.

"I just don't want to miss Sayid's signal," said Kate, not looking at him. "Remember, I'll fire the flame, and one of you set off the antenna."

"I just thank the good Lord I got you here to keep reminding me," said Sawyer cockily, a smile resting easy on his face.

"It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it," said Kate, looking at him.

"Relax, Kate," said Clementine. "The flare's gonna be a spectacle, and there's three of us. No one's missing anything." Kate wandered over to where they were sitting, taking a seat on the log Clem was sitting on.

"So," began Sawyer, as she sat down, "what is it about that guy?" Kate scrunched her brows at him. "Jack," he said. "What is it about him makes you all... weak in the loins?"

"Sawyer," Clementine said, her tone scolding and condescending.

"Do you try to be a pig, or does it just come naturally?" asked Kate, tilting her head.

Sawyer chuckled wryly. He looked at the blade of grass in his hands, then back up at Kate. "It's that he's a doctor, right?" Sawyer said. Kate smiled, shaking her head. "Yeah, the ladies dig the doctors. Hell, give me a couple 'o Band-Aids, a bottle of peroxide, I could run this island too."

Clementine and Kate both looked at him with an identical raised-brow expression. Sawyer running this place? Yeah, Clem could picture it now. He had a throne made out of sticks and scrap metal, and everything was on fire. No one was happy.

"You're actually comparing yourself to Jack?" said Kate.

"The difference between us ain't that big, Freckles." He looked down again. "I guarantee you, if he had survived a few more weeks on this island, you'd have figured that out."

Survived a few more weeks?

Clementine and Kate scrunched their brows, staring him down. "What did you just say?" asked Kate. Slowly, Sawyer looked up, his expression blank, then to the side.

"Ah, damn." He clapped, then turned back, looking Kate right in the eyes. "Didn't I tell you? Word from the valley is Saint Jack got himself buried in a cave-in."

Clementine glared, and Kate's look of anger and worry overwhelmed her features as they stood. "What?" the two women chorused. Kate stood up.

"Look on the bright side," said Sawyer, his brows twitching up once. He looked at Clementine. "Now you have someone else to pity."

Kate glanced at Clementine. "Go," Clem told her with a nod. After throwing the bottle rocket at Sawyer and grabbing her pack, she ran off toward the caves.

They watched her go for a second, but Sawyer and Clementine's gazes slowly found each other. Clementine's lips were parted, her teeth grit.

"You knew the whole time," she said to him. "And you didn't tell her."

"Oh, come on, can you blame me?"

"You asshole," said Clementine, picking up the bottle rocket.

"At least we get to spend hang around together, hm?" he put a hand on her knee, but she pulled it away the moment she felt his touch, standing.

"Don't touch me," she said.

Sawyer pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and sighed. There was a few seconds of beautiful silence before he spoke up again. Even though she was turned around now, Clementine could hear that stupid smile of his in his voice. "We don't spend time together no more, Miss Sunshine. You miss me at all?"

Clementine rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Surely you miss the cigarettes, then?"

Finally, she turned around, finding that smirk on his lips, just like she'd thought. "You don't know me."

"Sure I do," he said, nodding. "I know the reason you haven't been hanging around me is because I might give you a bad rep. And we can't have that, 'specially since you and me both know you don't exactly fit in with the rest of 'em." Clementine glared at him. "I know you've been itching for a cigarette, and not because you want the nicotine, either.  Because you feel like you're just sitting around, waiting for something that ain't never gonna happen.  Trust me, I see you pacing the beach and bouncin' your leg all the time.  It's hard to miss."

Clementine didn't know what to say.  He'd told her things that she didn't even realize about herself.  She just continued staring, and bit her bottom lip.

"Yeah," he said, his blue eyes staring right into hers. "You and me got a connection, Miss Sunshine."

Clementine sighed, but her expression was softer now, even if she was still annoyed with him. "I can't stand you," she said.

"Sit, then," he said, gesturing to the seat in front of him. Clementine looked at him for another second, then sighed again. She walked the few steps back to her seat.  His smile grew when she sat, as if he'd won an argument.

"I gotta give it to you, you got that glare down, Green Eyes."

Clementine tapped her foot. "It's almost time," she said, taking a glance at the sun.

"I'm right, though, ain't I?" he asked her, tilting his head.

"We don't have a connection," Clem said.

Sawyer was probably about to make another off handed comment, but they heard a bottle rocket explode in the distance. "It's five," said Clem, standing up and sticking their rocket into the ground. "Go turn on the antenna."

"You got it, boss."  He went back up into the tree just as a second bottle rocket was fired up into the sky from the beach, leaving a trail of smoke behind it as it popped.

Clem looked up at Sawyer, who gave her a nod. She set off the rocket and it flew into the air, popping about 80 feet up into sparks. Sayid would be turning on the transceiver now.

The only step left? Hope.

Chapter Text

The triangulation didn't go as planned.

The moment he'd turned on the transceiver, Sayid had been hit by someone from behind and blacked out.  When they all convened back at the beach, Sayid's transceiver and antenna had been destroyed.  All the batteries in the antennae were dead, and there was no more bottle rockets for them to use.  He didn't know who'd hit him.  He remembered setting off the flares, turning on the transmitter, then nothing.

The rockslide at the caves yesterday had trapped Jack inside, but with a whole lot of dirty work and problem solving, the group was able to dig a hole into the alcove and send someone inside. Charlie had gone in, but their tunnel had collapsed— after a few hours, Charlie and Jack found their own way out, following a moth to an opening and finding their way through. The rest of the caves' structural integrity, however, was a-ok according to Michael, who used to be a construction worker.

Clementine walked back down the beach toward camp, having grabbed a whole bunch of bananas from a tree nearby. It wasn't much, and they had a whole lot of people going out for fruit already, but it was something for her to do. On her trek back down the coast, she spotted something in the sand, and upon further look, found it was a pile of clothes and belongings— a pair of tattered jeans with a piece of paper sticking out of the pocket, a blue shirt, shoes, socks, a copy of Watership Down, and a pack of cigarettes.

She picked up the novel. It was bent and beaten, and had a picture of a rabbit on the front. She'd never read it, but she knew it was a classic. Charlotte didn't exactly attend college.

"Hell of a book!" called a voice from afar. She looked to her left, seeing a figure out in the water, shoulders deep. The sun behind him gave his blond hair a sort of halo as he stepped out of the water, no shirt, no pants. Clem tossed the book back onto his pile. "It's about bunnies," he said with a smirk, emerging from the waves soaking wet in only his boxers.

"You're not cold?" she said, eyeing him up and down. He had quite the build, but she wouldn't ever give him the satisfaction of saying that.

"How 'bout you come a little closer and warm me up?"

Rolling her eyes, Clem adjusted the bundle of bananas on her shoulder. She stared him down as he picked up his jeans and began putting them on. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Sawyer."

Without another look, she walked off, back toward camp, but she could feel his eyes on her as she walked along the coast.

— ◒ —

"What?" Clementine began to pace.  "You haven't called me in years.  No hello, no how are you. This can't be true.  You're just trying to get me to come home.  You're just—" Her voice broke as she sobbed.  "It's not true."

"Your mother is gone, Clementine.  And I'm so, so sorry it had to be this way." His voice, too, seemed laced with sadness, as if he'd been crying for hours.  She'd never heard her father's voice like this. "I just... I wanted you to come.  One last time."

Clementine was silent for a moment.  She thought about it, and her dad allowed her, probably hoping for the answer he wanted. But Clementine couldn't give him that.  "No," she said simply.  No sorry, no explanation.

"Clem, please," he said.  "She's your mother."

"She didn't love me anymore, dad."

"She did," he pleaded.  "She always did, just like I still do."

"Really?" Clem challenged.  "She wasn't that great at showing it.  Or were all the slaps and screams and name calling out of love?"

"Charlotte..." But he trailed off, not having much to argue with her.

"I can't do it anymore, dad.  I can't pretend she cared about me."

"Clem, she's your mother."

"I don't care, dad.  She resented me."

"Can you blame her, Clementine? I mean—"

"Excuse me?"

Her dad stuttered, realizing what he just said.  "I didn't mean it like that, Clem, I—"

"Can I blame her?" she repeated. "She blamed me my entire life! She's manipulated and gaslighted and beaten me into thinking I was this horrible person, dad!" She was yelling now, and hoped her desperation and volume was getting to him through the phone. "I never did anything to her, not once in my life, and she hated me for almost every minute. She made me leave.  You never stopped her.  You never said anything. Not once."

"I need you, Clementine," her dad pleaded, a desperate attempt. His voice was low and quiet.

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that when I was 13."  Without listening to another word, Clementine hung up the phone.

— ◒ —

Clementine heard shouting up the beach, toward where Jack's old residence was— a place now occupied by Sawyer.  She looked up and saw him and another man— close cut, brunette hair— Jack. They were shouting loudly at each other, Sawyer sitting in one of his airplane seats while Jack stood over him. 

Clem began walking over, and when she saw Sawyer stand up, her walk became a little more brisk.  She knew the skirmishes Jack and Sawyer would get into all too well, and she didn't want this to turn physical. "Hey," she said loudly, causing both their heads to turn to her as she walked into the canopied space. "What's going on here?"

Sawyer and Jack looked at each other for a couple seconds, then back at Clem.  Jack walked away, and Clementine followed him, but not without one last disappointed look at Sawyer, who, for once, wasn't smiling.

"I'm gonna kill him," said Jack, walking down the beach toward the burnt remains of the fuselage.

"Jack, what is going on?" she said, catching up and walking at his side.

He stopped walking, then turned to her.  Clementine stayed quiet, ready for his explanation.  Jack wasn't exactly known for such drastic measures. "Boone came to me in the caves," Jack began, "bloodied, bruised.  Sawyer did it to him.  He was going through his stash.  Shannon's got asthma, and he had some of Boone's stuff.  Sawyer has the replacement inhalers, and she's out.  She needs them."

"How do you know Sawyer has them?" she said.

"He had Boone's book," he explained. "It was in his bag, with the inhalers.  He found the book, he found the bag."

Clementine looked at the ground and sighed.  "And how's killing him going to help?"

Jack shook his head.  "I don't know, but it'll feel good."

She thought to herself for another few seconds. An asthma attack here wouldn't be good, especially without inhalers or any kind of medicine to calm Shannon's breathing down. "Let me talk to Sawyer," she said.

Jack looked to the side, then raised his brows. "Why is he gonna listen to you?"

Clem sighed, then looked to her side. "He says we have a connection."

Jack scoffed, turning away. Clementine waited for him to finish with raised brows. "Do you?" he said, turning back to her, amused.

Clementine shook her head. "Please."

After a second, Jack nodded. "Good luck," he told her, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

She went off to find Sawyer, which wasn't difficult— he was chopping wood up the beach with the group's one axe, creating quite a lot of noise. After watching him for only a couple of seconds, she decided to get straight to the point. "What do you want?" she asked, leaning up against a tree nearby.

He glanced at her, then looked back down at the wood he was chopping.  "'Scuse me?" he said.

"What do you want, Sawyer?" she repeated.

He breathed out.  "Sunshine, I got so many answers to that question, I wouldn't even know where to start."

"What do you want for the inhalers?" she clarified, tilting her head.

Sawyer was about to pick up the axe to swing again, but he paused. "Oh," he said. "Good question.  Hang on a tick."

Clementine huffed as Sawyer swung the axe again, chopping a thick branch in two. She rolled her eyes.

"What do I want?" he wondered out loud.  He panted as he thought, but Clem was pretty sure he knew exactly what he wanted.  All she had to do was wait. "A kiss oughta do it," he said finally.

Clem scrunched her brows. "What?" Had she heard him right?

Sawyer turned his head, staring at her, as if it were obvious.  "A kiss," he said plainly. "From you. Right now."

Clementine wished there was someone she could give her appalled look to.  He couldn't be serious. And a kiss?  For Shannon's life-saving medicine? She could suffocate and die, and Sawyer wanted a kiss. "Come on," she said, crossing her arms.  "I'm not buying it."

"Buying what?" he said, turning back around. 

"Your act.  You're trying too hard, Sawyer," she said, trying to get under his skin.  He swung the axe again.  "I'm asking you to help a woman who can't breathe, and you want me to kiss you? No one's that disgusting."

Sawyer didn't answer, and instead, swung again at the wood on the sand.  What could she do to tick him off? What would annoy him enough that he might actually pay attention to the words she was saying? Then Clem thought about her first time seeing him— no, not the cigarettes.

"I've seen you, y'know," she said simply.

"Seen me what?" he said, brushing the comment off.

"With that piece of paper."  Sawyer froze.  "The one you keep in your pocket," she continued. "I saw the expression on your face when you read it. How carefully you fold it up.  It means something to you."  Sawyer swung at the wood again, harder this time. "You can play games all you want, but I know there's a human being in there somewhere." Sawyer put the axe to his side, but didn't look at her yet.  "Give me the medication," she pleaded.

"You think you understand me," Sawyer said, not turning around.

"Maybe," said Clem.  "I think I—"

"Shut up!" he said angrily, his teeth grit as he turned around to look at her.  His brows were furrowed and his eyes thinned. Clementine hoped she hadn't jumped, simply staring back at him.

Sawyer threw down the axe, finally turning his whole body to face her.  "Want to know what kind of human being I am?" he asked, stomping toward her.  Clementine took a couple steps back, staring into his eyes.  He took the paper out of his pocket, and unfolded it, holding it out. "Read it," he commanded.

Clementine looked down at the letter, then back up at Sawyer. He stared at her angrily for another second, then took her wrist and shoved the paper into her hand.  "Read it. Out loud."

His face scared her a little. But she did as he asked, and read it.

"Dear Mr. Sawyer," she began. "You don't know who I am, but I know who you are, and I know what you've done." She paused a second.  "You... had sex with my mother, and then you stole my dad's money all away. So he got angry—" Clem's voice faltered— "and he killed my mother. And then..." she swallowed, "then he killed himself too."

"Don't stop now," said Sawyer, his teeth still grit, his brows still furrowed. "You're gettin' to the good part."

She could feel his eyes burning through her as she read.  "All I know is your name.  But one of these days, I'm gonna find you, and I'm gonna give you this letter, so you'll remember what you done to me." She breathed in and out again. "You killed my parents, Mr. Sawyer."

The letter was finished.  His angry gaze stayed fixed on her, but she didn't dare look up at him. Not now. Not anymore. He took the paper from her hands, still staring at her. "Now, how 'bout that kiss?" he said, his voice hoarse and low.  She didn't answer, instead staring down, not wanting to look into his eyes again.  "I didn't think so."

Sawyer walked away.

— ◒ —

The caves in the valley were a dark place at night, but the few fires lit by its inhabitants kept it bright enough for function.  There was a waterfall of fresh water flowing near the back of the open space, and the opening into them was wide but hidden from predators by a few flora and fauna. There was a ledge around the small falls, perfect for balancing water bottles or just sitting. People had set up their individual sleeping spaces in certain corners and alcoves of the cave.

The sun had only just set, but Clementine had trekked up to the caves to see how Shannon was doing. The short answer? Not well.

Her breathing was made up of raspy gasps and coughs now. Her lips were chapped and her eyes had dark circles underneath. Boone sat next to her, trying to offer words of encouragement, and Clem gave the girl some space, allowing Boone to be her shoulder to lean on. She needed the air. Her breaths were hoarse and sharp, and there were tears in her eyes.

When Sawyer walked past them, Clementine looked down. He walked toward the flowing water and placed a bottle underneath, filling it up. When Clementine looked up, Jack was standing next to him. "Give me the inhalers," he said. "Now."

Sawyer stood up straight. "Hell, I was wondering when you were gonna stop asking nice."

As he was about to take a sip of water, Jack hit him in the face. The water flew everywhere and the sound of the punch had surprised everyone. If they weren't already looking, they were now. Sawyer was on his hands and knees on the ground now. He wiped his lip and stood, saying, "Well, it's about time, cowboy. I've been telling you since day one, we're in the wild." He pushed his hair back. "Didn't think you had it in you." Jack knocked him again. Sawyer fell to the ground, panting, blood leaking from his lip. He was smiling as he sat up again.

"That all you got?" he asked Jack.

Everyone's eyes were on them. Jack stared him down for a moment, thinking— but he seemed to decide that it all wasn't worth it, because he shook his head, then walked away again, leaving Sawyer there.

Shannon's breathing later calmed, but she was still taking deep breaths to keep steady, try and prevent the asthma attacks. She'd asked Clementine to stay at the caves, just for the night, and because Clementine was her friend, she did so, setting her temporary sleeping quarters very near to Shannon and Boone's.

Clementine liked Shannon. To most of the people on the island, she seemed like your typical white girl— parties, beaches, tans, nails. Sure, Shannon liked those things, but Clem talked to her a lot, and knew she was more than that. She was smart— clever, even, and she wasn't shallow. She had the most hope out of anyone Clem knew that they could get off this damn island, and she respected that. Shannon's faith in them all to work and get them off this place was what honestly kept Charlotte so positive about the situation. She didn't just want it— she believed it.

The next morning, Shannon wasn't doing well. She was gasping for air now, wheezing for breath. Clementine had rushed over the moment she heard Boone call, "Help! She's not breathing!" Jack was just ahead of her. "The attacks are getting worse," Boone said urgently, clearing some space for Jack to sit in front of her.

"Shannon?" said Jack, kneeling down in front of her. "Listen to me. Look at me. Look at me." He tilted her head up. Her lips were blue, and tears streamed from her eyes. The hope she usually seemed to have wasn't there anymore. "You need to listen now," said Jack. "This isn't just the asthma. It's anxiety." Shannon shook her head no. "Yes," said Jack, nodding. "You know that your medicine's run out, and you're panicking." Shannon wheezed again, her throat grasping for air. "Shannon," said Jack, trying to hold her focus on him. "Look at me. We can fight this. Together. Okay?"

Everyone had gathered now, not standing too close to give her space, but just staring, hoping, worrying. At only about 6 feet away, Clementine was the closest, keeping at a good distance from her friend, but not so far that she couldn't see her.

"Nod your head, Shannon," said Jack, as the blonde leaned her head back, took in a raspy breath, then nodded. "Good. Breathe in—"

"She needs her inhaler," Boone cut in.

"Boone," scolded Jack loudly. Boone took the hint, giving them space.

"Breathe in through the nose," Jack said. "Slowly." Shannon gasped for air again, but through her mouth. "No, no, in through the nose, like this." He demonstrated. She struggled to close her mouth, her body wanting to take in as much air as possible. "You can do it, Shannon. In through the nose." After another second, the wheezing stopped. Shannon closed her lips, taking a deep breath in through her nose. Finally, she caught her breath, and the color slowly flooded back into her cheeks.

Jack took her through it again, in through the nose, out through the mouth. She was more relaxed now. He gave Boone instructions to keep her calm and make sure he doesn't panic, then made his way out of the caves. "Wow, man," said Hurley, watching Jack rush out of the cave, "that was awesome. I mean, that was like a... Jedi moment."

While Boone went to grab her some water, Clem took a seat beside her friend, placing a light hand on her shoulder. "You alright?" she said, rubbing her back.

Shannon nodded, still breathing slowly. In, out.

"You did good," Clementine said. Shannon smiled weakly. "Tell you what," said Clementine. "I can paint your nails or something, if you want. I know you can never get your left hand."

"Thank you," said Shannon, her smile bigger now, a little more hopeful. Her cheeks were their usual pink color again.

Clementine stood up, off to get Shannon's things from her bag at the beach. "I'll be back," she said, and Shannon nodded.

— ◒ —

The walk to the beach wasn't long, and Shannon kept her things quite organized, the couple bottles of nail polish she'd brought with her sitting neatly in her toiletries bag. But after grabbing the polish, on her way back up the beach, she spotted Jack and Sayid— and they were carrying an unconscious Sawyer in their arms. "What are you doing?" Clementine shouted. They didn't answer, and kept walking. Clem ran up to meet them. "Jack!" she shouted again.

"This was Sawyer's choice, not mine," he said, not looking at her.

"If you do this—" But they were already walking away toward the jungle, ignoring her. Whatever they were going to do to him— it wasn't going to be nice. No more talking.

Clementine went back to the caves to reconvene with Shannon, but she was distracted the whole time, so much so that even Shannon had asked her what was up. Clementine had told her it was nothing, that she was just worried about her, and continued painting her friend's nails, a little more careful than before.

Just as she was about to start the second coat, however, Sayid came to find her. He didn't look happy, and he had a knife strapped to his belt. She didn't know what he'd done to Sawyer, and she didn't really want to. But it seemed like he had other plans.

Clementine looked up at him. He simply stared, waiting for her, so she stood, handing Shannon the bottle of nail polish. "What?" she asked, keeping her voice low as to not draw attention.

"He wants to talk to you," said Sayid.

Clementine furrowed her brows. "What did you do to him?"

Sayid pursed his lips, then took a breath. "Nothing good."

"Why me?"

Sayid shook his head, as if to say, I don't know. "You're the only one he'll speak to."

Clementine took a deep breath. In, then out.  After telling Shannon she'd be back soon, she followed Sayid back into the jungle.

Sawyer was on his knees, tied to a tree in a part of the jungle closer to the beach.  It was a grove of mostly bamboo, the thin leaves allowing light to litter the dirt on the ground, highlighting the blond hair on Sawyer's bowed head.  Sayid gave her a nod, then left her there with him.  She stood and stared for a moment, about 10 feet away.  Sawyer finally looked up.  His hair and shirt were wet, probably from the way they'd woken him with cold water to the face. He was bleeding from the side of his head and his lip.

Clementine slowly stepped closer warily, her face blank. She didn't want it to seem like she was scared of him or afraid— she just wanted the inhalers. That's all.

Sawyer looked up at her with just his eyes. He wasn't smiling. "I'm here," said Clementine, standing over him. "Where are they?"

Sawyer breathed heavily, then tilted his head back. "Happy to tell you," he began, "soon as I get that kiss."

"What?" Clem breathed. "Are you serious?"

Sawyer looked down. "Baby, I am tied to a tree in the jungle of mystery," he looked back up at her, "and I just got tortured by a damn spinal surgeon and a genuine Iraqi."  He paused for a second, his blue eyes looking right into her hazel ones.  "'Course I'm serious."

He was smiling now.

Clementine looked down at him. Not only literally.  How dare he ask again for a damn kiss, when Shannon could die? How could he just be repulsive and frustrating again and again and again?

"You're just not seeing the big picture here, Sunshine," he said to her. "You're really gonna let that girl suffocate because you can't bring yourself to give me one little kiss?"

Clementine's lips parted, and Sawyer smiled bigger. He knew he had her now. "Hell, it's only first base," he continued.  "Lucky for you I ain't greedy."

Now all he had to do was wait.  Clem tilted her head, watching him close. He might be absolutely repulsive, but his looks definitely weren't. But while his long dirty blond hair and blue eyes gave him a handsome appearance, it didn't do his personality justice. 

But Clem had to do it.  For Shannon.

"Okay."

Sawyer didn't seem like he believed her.  But after a second, he decided she was being truthful.  "Okay," he breathed.

As she stepped toward him, Sawyer looked up at her with only his eyes, his face pleading with her to just get closer, and closer still. He looked as if he'd never been kissed before, as if he'd been waiting for this his entire life.  Maybe it was just the fact he was bleeding and bruised. Clementine knelt down and breathed out from her nose.  He waited for her, quietly, not smiling like he usually was.  He almost looked... sad.

Clementine glanced at his lips, then slowly, leaned in closer, their eyes closing, and lips finally touching. It was slow, indulgent, and while she first planned to give him a simple peck, something short, she found herself going deeper, balancing a hand on his thigh as she leaned into him, breath hot in the humid air.  She kissed again, longer this time, and now Sawyer, too, seemed to be pushing into the kiss. But before their tongues came together in a sort of dance, Clementine pulled herself away, looking down. She took her hand off of him.

For a moment, their foreheads stayed close. She looked into his eyes as he bit his lip, waiting now for his answer.  He shook his head slightly. "I don't have it," he whispered, his voice raspy.

Clementine leaned away as her eyes widened. "What?" she whispered.

Sawyer looked down, shaking his head.  "The medicine. I don't have it." He looked back into her eyes.  "Never did."

"The book," she said.  "It was Boone's.  It was in his luggage." She was getting angry now. The whole time, he lead them on? He took a kiss from her, that beautiful kiss, in trade for something he didn't have? Why would he ever make them even think he had the medicine? Why didn't the damn cowboy just tell them?

Sawyer leaned his head back against the tree.  "Book washed up on shore," he said. He inhaled.  "Went in the drink with the rest of the—"

Without another thought, Clementine slapped him across the face.  Then she left him, breathing heavily, without another look.

As she walked out of the tree grove, she saw Sayid and Jack, waiting out there. She began to walk past them, a little too upset to speak with anyone right now. Maybe she'd go through Sawyer's stuff or something.  "He doesn't have it," she said plainly. 

"What?" Jack said, appalled. He took a couple steps to follow her.

"He's lying," said Sayid. "Can't you see that?" Clementine turned around, stopping her brisk walk.  "He's been lying from the beginning.  He doesn't want us to get off this island.  That's why he attacked me."

"Hold on a minute," Jack said, trying to calm Sayid's rising tone.

"He didn't attack you," said Clem, shaking her head. "I was there the whole time, he—"

"He destroyed the transceiver!" Sayid shouted.  He turned around to go back into the tree grove. Clementine hadn't noticed until now, but there was a knife in his hand.

"You don't know that," said Jack, trying to reason with him. "Sayid!" he called after him, running behind.  Clem followed Jack.  Sayid ran into the grove of trees.  Sawyer was shifting, struggling in his restraints as Sayid stomped toward him.  As he got close, the blond stood and tackled him.  Clementine paused, wide eyed, as Jack called for them to stop.  They fell to the ground, rolling over each other.  Then there was a slash, and Sawyer shouted.

Sayid sat up, revealing the knife stuck into Sawyer's bicep, leaking blood. Sayid got up, allowing Jack to kneel by Sawyer's side.  His breathing was heavy and raspy, his teeth grit and his face scrunched up in pain.  Clementine bit her fingers, staying a few steps away.

Jack pulled the knife out, and a large amount of blood spewed from the wound as Sawyer groaned loudly again. Clem winced. "You hit an artery," said Jack. "Keep still, damn it," he told Sawyer. He held Sawyer's bleeding arm, then looked up at Sayid. "Sayid, I need my stuff from the caves. My leather backpack. Go!" Sayid nodded, then immediately turned and ran through the jungle toward the caves.

Sawyer was still bleeding, a lot.  It was all over Jack's hands.  Clementine was still standing above them, biting her fingernails.  Sure, she didn't like him, or what he did to her.  But that didn't mean she wanted him dead. Jack held Sawyer's arm tight, and the blond stared up at him, eyes thinned. "Let go. I know you want to," he said, his voice a weak whisper.

"Shut up," said Jack firmly, "and stop moving." Clem bent down to help Jack, holding down Sawyer's other arm.

Sawyer didn't do either of those things.

"You're been waiting for this, haven't you? You get to be a hero again, cause that's what you do." His breathing was heavy and his voice still quiet and weak. "You fix everything up all nice." He looked at Clem. "Tell him to let go, Sunny," he continued between breaths. "We already made out. What else I got to live for?"

Jack glanced at her, but she didn't look back at him. "Hey, Jack, there's something you should know," Sawyer said. "If tables were turned..." He panted. "I'd watch you die."

Jack simply stared at him, a sort of pity, maybe, in his expression. Sawyer's breathing began to slow just as they heard Sayid stepping back through the jungle, into the grove of bamboo trees. Clementine watched as, slowly, he lost consciousness, the blood loss from the artery finally getting to his brain. Even in the worst pain he's probably ever experienced, panting to breathe and bleeding out in the jungle, he never stopped running his mouth. Not until he wastes so much energy that he passes out, Clementine thought.

— ◒ —

They brought him back to his tent up the beach, a sort of canopied cabana made with pieces of the wreckage, towels, and tarps, complete with cushions from some of the chairs laid out to make a sort of bed.  His arm was bandaged and they'd had to take his shirt off, too.  He was much more peaceful sleeping than he was awake.

Clementine was sitting nearby, reading Sawyer's letter over and over, which she'd taken from his pocket.  She was still in disbelief. Sawyer was hardened, yes, and reckless and mean and surely was some kind of criminal in his past life, but she just couldn't see it. Why would he beat up Boone, be subject to torture, just to never have the inhalers in the first place? She didn't believe the letter would give her the answer, but it's the only thing she had. Again and again, she examined every word, every curve on the ends of the handwriting, even the bent and crumpled envelope he kept it in.

Clementine looked to her left, seeing Sawyer quietly stirring, slowly blinking awake. There was a light breeze now, a nice break from the island sun. He glanced down at the white bandage wrap on his arm, then at Clem, who said, "You're lucky to be alive."

Sawyer looked around the tent, maybe searching for someone else, but there was no one.  "Jack?" he asked.

Clementine stood up from her seat by one of the pieces of wreckage holding up the structure and walked toward Sawyer. "He went to the caves to check on Shannon." She then took a seat closer to him, and held up his letter.  He stared at it.  "I read it again," she said, waving it. "And then again.  And again.  'Cause I've been trying to figure out why you beat up Boone instead of just telling him you didn't have his sister's medication." Her tone was firm. "Why you pretended to have it anyway." Sawyer turned away.  "The only answer I seemed to get is that you want to be hated." She paused, just staring at him. "And then I looked at the envelope." 

He turned back to her, brows scrunched.  Clem put the folded letter behind it and read the seal on the envelope. "America's bicentennial, Knoxville, Tennessee," she read. She looked back up at him. "You were just a kid.  Eight, maybe nine years old."

"Clementine," he breathed, shaking his head as if asking her to stop.  She didn't.

"This letter wasn't written to you.  You wrote it."

Sawyer looked down again, then turned away.

"Your name isn't Sawyer, is it?" she said.

There was a few seconds of silence.  Sawyer's look was solemn, as if he were watching a memory in real time.  "It was his name," he said finally. He didn't look at Clementine as he continued, his voice quiet and low.  "He was a confidence man.  Romanced my mama to get to the money." He sighed.  "Wiped 'em out clean, left a mess behind.  So I wrote that letter."  Clementine stayed silent as he spoke. He turned to her, and she looked down at her fingernails.  "I wrote it knowing one day I'd find him. But that ain't the sad part." She looked at him again as he adjusted himself, saying, "When I was 19, I needed six grand to pay these guys off I was in trouble with." He sighed again, a little longer this time.  "So I found a pretty lady with a dumb husband who had some money.  And then I got 'em to give it to me."

There was a sort of fear in Sawyer's eyes, or maybe sorrow.  Now that she was closer, it was cloudy, a sort of mix of gray ocean. "How's that for a tragedy?" he continued, looking up at the ceiling of the canopy. "I became the man I was hunting. I became Sawyer."

"And who are you now?"

He looked at her again, brows furrowed.

"Still Sawyer?" she asked.  She purposefully kept her face blank, knowing he would send her away if she gave any sign of feeling sorry for him.  She did.  But he didn't want that.

Clementine held the letter out for him to take, and he did so, his eyes staying in touch with hers the entire time.  He clutched it at his chest, then laid back down, staring at the ceiling.  "James," he said simply, quietly. Even the breeze's voice rung louder.

Clementine smiled softly. "James."

Chapter Text

"Sayid's gone."

"What?"

It was dusk now.  Clementine had left Sawyer's side about an hour ago, once Jack came by to check in on him. She, in turn, had gone to go see Shannon, who Jack said was doing great— he was right.  The Korean woman on the island, who, Clementine found, was named Sun, had made a sort of natural Vicks VapoRub from eucalyptus that they'd found on the island.  The remedy had calmed her airways, and Shannon had a smile back on her face, and did not get winded or whisper when speaking to Clem. She was happy.

Now, she was back on the beach, sitting near Kate by the fire.  Shannon was staying at the caves for just a little longer, and while she'd usually opted for Claire's side, Charlie had convinced the pregnant girl to move to the caves with him. Charlie and Claire got along well.  He seemed to make her smile a lot more than anyone else in this place did, and Clem admired that.

But the news Kate had bluntly brought had ruined her first good mood in a little while.

"He's gone," she said, staring at the fire. "He said he couldn't stay here anymore."

"Why?" asked Clem urgently.  "Where did he go?  And what about what's in the jungle?"

"He didn't say where he's going," Kate said, shaking her head.  "What he did to Sawyer..." She shook her head, then looked at Clementine. "He said he vowed to never do again. I don't know if he cares about what's in the jungle."

Clementine looked down at the sand.  "It's my fault," she said.  "It's my fault it went for as long as it did."

"What?" said Kate.  "Sawyer's a jerk, Clementine.  He wouldn't have given you your answer until he wanted to."

Clementine shook her head, still not looking at the brunette beside her.  "He asked me to kiss him."

"He what?"

"A kiss for the information," she explained.  "That's the trade he gave me.  And I could have done it earlier, but I was too arrogant, I guess.  That's why Sayid had to do what he did.  That's why Sawyer got hurt."

"That's not fair. He had no right to ask you that," Kate said.  "You've known him for a week. You can't blame yourself, Clem.  You didn't know."

— ◒ —

"I didn't know!"

"Bullshit you didn't know! You hated her from the start, Charlotte, I know it!"

Her mother knocked a glass vase down, the shards shattering across the floor.

"I didn't mean to!" She was sobbing, yelling, screaming, pleading. She needed it to stop. She couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't take it.

"You did!  You hated her, you bastard child!"

A 17-year-old Clementine backed away as her mother walked toward her, but in her small bedroom, there was only so much space. Her back was against the wall now.  Her mother slapped her cheek, but whatever she'd been drinking had made her weaker than usual. 

"Stop it!" Clementine shouted.  Her mother did not stop.  "Please stop!" she pleaded.  Again, she was ignored. She sunk down to the floor as her mother hit her again, and pulled her hair.

"You killed her, Charlotte! You killed her!"

Clementine just sobbed, letting out a shout every time her mother hit her again.  She was on the floor now, breathing heavily as her mother continued shouting and cursing at her.  She couldn't take it anymore.  Five years of this. 

Finally, Clementine got up, slowly. Her mother glared at her, breathing heavily. "You ruined my life," she said. "You ruined hers, too. You destroyed this family."

Clementine breathed. "For five years, you've blamed me, and hit me, and shouted at me for the same crime!" she began, yelling back at her mother for the first time in her life. "I never, ever did anything to hurt you. Ever.  And I didn't hate her!  I loved her!" Her mother looked taken aback, yet angry still.  "But you..." Clementine began, through gritted teeth.  She took a step away from the wall. "You, I can easily hate."

Her mother's breathing became quick and loud.  "Get out," she said. "Get out of my house."  Clementine just stared. "Get out!" she screamed, pulling Charlotte by her shoulders and pushing her out of the bedroom door.  She pushed her and hit her to the exit of the house, screaming and cursing the entire way.  Clementine didn't care.  She didn't want to stay here anymore.

"You're a killer, Charlotte!" her mother screamed as Clementine stepped out the door. She walked down the street and didn't look back, but her mother's voice called out at her. "You're a killer, and you'll never be anything else!"

Clementine never saw her mother again.

— ◒ —

"Hi," Clementine greeted, walking up to an older, bald man sitting up by the woods on a fallen tree.  The sun was setting on a clear night, and the waves were calm and quiet. "John Locke, right?"

He was sharpening a knife as he looked up at her, an open case of them right next to him on the sand. He was wearing a beige vest with lots of pockets, and had a scar over his right eye from his brow to his cheekbone. When he looked up at her, he smiled warmly, a sort of wiseness in his blue-gray eyes. He nodded, then asked, "What can I do for you?"

She'd always found Mr. Locke a little mysterious. She knew he'd become fast friends with the kid, Walt, and his father didn't like that for whatever reason. He seemed like a nice person, but Clem had never talked to him much. She often saw him sitting alone by the ocean, oftentimes at sunset. He was also the hunter of the group, and about once a week or so, would go out and snag another boar for the group.

"I'd like to come with you," she said simply. "On a hunt."

"I see," he said, standing up and placing the knife into a holder on his belt. "And have you ever hunted before, Miss..." He trailed off, waiting for her to add her name.

"Roberts," she finished. "But Charlotte is fine. I have hunted before," she added. "I used to go all the time with my dad and..." She paused, "my sister."

Locke nodded. "And have you ever killed anything, Charlotte?"

The question caught her a little off guard. "Once," she said, after a moment of thought.

"Good," he said, the smile coming back onto his face. He bent down, then grabbed one of the knives from his case, placed it in a leather sheath, and held it out for her to take. "I could use the help."

She took it carefully, surprised the man had trusted her so easily, without much of a second thought.

They set off into the jungle before the sun even set. Night was the best time to hunt boar, especially in a hot place like this. They were messy animals, uprooting soil, creating mud wallows, and scratching at the bases of trees wherever they went. Even though they didn't have the greatest eyesight, they were quick and strong, and with a little knife, you'd need a few good stabs to really kill the thing.

"So," said Locke, as they walked through the jungle together, keeping an eye out for any sign of boar nearby, "where you from, Charlotte?"

"Torrance," she replied. "Just outside of Los Angeles. You?"

"Tustin," he replied. "You said your father taught you to hunt?"

Clem nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Me and my family used to go camping all the time. My dad liked to say it was part of the outdoors experience."

"If you went all the time, why'd you only kill something once?"

Clementine paused before replying. "I didn't mind the tracking, the being quiet, the sneaking up behind the animals. And I've stuck a deer or two. But the final blow... I just was never able to do it. A long time after I moved away from my parents, I went deer hunting. Killed a doe. But..." She sighed. "I don't know. I haven't been hunting since."

"Sounds like you're not much of a killer," he said simply. He didn't mean it to be an insult at all, and Clementine didn't take it as one. But Locke didn't exactly have her right.

"Maybe," she said.

There was a few steps of silence as they trotted through the darkening jungle. They weren't deep enough to find the boar trail just yet, but they kept their eyes and ears open anyway. "People call you Charlie back home?" he asked, breaking the simple sounds of the outdoors.

"Hmm?" Clementine said.

"Charlie? Lottie?"

"Oh," nodded Charlotte. "No, actually. People used to call me Clementine." She remembered her mother. "Most of the time."

"Clementine," he repeated. "Where'd that come from?"

"Just something my father used to call me." She smiled. "It used to be my favorite food."

"And what do you do for a living, Charlotte?"

Clementine had to think for a second. God, that really felt like so long ago. Like she'd been a whole other person just a week ago. "I'm a secretary for a small accounting firm," she said. "Not too exciting."

Locke chuckled a little, looking back at her. "I'm afraid I don't have you beat," he said. "I'm a regional collections manager for a box company."

Clem raised her brows. "I could have sworn you might be some kind of park ranger or something."

"Sometimes a job is just a way to make money," he shrugged. "Hold on. Look at this."

He knelt down near a tree. The base of its trunk was littered with scratches, nice and low. Only a few feet away was a sort of burrow in the dirt, a divot filled with mud that has seemed to splatter on the plant life nearby, too.

"They look pretty new," Clem commented, running her finger down the scratched wood.

Locke nodded. "It can't be far," he agreed.

— ◒ —

"You sure you're ready for that, Charlotte?" He seemed like he was testing her— his raised brows showed Charlotte that he already knew the answer.

She nodded immediately. "Yes."

"Good," he said. He put his hands on the clasps of a case nearby. There was a click, then he opened it, revealing the money inside. Ten thousand, cash, in four neat piles. He picked up one bundle and handed it to her. She simply looked down at the money. Clementine wasn't sure she'd ever had this much money at once.

"A quarter now," he said. "The rest once the job is done."

Clementine looked up at him and nodded. She didn't know his name, and didn't ask. He had distinct, gray eyes, and graying streaks ran through his neatly combed black hair. He wore a suit jacket over his dress shirt, and an expensive looking watch. She could see just underneath his jacket, a gun sat in a holster by his belt.

She'd probably be able to identify him in any lineup, but Clementine had a feeling he'd been doing this too long to get caught now.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He smiled a little. "Sure, kid. Shoot." She didn't really like being called 'kid', but she wasn't about to protest.

"How did you find me?"

He thought for a moment. "Let's just say I keep an eye out for people like you."

"Like me?" she repeated.

The man nodded. "Not a lot of them left," he said. "But if I didn't know better, I'd say you were a killer."

He reached for the gun in his holster slowly, then took it out and handed it to her, barrel facing the floor. She took it, checked the magazine to see that it was loaded, then pushed it back in quickly. She placed the gun into her jeans, then looked into the man's gray eyes.

"I'd say you were right."

— ◒—

The jungle was dark now. Crickets chirped and the light breeze moved the leaves above their heads, creating a sort of whisper for them to listen to as they followed the boar's trail. After a few moments, they heard a rustling ahead.

Clem and Locke looked at each other, then nodded, following more quietly than they had before. Clementine was a few steps ahead of Locke, hoping her lighter steps might get the jump on the animal.

Its incredible hearing must have told it she was coming, because the rustling became faster, and its trot became a run. Clementine ran, too, keeping on her toes. She could see ahead of her exactly where the animal was, and where it was going. After a couple seconds of eyeing it, she threw the knife in her hand. There was a small thump. No more rustling.

Clementine just stood there, surprised by her own feat, as Locke walked past her. He knelt over the dark silhouette on the ground. "Is it dead?" she said, still frozen in her spot.

"Injured," he said, glancing up at her. Clementine took a few steps over and knelt down. It was small, not as big as some of the ones they'd seen. "It's a kid," he said. "A teenager, maybe."

In the back of her mind, Clem wished for a cigarette.

"But it's dinner," Locke continued. "You did good." He took her knife out of its backside and held it out to Clem, handle facing her. "You want to finish it off?"

Clementine stared at him.

— ◒ —

"I have to tell you," Clementine began, looking over at him in the driver's seat, "I've never done this before."

"I know," he said, still staring at the long stretch of highway in front of him.

"You know?"

"Don't forget, Charlotte, I keep tabs. Before I even contacted you, I knew you better than you know yourself."

Clem crossed her arms and looked out her window.  There was a few minutes of silence as she watched the trees zoom past in a blur. The man had kindly offered to take Clem to her destination, and she'd accepted. It was her first job, and she wasn't sure if she'd keep it going. But it was good money. Really good money.

"I don't think you killed her, Charlotte."

Clementine scrunched her brows, then looked over at the man. "Excuse me?"

"Your sister. It wasn't your fault."

"You don't know anything about me."

"That's the thing, Miss Roberts. I do. I know your mom blamed you for everything. I know you ran away from home, got kicked out, whatever. I know you've been living in and out of bus stops. And I know Catrina wouldn't—"

"Don't say her name," said Clementine, her voice irritable. "Don't." She didn't want to hear about what he had to say. She'd heard enough opinions about her sister's death for a lifetime.

Her employer stayed silent for the rest of the ride. They arrived at their destination only ten minutes later. It was an empty looking office building. It was dark out tonight, and very few cars sat in the parking lot. She gave the man a look, and he nodded to her. She checked the contents of the gun again— more than enough bullets for one target, and she knew exactly where he was. All she had to do was pull the trigger.

She got out of the car and walked across the expansive parking lot and into the building. Even though it was late, about 8pm, some people were still inside, mostly sanitation, but she didn't pass anyone. She was especially quiet, keeping her head down and using the stairs instead of the elevator.

She didn't know who her target was or why her employer wanted him dead, and if she was being honest, she didn't care. Mr. Salt and Pepper Hair had found her when she needed the money most, and she was desperate now. Six years of having nothing could do that to a person.

Clementine opened the door to office number 23. A man sat at the desk inside. The room was scattered with oddities and photos and a mess of papers and files. When she stepped in, her face blank, the man looked at her, confused and surprised. He was about to open his mouth, but Clementine was afraid that if he said any words, she might not be able to do it.

Quickly, she raised the gun and shot him in the head before a single sound could come out of his mouth.

— ◒ —

Charlotte looked down at the knife, and took it from Locke's hand. She took a few more steps over to the young boar, quietly whimpering from the pain in its back leg, and knelt next to it. Clementine simply stared at it, gripping the knife tight. Its chest rose up and down quickly, and the jungle breeze ruffled its fur. It was helpless.

Clem bit her lip, staring at it a little more. It reminded her of her sister. Helpless.

"I can't," she said breathily, putting the knife down. "I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he assured her. "It's okay. It's a living thing. Don't be sorry."

"I'm gonna, um..." She paused, looking up at him. She couldn't look at the poor animal anymore. "I'm gonna go wait somewhere else."

Locke gave her a smile, and nodded. She walked the other way toward some groups of trees, back the way they'd come. Clementine didn't understand why she couldn't do it, but something in her had told her to stop. She hadn't even been able to raise the knife, and hadn't even tried to strike. What was so difficult about killing the animal? She'd killed before. Animals, not as often, but as her mother liked to tell her, she was a killer.

This island seemed to give her a fresh chance. She didn't have to do it anymore. She didn't need the money. She didn't need to skydive and rock climb and bungee jump just to get her mind off the horrible things she'd done.

But her own acts were tearing at her insides, and no one on this damn island had a clue.

"You alright, Charlotte?" said a voice, spooking her a little. Clementine looked up from her seat on the ground to see Locke standing above her. The boar was tied up behind him, and he'd dragged it across the ground by the rope, too heavy and bloody to carry.

She simply nodded.

Locke took a seat next to her, sighing. They were silent together for a couple of minutes, then finally, Locke spoke up. "When I was a boy, I was in and out of foster homes," he began. "At one, I had a foster brother, Tommy, and he was this really tough, strong willed kid." Locke talked a lot with his hands, calmly. He didn't seem to care if Charlotte listened or not— just wanted to tell his story. "Him and I, we were in the Boy Scouts. Now, back then—" he chuckled— "they did a lot more intense stuff than they used to. We'd camp for days at a time, and did a lot of hunting, too. Tommy was good at that sort of stuff. Even though he wasn't our troop leader, the boys all respected him, y'know, looked up to him. He did a lot of the hunting for the group. Never had a second thought about cooking the animals."

Clementine listened intently now. Locke didn't look at her when he spoke, just let his words out for anyone who wanted to hear. "After a few years in that home, our foster mother got sick, and not soon after, she unfortunately passed away. After that, Tommy was... I don't know. Different." He shrugged. "He was calm, quiet, as opposed to his usual rowdy and loud. We were camping with our troop one week, and our leader sent him out to get dinner. Tommy came back a few hours later, empty handed. All of his hunting knives were gone. He was silent for the rest of the night. Wouldn't speak to anyone."

"Why?" asked Clementine. "What happened?"

Locke looked at her now. "After we were sent to bed, I asked Tommy what had happened. He told me he'd seen this doe, and she had two fawns following her— males. She was completely frozen, just staring at him."

"Why didn't he kill it?"

Locke took a breath, then looked back out toward the jungle, whispering in the breeze. "He said it had our foster mother's eyes."

Clementine looked down at the ground, burying her head in her arms. She took a slow, quiet breath, and didn't look back up. There was only a few seconds of silence before Locke spoke up again, turning himself to face her a little more. "Listen, I don't know you, Charlotte," he said. "I don't know what you're going through. But I do know one thing— people change. We went through... a trauma, Charlotte. That's the only way to put it. So don't feel bad if you don't feel like yourself."

Clementine sighed, picking her head up, but not looking at Locke just yet.  He was right— he didn't know her.  But every single one of them had gone through a trauma. She wasn't special. What was it about this place that had turned her into some kind of weakling? She'd done it before.

"There's something about this place, Locke," she said, looking out into the dark jungle, the trees ahead of them only lit by the fire on their torch. "I don't know if it's the creature out here in the jungle, or maybe the fact that no one really knows where we are. I don't know. It just feels like a do-over."

She looked over at him. He was already looking at her— she couldn't really see his face, but there was a sort of knowing look in his eye, as if he agreed with her. As if he could relate.

"Some people just need that fresh start."

— ◒ —

"It's done?"

Clementine closed the car door. There was blood splattered on her gray shirt, and she could feel it on her chin, too, but she didn't wipe her face. She put the gun on the middle console. "Drive," was all she said.

Her employer nodded, and did as she asked. "You did good, Charlotte," he said with a smile, as he drove them out on the open road. The job hadn't taken long, and there were still other cars around. Clementine felt as if there were hundreds of eyes on her, watching, waiting. "I knew I picked a good one. I'm proud of you."

Clementine looked over at him, but his eyes stayed fixed on the road. "You were quick, pretty tidy... everything I could ask for. How old did you say you were?"

Clementine didn't answer.

"Doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head. "You'll keep a low profile. You're good, kid. Real good."

Chapter Text

Clementine's eyes were thinned, fixed on the vast road in front of her. Her foot didn't come off the gas as she rounded a corner. She smiled as her friend clicked the stopwatch, passing her at about 180 miles an hour. Clem didn't have a timer running herself, but she knew she'd just broken her own record. Once again, she rounded the track, slowing this time, finally coming to a stop where the real racers would go to the pits.

"Hell, Roberts, you are one fast woman."

Clementine smiled, taking off the helmet and handing it to her. Joey worked at the pits for these tracks, and she was quite the racer herself, too, even if she hadn't gone professional yet. Clementine just did this sort of thing for fun. Her only competition? Herself.

The thrill of letting up the break, flooring the gas, switching the gear... every element of driving she had to hyper-focus on was like a sort of high, something she was always chasing. Joey didn't know Clementine very well, but Clem could tell the girl respected her. She didn't deserve the respect, but she was happy to have it anyway.

"Thanks, Joey," she said, patting the girl on the back. "Trust me, though, I'll never be as fast as you."

Joey chuckled. "You gonna go again? I'll change the tires for you."

"Thanks," she said. "But I'm okay for now."

"There's a man waiting at the start line for you, by the way."

Clementine whipped around. "What?"

"Dunno," she shrugged. "Didn't tell me his name. I asked him if he wanted to wait here in the pits, but he told me he wanted to watch you finish."

Clementine knew exactly who was waiting for her there. "I'll go talk to him," she said.

"Is he okay?" Joey said, putting a hand on Charlotte's shoulder. "Need me to be there?"

Clementine smiled at her. God, she really didn't deserve this. "I'll be alright. Thank you, Joey."

"Any time, Roberts."

— ◒ —

"He's an interesting guy."

"That's it. That's all you learned about him?"

Clementine shrugged.

"He's like a mystery to everyone in this place," Shannon continued. "And on your entire hunt, you decided he's an interesting guy. I could've figured that out myself."

"I don't know what it is," she said, shaking her head. "That's the only way I can describe him."

"Well, at least you got dinner," Shannon said, turning onto her stomach. They were lying on towels down the beach, just chatting. If it weren't for being on this boring island, they might have something a little more exciting to talk about. For today, Shannon wanted the 'dish' on Mr. Locke.

If it wasn't a private sort of situation, she might tell Shannon about her whole adventure with Locke, but the things they'd talked about seemed like something she'd rather keep to herself. Besides, Shannon surely didn't want to hear about her troubles or her past.

One thing was true, though— after a little more than a week on this island, people were getting bored. Restless. Clementine was, too. There were chores and ways to help out, but really, people could only gather so much firewood and fruit. Forty-six people could get a lot done when they put their minds to it, but now, there was nothing left to occupy their anxious hands. All that they could do was wait. If rescue even decided to come at all.

"You're never gonna believe this," said a voice, interrupting their short silence. Shannon looked up from the magazine she was reading and found Boone, kneeling down between them. Both girls looked up.

"You finally learned how to tie your own shoes?" asked Shannon with a smile.

"Funny," said Boone, not amused. "Someone at the caves built a golf course."

"You're kidding," said Clementine. She really thought he was just playing a joke on his sister. What else was there to do?

"Seriously, a golf course," he said, looking up the beach toward the trees. "Apparently Jack's playing with them now."

"Jack," said someone from behind them in disbelief. Clem looked beside to see Kate, holding a bundle of wood in her arms, brows scrunched. "Is golfing?" she said.

"That's what I hear," shrugged Boone, smiling.

Kate tilted her head again, as if to say "really?" Boone shrugged. "I don't know about you guys," he began, standing, "but I'm gonna go check this out."

"Wait for me, bonehead," said Shannon, grabbing her cover-up and standing. Kate paused for a second, then dropped her wood on the sand, leaving it there. She took a couple steps forward, then called out to Clementine.

"You coming?"

Clementine nodded. "Don't wait for me," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

Kate smiled and nodded, then walked off. Clementine took a breath, then got up from her spot on the warm sand, the breeze hitting her face as she walked a little up the beach, past the wreckage of an engine.

"Doctor playing golf," said a voice, in fake disbelief. Clementine stopped in her tracks, then turned to her left to see Sawyer leaning up against the engine. "Whoo! Boy howdy, now I've heard everything," he said sarcastically, a smile resting easy on his lips. He was playing with the bandages over his fingernails— the injuries were a not-so-pleasant gift from Sayid after the inhaler incident. "What's next, cop eating a donut?" he finished.

Clementine shook her head at him, smiling. "You want to come, you should just say so," she remarked, crossing her arms.

"Think I'll pass on that, Miss Sunshine. Not big on crowds." He looked to the side, still smiling. "And let's face it, crowd's not too hot on me, either."

Clementine and Sawyer looked into each other's eyes for just a second, both smiling. Clementine wasn't sure she'd ever really smiled at him, but his hair looked real nice in the golden light. He looked down at his fingernails. "One outcast to another," Clementine began, raising her brows, "I'd think about making more of an effort."

After copying his usual smug smirk, she walked away. "Duly noted!" he called after her. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away.

— ◒ —

Clementine walked over to where her 'friend' was waiting, just outside the stands nearest the start/finish line.  He was smiling at her, squinting from the afternoon sun.  She didn't smile back.  He was wearing a white suit jacket today with a blue dress shirt underneath, and had a few more grays in his black hair since she'd last seen him.  "Didn't know you were a driver, Charlotte," he said, as she stopped in front of him.

"I'm not," she replied.  "It's just a hobby."

He hummed.  "You seem to have a lot of hobbies, don't you?  I mean, between racing, rock climbing, bungee jumping... how do you find time for anything else?"

Clementine should've known he'd be watching her.  She'd done a good many jobs for him, but she never thought about the fact he might have eyes on her. And after all these years, she still didn't know his name.

"Are you going to give me the info on this job or not?" she said, getting a little annoyed.

He chuckled a little.  "I'm serious," he shrugged, eyebrows raised. "I want to know, Charlotte, why is it that you do all these things? I mean, surely, jumping off a bridge can't be considered fun."

Clementine sighed, looking to the side.  "Tell you what, sir," she said, looking back at him, "you tell me your name, and I'll satisfy your curiosity."

He raised his brows. "My name," he repeated, as if it sounded silly.

Clementine simply nodded.  "You first."

He thought about it for a second, then shrugged. "Nathaniel Bose," he said.

"How do I know you're not lying?"

Bose reached into his front pants pocket and took out his wallet, opened it, and showed her the ID that sat in the clear slot.  Nathaniel Bose, born February 2, 1946. From the state of Nevada. He closed it before she could read anything else.

"And how do I know that's not a fake?"

He shrugged. "I guess you'll just have to trust me."

Clementine took a breath in and out from her nose.  It was her turn now. "I do it because it's a distraction," she said.  "Maybe it is fun. I can't tell. But the adrenaline and the blood rush and the insane risk of everything I'm doing takes my mind off the bad things I've done. All the people I've killed.  I do it because I need it."

He nodded as if he'd known the entire time. "An adrenaline junkie," he said with a smile. "Well, I'm just glad it's not hard drugs. That stuff tends to mess with folks' aim."

"Do you have a job for me or not?"

"Yes, Charlotte. I do."

"Good."

— ◒ —

What Hurley had named the very first "Island Open" was set in one of the vast valleys below the mountains, a little further toward the caves.  It was three par, two holes, spread quite far apart and marked with tall, thin bamboo sticks with T-shirts flying from them.  Someone had brought their golf set on the plane, which had come in handy for this pasttime. Clementine hadn't seen so many smiles on people's faces in ages.

Some people in the small crowd were waiting for a turn, while others were just there to watch, like Clem and Shannon. Birds tweeted in the distance.  It was peaceful here.  No one looked tired anymore— in fact, the smiles on their faces made them seem more awake, as if this were more of a vacation and less of a plane wreck.

Hurley stepped up to the tee, golf club in hand. "Aw, crap," he muttered, as he swung and hit grass, not even touching the ball.  The crowd chuckled. "Do-over," Hurley called.

"It's a mulligan," commented Charlie, who was standing across from him.  Clem was pretty sure they were playing teams. "Mulligan," he repeated. "It's a gentleman's sport. You gotta get the words right.  Mulligan."  Hurley looked out towards the makeshift flag in the distance and aimed.  The wind blew, and he pushed a curly hair out of his face, then placed the club on the ground again. 

"You want to..." Charlie walked around behind Hurley, wanting to demonstrate. "Here, let me."  However, instead of taking the club like Clem thought he would, Charlie put his arms around Hurley's back and placed his hands on his wrists. 

"Dude, get away from me!" said Hurley immediately, standing straight. 

"Alright," said Charlie, going back to his original standing spot and putting his hands in the air.

"They're cute together," Shannon muttered to Clementine, as they continued to argue about Hurley's form. 

Clementine chuckled.  "Adorable.  First landmark, golf course, second landmark, gay bar?"

Shannon laughed.  Clem wasn't sure she'd ever heard anyone here really laugh. "Yeah, right," she said.  "You've seen Charlie and Claire, haven't you?"

"I have," Clem nodded.  "They're too cute together for Charlie to be gay."

"Bi, maybe," shrugged Shannon with a smile.

Clementine looked him up and down, from his frosted tips, to his ringed fingers, to the way his hip jutted out when he stood.  "He was a rock star," she added.

Hurley swung again— grass once more. "You're breathing out," said Charlie.  "When you go up—" He breathed in heavily, miming bringing up the club, "then down—" He breathed out, swinging his imaginary driver.

"I think I'm just gonna hand this over to someone else," said Hurley, looking over to the crowd.

"Suit yourself," shrugged Charlie.  "Michael," he called, "it's your shot.  You're up."

Michael walked away from Walt and Hurley handed him the club, then joined the rest of the crowd.  "You did better than I could've," Clem told him. 

"Yeah, right," said Hurley, rolling his eyes. 

"I'm serious," said Clem.  "Never touched a golf club a day in my life."

"You should take a swing," Shannon told her.

"Not for a million bucks."

— ◒ —

Charlie was up to putt, the ball only a few feet away from the flag.  It was Jack and Michael against him and Hurley.  The Brit was kneeling on the ground, head on the grass as he eyed the ball.  He ripped a blade of grass out of the way and threw it aside.  Michael scoffed.

"Guys, please," Charlie said, eyeing the ball and adjusting his stance.  "I've never made par on a course before." He hit, and the ball rolled across the grass as Hurley lifted the flag stick.  It rolled to a stop from friction only a foot away from the hole. "Ah, no!" he groaned, hitting the putter on the ground and looking up at the sky.

"Oh, dude, you were robbed," said Hurley.

"Bollocks," Charlie said.  "See that?"

Some of the crowd groaned playfully, others smiled— Jack and Michael included.  She'd seen a few smiles on the island, but never Jack.  Not for real.  He actually looked like he was having fun.  "'Kay, Jack, it's up to you," Michael told his teammate, gesturing to the ball on the ground. "Sink this, you get to wear the blazer." Michael rubbed his hands together happily as Jack stepped up to tee.

"No pressure," commented Kate.

"Yeah, no pressure," added Charlie, handing him the putter.  Everyone was quiet as Jack concentrated, taking aim.

"Five bucks says he sinks it," said Hurley, breaking the short silence.

Michael laughed.

"Mate, you betting against me?" Charlie said from the crowd.

"Sorry, dude," shrugged Hurley, "but you're a duffer like me."

"Make it ten and you're on," added Boone.  Shannon looked at Clem, chuckling a little.

"I don't have any cash, but I'll bet my dinner on the doc," added another man, raising a hand.

"Oh," said Jack with a smile, pointing at him.

"I got two tubes of sunscreen and a flashlight says he chokes."

Everyone's heads turned to see Sawyer standing just outside the crowd.  He'd just walked up from the beach and had a real grin on his face. There was silence for a few seconds.  Some people were still smiling.  Others— such as Boone— were not. Sawyer looked down, then nodded, taking a step as if he were about to walk away.

"I'll take that action," said Clementine quickly, before he could take another foot off the ground.  The blond looked up at her and smiled.

"Yeah," said Boone.  "Yeah, me too."

"You just bet on Jack, dumbass," Shannon remarked.

"We need the sunscreen, princess," he replied, tilting his head.

Everyone turned their gazes back to Jack, who was ready to swing.  He raised the club up the slightest bit, then hit the ball, and slowly, but surely, it fell right into the hole.  There was clapping and cheering.  Kate walked up to Jack and put her arms around him just as Charlie and Hurley shook his hands to say Good game. Shannon laughed and Boone crossed his arms, smiling with his head high. 

After giggling with Shannon a bit, Clementine turned to look at Sawyer, whose eyes seemed to have been fixed on her for the last few seconds.  She took a few steps over to him, still smiling.  "You really gonna fork the sunscreen over?" she asked him. 

He shrugged. "A bet's a bet."

"You took my advice."

He tilted his head. "Don't get an ego on me, Sunshine."

"I'll play you next," she said, raising her brows.  "For the cigarettes, maybe."

He scoffed.  "You ever played golf before, Tiger?"

"No," she shook her head.  "But I got a feeling you haven't, either."

Chapter Text

It was quiet in the woods. The sun was setting, and its golden rays still echoed through the trunks of trees, their leaves falling in the autumn wind.  Northern California was a little colder than Torrence this time of year, and the trees here actually turned that beautiful shade of orange that she remembered from living up here during her childhood. After working multiple jobs since her mother kicked her to the curb, she'd actually bought herself a little trailer house. It was a ratty old place and a ratty old trailer park, too, but she actually had a real roof over her head for the first time in 6 years.

The first thing she decided to do with her very little amount of free time? Go hunting.

Clementine knew what she was doing all too well. Before her sister died, they went much too often for her liking. She'd tracked, cooked, and harmed, but never killed. Maybe this time she'd actually be able to do it, without her dad over her shoulder picking at her every move. It was a hunting grounds, so all she had to do was pay an entrance fee, follow a couple rules, and she had free range of the entire property. Plus she could take all her game home for dinner, which wasn't a bad deal.

Clementine didn't have the money for a hunting rifle, especially not as nice a one as she'd rented from the hunting range here. But she had one now at her side, along with a few rounds of bullets. She was hoping for deer, but she knew there were wild pigs around here, too, and she'd be happy with one of those. She'd been out for a good few hours now without a sight of either.

It was quiet. Charlotte supposed sunset on a Wednesday wasn't a popular time to go to the hunting range— it was already dinnertime— but her dinner tonight would be the animal she would be winning. There was a rustling in the bushes nearby. Clem stayed quiet, raising the rifle steadily, but not looking through the sight on the top of the gun just yet. She paused, getting a glimpse of a doe hiding among the flora and fauna.

Even Charlotte herself was surprised at how quiet she was. This gun had quite a range, and Clementine knew for a fact she had quite the aim. The deer was turned away from her, looking out into the distance at something else in the forest. She saw only its head and neck peeking out above the bushes, but that was enough.

Clementine put the stock up toward her cheek, peering through the sight at the top of the rifle. She knew her aim tended to be a little to the left, so she corrected, her finger resting comfortably on the trigger. She took one step forward, steadying herself. The deer in the distance began taking a few steps forward, perhaps seeing or hearing something. Charlotte didn't want to allow it to get any further.

After assuring the deer was still in range, she pulled the trigger, twice, quickly. There was a thump and a whimper, and the deer fell.

Birds flew away from the earsplitting noise as Clementine walked past the bushes, looking for her prize, shotgun at her side. But when she finally came up to the dead creature, there was no longer a deer, but instead, a young girl. She wasn't bleeding, but her lips were blue and her hair was wet. Trina.

Suddenly, the girl took a deep breath, spitting out water and sitting up. Clementine stumbled backward with a gasp, her eyes wide. The girl still looked half dead, the circles under her eyes a deep purple and her fingertips pruney. Clementine walked backwards as the girl began to stand, but suddenly, they weren't feet apart anymore. Instead, Trina grabbed Clementine by the shoulders, her hands cold, her gaze even colder. "Stay with me, Clementine," she echoed.

Then there was another gunshot from behind, and Trina fell, her head bleeding out onto the ground.

— ◒ —

Clementine woke up screaming, loud, and didn't realize where she was and that it had all been a sick nightmare until she ran out of breath. Three people came stumbling into her tent— first Shannon, then Sawyer, then Kate, all wide eyed.

Clementine was breathing heavily, staring at the people around her. Shannon knelt at her friend's side and Sawyer went around to her other side, placing a hand at her back. He had a knife in his hand. "Hey, hey," he said, tilting his head. He wasn't smiling. "What is it?"

Clementine shook her head as her breathing slowed. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing. Where'd you get that knife?"

Sawyer pointed toward the edge of her tent where a pile of her clothes and shoes rested— it was where she'd put the hunting knife Locke had given her. Clementine had made her sleeping area from a stretch of windows from the plane, then placed a tarp over it as an awning and held it up with bamboo branches from the forest. It was her best attempt at any kind of cover from the weather, and she'd made the sand as comfortable as she possibly could.

"It wasn't nothing," said Kate, shaking her head. She was standing just outside her sleeping area.

"Just a bad dream," said Clem quietly.

"You were screaming bloody murder," said Shannon, brows raised. "Have you been sleeping okay?"

"Until now," said Clementine. It wasn't exactly truthful— it had been a good week now since her last good sleep, just after the day on their golf course.

"What'd you see?" asked Kate.

"I... don't remember," she lied.

"You want to sleep closer to Boone's and my tent?" Shannon offered. "Being closer might help."

"Thanks, Shannon," said Clem, smiling weakly at the blonde, "but I'll be okay. It was just a bad dream."

"You sure?" asked Kate.

"I'm sure," nodded Clementine. "Thank you."

Kate nodded, and Shannon and Sawyer both stood up. Sawyer put her knife back on top of her pile of things. She smiled at the three of them as a final thank you, and they walked off, back to their respective sleeping areas. Shannon and Kate whispered among themselves.

Clementine laid back down for a few minutes, waiting for the others to fall back asleep. She was a little embarrassed she'd woken up screaming at the top of her lungs. She hadn't had a nightmare about her sister since she was nineteen. Why would they start again now? And here, of all places, where she could wake people up?

Clem did not go back to sleep, afraid she might see her sister's corpse again if she closed her eyes. Instead, she walked down the beach toward the water. There were hundreds of stars overhead, glimmering over the tides as the water pulled back and forth. She just watched it, trying to focus on anything other than the nightmare she'd just had.

After a few minutes of sitting there alone, she heard steps in the sand behind her. She knew the person wasn't trying to sneak up on her, especially since they took a seat on the sand right next to her. It was Sawyer, cigarettes in hand.

"Figured you'd need one of these," he said, taking one out of the pack and handing it to her.

She took it, half-smiling. She couldn't see his face all too well in only the starlight, but she was sure he was smiling, too.  "Thanks," she said. He took out the matchbook she'd gotten from Seaside in Sydney and struck a match, lighting her cigarette first, then his own. The first puff was like bliss, even the smallest bit of nicotine calming her nerves and putting her body a little more at peace.

"So," said Sawyer, after taking a drag from his own cigarette. "Nightmare, huh?" Instead of at her, he was looking out at the ocean.

"What do you care?" she said.

"I care when you wake me up in the middle of the night screaming like you're in a horror flick," he said, as if it were obvious. "Thought you were being attacked or something."

"Sounds like you care about a little more than your sleep," she said, tilting her head.  She took another drag of the cigarette.  It was the only source of light that wasn't in the sky above them.

He shook his head. "Takes a lot of shut-eye to look this good."

Clementine just rolled her eyes.  There was silence, but it wasn't long before he spoke up again.  "So what're you dreamin' about that's making you scream like that?"  There was a different sort of tone in his voice— not his usual, playful tone, as if he wanted to find out something he could make fun of or use against you.  He was softer now when he spoke, and wasn't taunting her or even looking at her. 

"I don't remember," she said simply.

Finally, he looked at her, brows raised in disbelief. "You remember."

"Alright, I remember," she huffed. "But it's not something I like to talk about."

Sawyer nodded. "Alright," he said, turning back to look at the water.

"You're not gonna bug me about it?"

He shrugged.

"Too tired, maybe," she assumed.  "You're more persistent when the sun's out."

He chuckled a little.  "'Least you know I'm no vampire."

Clementine took another drag of her cigarette. They sat there for a minute or two in silence.  Clementine was quite surprised that Sawyer hadn't kept bugging her about her nightmare, and she was more surprised that he was even sitting with her.  The man seemed to value his sleep— she saw him taking naps in his tent during the day often, lying on his airplane seats and shutting his eyes. But she was glad she had some company, even if it had to be Sawyer.

"Y'know," said Sawyer, breaking their time of silence, "I got something that'll wake us up."

Clem looked at him, raising a brow.  "And what's that?"

Sawyer turned beside him and from the sand grabbed two airplane bottles of liquor.  Clem couldn't read the labels, but whatever it was, it was probably strong. She smiled. "It's probably four in the morning, Sawyer," she said.

"Ain't that the best time to party?" he said, handing her one. 

She sighed, smiling, then held her cigarette with her ring finger and pinky so she could open the bottle.  "What should we drink to?" she asked.

Sawyer thought for a moment. "No more nightmares?" he suggested.

"Sure."

They clinked their bottles together, then both took a long sip— whiskey, Clementine deduced, after tasting its sharpness on her tongue. She winced, then swallowed. Sawyer was smirking at her. "Not a whiskey fan?"

Clementine cleared her throat, then laughed a little. "Not usually."

"Good to know," said Sawyer with a nod.

"You're not gonna go back to bed?" she asked him, after the sharp taste began to wear off her tongue. "What about that beauty sleep you were going on about?"

He shrugged, looking out again at the vast ocean, the waves glittering as they came up, then falling back into shadow as they crashed on the beach. "This is more fun," he said simply.

Clementine, too, looked back out upon the water, taking another drag of her cigarette, then blowing smoke.

— ◒ —

After assuring the deer was still in range, she pulled the trigger, twice, quickly. There was a thump and a whimper, and the deer fell.

After securing her prize, she readied herself to cut and gut it.  After making her incision, there was another noise in the woods. Before she could put her guard up, a man came out from between the trees, with black and gray hair, his hunting outfit neat and orderly. He carried a shiny, expensive-looking hunting rifle at his side.

"Quite a shot," he complimented, looking from Clem to the doe on the ground.

"Thank you," she said.

"I can help, if you like. I've had no luck today." He chuckled. "Figure I might as well help someone else bring home their dinner."

"Actually," said Clementine, "you can take some for yourself, if you want. I'm just one woman. Couldn't eat all this venison on my own." She smiled at him, and he knelt down next to her, swinging his gun around to his back and taking out a sharp hunting knife.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Positive."

As they cut into the deer, prepping it to take back to the grounds house, they made small talk. "You go hunting often?" he asked her.

"I used to," she replied. "I haven't been in a long time."

"Well, you're a hell of a shooter. Did you go to an academy?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "My dad taught me all this stuff. Usually we would hunt with knives, but he took me to the gun range sometimes, so I figured I might try a shotgun for once."

"And you say you haven't been in a while?"

"Not since I was... maybe 15."

"What do you do for work?"

"I'm a waitress."

He raised his brows. "I really thought you were going to say something like park ranger or camp counselor."

Clem chuckled. "Nope," she said. "Definitely unqualified for either of those things."

"You like being a waitress?"

Clementine  looked  away from the deer and up at the man, whose name she was now realizing she didn't know. She scrunched her brows. "What's with all these questions?"

He had a sort of look in his eyes, as if he knew her, or something about her.  He ignored her previous statement, and continued, saying, "Because if you're not too fond of the restaurant industry, I may have another job for you."

Clementine was still confused.  Who was this guy?  And, on second thought, where did he even come from?  The hunting grounds were empty today.  The man at the gates told her she was the first one in that evening. But she was intrigued by his offer. "And what kind of job is that?" she asked. 

"The hunting kind."

"Hunt," she repeated, brows raised. "As a job."

He nodded.  "What's your name, young woman?"

"Charlotte," she said simply.

"Nice to meet you, Charlotte." He put out a hand, covered in deer blood, for her to shake.  It didn't disgust her— her hands were covered in it, too.

"What's your name?"

He chuckled.  "That's a question for another time.  You can call me 'sir.'"

She thinned her eyes.  "Why?"

"Do you want this job or not, Charlotte?"

Clementine looked down at his hand, then up into his eyes.  She put their hands together, the deer's warm blood a sort of sealant for their deal. "I want it."

"Good."

They shook on it.

— ◒ —

They stayed there until the sun rose, then got restless as its rays began to come up over the mountains and the jungle behind them. While Sawyer went up the beach to go collect firewood after sunrise, Clementine traveled into the valley where Hurley had created his golf course, just to take a few shots.  She was alone there, and the clubs had been left by the first flag.  She just hit a few balls, and some rocks she found, too, just seeing how far she could go. The answer? Not very far.

She was about to leave and decide that golf just wasn't her sport when she saw a figure come out from the woods. "Hi," said the man. He had brown hair and a sort of nerdy smile. He looked older, maybe 40s, and he was wearing a collared shirt and holding a few mangoes in his arms.

"Hi," she said, giving him a straight-mouthed smile. "Can, I, um... help you?"

"No, no," he said, chuckling. "Sorry, I just couldn't help but notice your swing, there."

"Oh," said Clem, looking down at the club in her hands. "Yeah, I'm not the greatest."

"Just a little flawed," he said. He put down the mangoes and walked toward her. "Mind if I take a swing?"

"Not at all," she said, handing him the driver. "I think I'm just about finished, anyway."

She stepped aside and crossed her arms, watching. "What's your name?" she called to him, as he raised the club and swung, hitting the golf-ball sized rock hundreds of yards in the distance.

"Ethan," he replied, grabbing another one from the pile Clem had collected. "You?"

"Clementine," she introduced. "That went far," she complimented.

"I played a little in college," he said, glancing at her. Clementine raised her brows. "I know, what a geek, right? College golf."

Clementine chuckled. "Well, I didn't go to college, so now you've got two up on me."

He swung again, another very far hit. "What's the first?" he asked.

"Golf skill."

Ethan chuckled.

— ◒ —

After their chat, Clem trekked back through the way she'd come and down towards the beach. She exited the thick jungle only few feet away from a tree, in front of which Sawyer was standing, chopping the wood he'd collected. He didn't seem to notice her coming out of the bushes. She walked towards him, then leaned up against the tree trunk, watching.

"See something you like?" he said after a moment, swinging the axe again. He didn't have a shirt on, and she could see the top of his boxers above the waistline of his jeans.

Clementine chuckled. "Nah," she said. "Just window shopping."

He glanced back at her and smiled, then continued with the wood. It was only about a minute before he spoke up again. "You gonna keep standing there like a creep, or you gonna come help me out?"

"A creep?" she repeated, brows raised. "Let's not forget which one of us demanded the other make out with him in trade for medicine he didn't even have."

He pointed the axe down, turned around, and smiled at her. "I didn't forget," he said. "Looking for part two?"

"You wish." She shook her head. "Don't mind me," she continued. "I'm bored. I'm just watching."

He raised his brows. "Is entertainment all I am to you, Sunshine?"

She nodded. "Most of the time."

He turned back to his wood, and raised the axe to chop again, but was interrupted by a third voice. It was a larger, curly-haired man wearing a green shirt— Hurley. "Hey, guys," he said, a little awkwardly. He had a small notepad in his hand and a pen in the other.

"Hey, Hurley," said Clementine, pushing her hair out of her face. The breeze was strong today. It was nice. "What's up?"

"I'm um, just wondering if I could ask you guys some questions," he said, squinting from the sun. He kept glancing at Sawyer and the axe in his hand. "I'm doing a sort of registry thing, just trying to keep track of people. Jack and I thought it might be a good idea."

Sawyer opened his mouth to say something, but Clementine cut in before he could get a word out. "Sure," she said. "What brought all this on? If you don't mind me asking."

"Well," he looked down, then back up. "Claire... got attacked last night."

"What?" said Clem. "Is she alright? Where is she now?"

"She's okay," Hurley assured her. "She's at the caves. But no one knows who it was. She said someone was trying to hurt her kid."

"Hurt her baby? Why?" Clementine continued. She wasn't exactly sure why— Hurley wouldn't know all these answers.

He shrugged. "I just thought a census might be a good idea," he said. "Might help us keep track of who's where."

Clementine took a breath. "Yeah," she said, quietly. "Yeah, that's a good idea. Go ahead," she nodded, gesturing to his notebook.

"Mkay," he said. "Um, your full name? Clementine..." He waited for her to finish.

"Oh, Clementine's not my name," she said, shaking her head. "It's a nickname. My name is Charlotte Roberts."

"Charlotte Roberts," he repeated, writing. "And um, where are you from, Charlotte? Or Clementine."

Clem smiled. "Torrence, California," she said.

"Okay," he nodded. "And, um, reason for travel?"

"To California? Or to Australia?"

"Australia."

She glanced at Sawyer, then back at Hurley. "I was, um... visiting my boyfriend."

Hurley nodded, writing. "Thanks," he said. After finishing up, he flipped a page, then turned to Sawyer. His brows were scrunched in disapproval, and his arms crossed, the axe now resting on the ground.

"I don't like people in my business, Dough Boy."

"I'll answer for him," said Clementine, brushing him off. Hurley nodded. "His name's—" She cut herself off, finding James's glare in the corner of her eye. Don't, it told her. She let him keep his peace, and turned back to Hurley. "His name's Sawyer Ford," she finished. "He's from Tennessee. And—" She paused again, looking back at the blond, whose expression was a little softer now. "Actually, I don't know why he was in Australia."

Hurley and Charlotte both waited for his answer. "Business," he said simply.

Clementine looked back at Hurley and shrugged. "Good enough for me," he said. "Thanks, guys."

"Sure," said Clementine with a smile. Hurley walked off, back down toward the beach, and started talking with someone else on the way down. Scott, maybe? Or Steve. Maybe.

Clementine turned back to face Sawyer. "You're mean," she said.

He raised his brows. "You're just realizing?"

Clementine rolled her eyes. She walked over to him, and he began to smile, but instead of getting close, she walked right past him, picking up the axe. He scoffed, but was still smiling at her. She raised it, then swung, chopping a thinner branch in half. It was still a little big, so she moved and repositioned her cut. "You told him you were visiting your boyfriend," called Sawyer over the noise. "That true?"

She swung the axe again, going halfway through a thicker branch. "Yeah," she said.  She raised it again, then swung, but missed her original cut, and went halfway through another part of the tree.

"And what's up with him?"

Clementine huffed, rolling her eyes. She raised the axe to swing again, but two hands stopped her. He was holding onto her wrist, their faces inches away from each other. She stared blankly. "I'll tell you my business if you tell me yours," he said, tilting his head.

Clem raised her brows, lowering the axe. He let go of her. "Really," she said, her tone disbelieving.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said with a smile, drawing an x over his chest.

Clementine sighed, rolling her eyes. She stuck the axe into the sand and walked over to the big tree nearby, then took a seat at the base. Sawyer followed suit, waiting. "His name was Harry," she said. "We'd been together... I don't know, actually. A little more than a year." She played with the sand between her legs. "I met him in Australia.  I used to visit him all the time."

"Did you love him?"

"I..." Clementine took a breath, then bit the inside of her cheek. "No," she said.  "No, I... broke up with him the night he told me he loved me.  I left him a note and took the first plane home."

He blew air out of his nose, amused.  "Well, he sounds like a lucky guy," he remarked.

Clementine looked up, unimpressed.

"What'd he do to you?" Sawyer asked.

Clementine shook her head.  "Nothing," she said simply. "I just... didn't want it anymore."

"You didn't want it," he repeated, his tone in disbelief.

"It's your turn," she said, a little annoyed. "What was your business?"

He clicked his tongue.  They seemed to trade mindsets as he looked down at the ground and she looked up at him intently. "I went looking for Sawyer."

Clem's eyes widened.  "You did? Did you find him?"

There was a short pause.  The wind seemed to whisper to them, but Clementine knew it was just her lack of sleep.  By his silence, she already knew the answer, but she waited patently anyway.  "No," he said, as the breeze blew sand away between his fingers.

Clementine nodded. "Eventually," she assured him.  "Once we get off craphole island."

He chuckled a little.

Chapter Text

After her conversation with Sawyer, Clementine went back down to the beach and found Shannon— which was a surprise, since she thought Boone and her were moving to the caves.  But after hearing about Claire's incident, Shannon refused, and her brother decided to stay with her.  Later in the day, she ventured up to the caves to bring some water down to the beach— it hadn't rained in a few days, so Clem decided it was the least she could do.  Plus, she was hoping to find Claire, maybe talk to her a little.

But when she got to the caves, instead of the peaceful environment they had around most of the time, she found intense commotion. Hurley, Jack, and Kate were talking urgently to each other. Sayid was back— and he was laying on the ground, half passed out, as Jack dressed a large wound on his leg.

"Who wasn't on the plane?"

"Ethan. The Canadian guy. He's not on the manifest!"

"Where the hell is he?"

"I don't know! I saw him yesterday, but now—"

"Has anyone seen Ethan?"

"Sayid's leg..."

"Has anyone seen Ethan?!"

Michael stepped up onto the rocky platform.  Clementine watched from some feet away among the rest of the caves' residents.  "Yeah, he went to get some wood," he said, pointing behind him toward the entrance. "Took off on the path to the beach.  Is he okay? What happened?"

Jack looked down at the ground, his brows slowly raising.  "Where's Charlie?" he said, stepping away from Sayid.

"What?" said Kate.

"Where's Charlie?" Jack walked right past her.

"He went after Claire," said Locke.

There was a few moments of silence. All eyes were on Jack, who began running out of the cave.  Locke glanced at Kate, then followed behind him. There was a couple more seconds of silence and disbelief.  "Can someone explain to me what the hell is going on?" Michael said. "What's wrong with Ethan?"

Hurley shook his head.  "It doesn't matter," he said. "He's not one of us."

"Not one of us?" Michael repeated.

"But he's been with us for days," someone else butted in.  "How did he get here? Where did he come from?"

"I don't know."

"Is he the one who hurt Claire?" added Clementine loudly.  No one answered for a few seconds.

"Yeah," said Kate finally.  "Yeah, he probably is."

— ◒ —

Clementine and Kate went back to the beach.  The other survivors had to know about Ethan— they had a right to.  They asked everyone they could find if they'd seen him at all, if he'd said anything odd, if they'd spoken to him recently.  Ethan hadn't slipped up once— no one knew where he was, and he'd never said anything out of the ordinary.  On paper, he was blameless.

On the manifest, he wasn't.

Kate went back to the caves to report back, hoping Jack or Locke had come back from their urgent search for Claire and Charlie. When Boone and Shannon had heard the news, Boone immediately started toward the caves.  When Shannon asked where he was going, he told her he was going to get water, and she followed him.  Clementine was pretty sure he wasn't going to get any water— he probably had some other ideas.

As she'd suspected, Shannon came stomping back onto the beach about 45 minutes later, saying Boone had gone off with Locke and Kate on what she called Boone's "adventurer fantasy."

"I think you're underestimating him," said Clementine.

"Trust me," she said, "the only thing Boone knows how to do is pay people off. And I doubt Ethan, or whoever that guy really is, is going to want any money."

"He's helping," said Clementine. "If he wants to go, he should go."

Shannon huffed, then walked away towards her sleeping area.

Clementine felt restless, beginning to pace the edge of the shore. The water crashed onto her legs, wetting the hems of her pants, but she didn't really notice, the thoughts about Charlie and Claire and Ethan running rampant in her mind. Where had he come from? And what did he want with Claire? He had definitely been the one who attacked her last night. And Charlie— what would he do with Charlie? Did he take them somewhere? Was he some sort of insane killer, stranded here for years, like the French woman they'd heard? 

And, God— her, too... who was she?  Was she even still on the island?  Surely, she was never rescued, or they'd have made an effort to shut down her transmission, right?  Did Ethan know her?  Was it all connected somehow? And poor Claire, poor Charlie— they'd been together when it had happened, and no one knew where they were or what had happened to them.  They weren't anywhere close, or Jack and Locke would have found them earlier.  They wouldn't have needed a whole search party.  They wouldn't need to track. She hoped they were okay.

A voice interrupted her raging mind. "Practicing for the marching band?"

She stopped walking. "I'm really not in the mood, Sawyer," she snapped.

He sighed, then took a few steps closer to her, pulling a small box and a book of matches out of his pocket.  "Want a cigarette?"

She looked into his eyes.  He wasn't smiling anymore, but he didn't look upset or angry at anything. For once, he actually seemed patient. Maybe... no, not that. "Yeah," she said softly, nodding. He offered one to her, and she took it, saying, "Thanks." He nodded back, then lit a match, putting it to the end of the cigarette in her mouth. With one puff, the need to pace the beach diminished.

Without another cocky remark or even a nickname, Sawyer gave her a halfhearted smile, then walked away, back up the beach towards his tent.

— ◒ —

A little more than an hour later, rain began to pour down in sheets, heavy over their makeshift beach village. Clementine holed herself up underneath her own tent, having smoked her cigarette to a stub earlier. She preferred to be alone right now, especially during a thunderstorm like this.

Clem wasn't a fan of thunder or lightning. The sounds rung in her ears, and though there was no lightning this evening, there was most definitely thunder, which tended to spook her every time it banged against the gray sky. It was a little embarrassing, honestly. What 30 year old woman was afraid of thunder? She stuck it out alone, hoping the storm would be over soon.

Only about 20 minutes after it started, the rain drizzled to a stop, leaving the air humid and sticky behind it. With the thunder off her mind, Clementine remembered all the other things she had to worry about. For one, she'd forgotten Sayid had arrived back, and wondered why he'd come back after alienating himself from the group. What he'd done to Sawyer wasn't exactly humane, but Sawyer was a cocky jerk, and she found herself wanting to torture him at times, too. Maybe not today, though.

She trotted herself up to the caves to go find him.  He was resting on the rocky platform she'd last seen him on, all of Jack's belongings and medical supplies surrounding him. He wasn't sleeping, though, and looked up at Clementine when she walked in. She sat on the ground nearby, saying, "Hey, Sayid. How you doing?"

"As well as I can be," he said simply. He sounded tired, his voice strained. His leg was bandaged and he had a few other scratches and bruises here and there. His black curly hair was tied back in a ponytail.

She bit her lip, nodding, then looked back at him. "You were gone for a week, Sayid," she said. "You had me— all of us, honestly— worried to death. Where did you go?"

He sighed, looking down.  "I found her," he said. "The French woman."

Clem scrunched her brows.  "What?"

Sayid looked back up at her.  "Her name is Danielle Rousseau. She's still here, on the island," he began. "A few miles east of here.  She shipwrecked 16 years ago."

"Sixteen..." Clementine muttered to herself.  "God."  She hoped they wouldn't be here for 16 years. "How? The thing about her team— what killed them?"

"She did."

"What?"

"She says they got sick. She said she had to kill them. And..." He trailed off, looking down.

"What, Sayid?"

"She says she hears whispers in the jungle.  She says we're not alone on this island.  And I don't know if I believe her... but we don't know where Ethan came from.  I don't even know if she's telling the truth, but I do know she's not exactly..."

"Sane?" Clementine added.

"Yes," he said. "That."

"Do you think there are other people on this island?"

"I think to assume we are alone would be stupid now."

"Where did they come from?"

"I don't know, Charlotte."

Clementine ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a breath. "How did you hurt your leg?"

"She tied me up," he explained. "She had some sort of electrical shocking mechanism."

"She tortured you?"

Sayid looked down. "Cosmic karma."

Clementine scrunched her brows, and Sayid looked up at her. "Sawyer came to visit," he explained. "He had many of the same questions you do. But he didn't do anything to retaliate for what I did to him. He said karma took care of it. I suppose he was right."

"Don't think of yourself like that. You did what you had to."

"But I didn't want to."

"Sawyer tends to deserve it."

"You can be a very cheerful presence when you want to be, Charlotte," Sayid commented, chuckling a little.  Clem assumed it was the first time he'd smiled in a little while.  "I appreciate your coming to visit."

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay," she said, standing.  "And for what it's worth— I like having you around, Sayid. Maybe don't run off again."

He smiled. "I'll try my best."

As their conversation came to a close, there was a sudden shout— Jack's voice. "I need water!"  He and Kate were back, with a third person hanging weakly over their shoulders. It was Charlie, bruised and breathless. He was barely walking, and all three of them were dirty and muddy— from the rainstorm, probably.  But Charlie was back.  And Claire was not.

All heads were turned to them.  Someone rushed up with a bottle of water, while Sayid moved closer to where Clementine was sitting to make room for Jack to treat Charlie.  Mostly, he was just dirty, and breathing very slowly and heavily.  "Just like that, Charlie," said Jack.  Kate fed him some water, and he took the bottle from her, giving her a nod.  He was sitting up.  The most notable injury was on Charlie's neck, a dark blue and purple bruise in a curved line all around his throat.

Charlie had been hung.  And he'd survived.

"What happened?" asked Clementine, rushing up to Kate. Jack treated the bruising on Charlie's neck, cleaning any rope burn or scraping.

"We found him just... just hanging there," said Kate, not looking at the girl next to her.  "Jack got him down.  We thought he was dead for so long.  But he... Jack brought him back."

Clementine let out a sigh, looking over at Charlie.

"Claire," said Clementine.  "Where's Claire?"

Kate looked over at her.  There was sorrow in her eyes as she shook her head.  "We didn't find her."

"And Locke? Boone?"

"Still out there," she said, standing up to give Jack and Charlie some space. Clem followed her. "We split up. I don't know."

Claire missing.  Locke and Boone still out there.  An insane French woman living somewhere in the jungle.  Ethan, or whoever the hell he was, kidnapping pregnant women and hanging innocent people.  A phantom sickness that had infected Rousseau's crew. Oh, and not to mention whatever murderous monster was living in the jungle.  Any answer they got seemed to bring back more questions.  Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.

And where the hell had that polar bear come from?

Chapter Text

Clementine was up early that morning— the sun was only half risen, and no one else seemed to be awake. She found a few browning, dented bananas left in their stash, and decided to venture out into the jungle as the sun began to rise in search of breakfast. She took a tote bag with her from one of the piles of supplies and set out.

Claire had been gone for four days now. Locke and Boone had been going out the past few nights, every day, looking for her, but there wasn't a trail to follow anymore, and no one knew where to look. There was a sort of melancholy haze over all the survivors— especially Charlie, who had barely said a word to anyone for the last four days. Clementine didn't want to lost hope, but it seemed to be happening all on its own.

Their group of 46 had been eating so much in the last weeks that the trees closest to the beach had all been picked clean. Still hungry, Clem found a mango tree that was ripe and luscious only about half a mile away, but the best fruit was up high, and if she wanted to grab extra for the group, she'd have to climb.

It wasn't a difficult feat— she'd been an outdoorsy kid, so climbing trees was something she knew like the back of her hand. In only about 5 minutes, she was up on a rather plentiful branch. She filled her bag to the brim as she made her way back down the tree trunk. But after hopping down and turning to make her way back toward camp, there was a creak in the jungle— the sound of a twig breaking. Clementine whipped around, her eyes darting through the trees and searching for any sign of life.  A boar, maybe, or another creature.  Maybe whatever monster was living around here.

There was another rustling.  Keeping her eyes on the direction the sound had come from, she bent down to the ground and picked up a rock, then threw it in that direction. There was a thud, and she stepped back, readying herself to run just as she heard a voice say, "Ow! Son of a bitch!"

Sawyer stumbled out of the jungle holding his knee.  Clementine scoffed.  "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, brows raised.

"What the hell are you doing?" she repeated, walking toward him.

"It's my knee. You practically busted my knee!"

"Are you stalking me now?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip.

"Stalking you?" he said, fairly offended. "I was protecting you."

She scoffed again. "From what, Southern perverts?"

He sighed.  "Yeah, whatever," he said, walking past her.  "I can't believe you."

She glanced down at his knee.  She hadn't even ripped through his pants, and he surely wasn't bleeding. "It's not that bad," she said, smiling.

"It's my knee, I'll tell you how bad it is," he said, turning to her. Clementine just smiled.  "The hell you doin' all the way out here anyway?"

She shrugged, as they began walking. "Looking for breakfast," she said. "This is the only place the trees haven't been picked clean."

"Yeah, well you shouldn't be out here alone," he said.  "Not after what happened—"

"Oh, come on, James, have a little faith," she said, turning to him.  "I can take care of myself."

"Oh," he scoffed.  "'Course.  'I don't need protecting,'" he mocked. "'I can take care of myself.'" Clementine laughed.  "'Me Clem. Me throw rock.'"

When she took her next step, Clementine heard the soft flow of water, a calm trickle somewhere in the distance. "Shh," she said, putting a hand on his chest, hoping to listen more.  Where was it coming from?  More fresh water was always needed.

"What, you smell blood on the wind?" said Sawyer, rolling his eyes.

"You don't hear that?" she said.  They glanced at each other, and the look on Sawyer's face told her just what she needed to know.  She continued walking, faster now.  Sawyer limped after her, still on about his knee.  The water became louder, heavier. She pushed away some hanging vines from trees and a bush of ferns, finally revealing the source.

They'd walked into a gorgeous grotto.  A waterfall cascaded over brown, mossy rock and fell into a wide pool of green water.  Though it wasn't exactly clear, it was fresh water, much cooler in the secluded area than on the rest of the island. It had a rocky shore littered with ferns and other plants, and the water from the falls pouring into the lake made a peaceful sound.

After they'd stopped and stared in awe for a few seconds, Sawyer stepped past her, limping down the rocks. "What are you doing?" asked Clementine, walking after him.  He stopped on the edge of the water and began taking his shirt off.

"I need to soak my sore knee," he said. 

Clementine took off her bag and placed it on the rocks, brows raised.  Was now really the time to go for a swim?  "Come on, Sunshine," he said, taking off his shoes, "After all we've been through on this damn island, don't we deserve something good?"

Clementine smiled, looking down at the ground.

"What, you're gonna say no?" he said. "You some sort of navel-gazing, no-fun, mopey type?"

Clementine laughed, and the smile didn't leave her face as she began taking off her shoes and socks.  Sawyer headed into the water in his jeans just as she began taking her pants off.  He looked over at her as she tossed them to the side, then took off her flannel, leaving her only in her underwear and tank top.  "Well," he said with a smile, looking her up and down.

"Don't ruin it," she said, holding up her hand to him as she carefully stepped down into the water. It was cold, but nice, especially as the sun was rising over the island. 

"It's chilly," said Sawyer.  His hair was already wet and he was far enough into the water where only his head and shoulders floated above it.  "Come on, girl!" he called, smiling at her. She laughed again, diving into the water swimming over to him.  She pushed her hair back when she came up.  The water was a much needed cool down.  "It's nice, huh?" he said to her, his voice louder now that they were closer to the falls.

"Yeah," she said. "It's really nice."

"C'mere," he said, motioning her closer.  She pushed through the water, and once in arms reach, Sawyer pushed her down underneath him, beaming. 

She coughed as she came back up, but nothing could stop her smile now, no matter what he did.  "You jerk," she said playfully, going over to him and putting hands on his shoulders.

"Come on, what you got?" he chuckled, as she tried another method— throwing her legs around him and pushing on his head.  He was sent underwater laughing, though she wasn't sure if it was because she'd thrown herself around him or because she'd actually succeeded. He came back up and splashed her, so she backed away.  "Come on," he said, pointing towards the ledge by the waterfall.  "Let's go to the rock."

They swam that way, then climbed up the rocky ledge.  They were covered in grasses and moss, which made it a little easier to climb.  Sawyer was ahead of her, helping her over every so often.  But when he turned to climb a little higher over the white waterfall, she dove back into the water.  After a second, he followed suit. 

She could tell he was swimming after her, so she tried to kick to go a little faster across the water, but she wasn't quick enough.  His fingers wrapped around her torso and tickled her. She laughed uncontrollably, accidentally swallowing water as she kicked him away.  She poked her head back above the water, took a breath, then dove back under. 

Their feet couldn't reach the bottom— it was probably about ten feet deep where they were.  Clementine swam further into the cloudy green water, seeing a sort of murky figure near the bottom.  One became two as she swam closer, Sawyer following close behind.  She squinted, pushing hair out her eyes.  Clem stopped herself short when she could finally see clearly— two people, a man and a woman by the looks of them, long dead and strapped into airplane seats.  Their skin was wrinkled and bits of it had come off into the water, and their hair was floating over them eerily.  The man's bony hand was still holding the woman's deteriorating wrist. 

Clementine quickly pushed herself up, gasping.  The smile that had once made a home on her lips had vanished.  She used her arms and legs to keep her up above the water as Sawyer came up, facing her.  "Hey, you okay?" he said, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah," she said breathily. "Yeah, you?"

"Yeah," he said.  "I'm gonna go check 'em out."

"Check 'em out for what? They're dead."

"See what they got on 'em," he said, brows raised.

"Sawyer," she scolded.

Before she could say anything else, he dove back under the water.  Clementine followed him, staying a few feet behind.  Sawyer opened jacket pockets and looked around the seats for anything of value.  Underneath the man, Clementine saw a silver case— a heavy duty Halliburton, the same kind she used to use back home to store all her... y'know what? That's irrelevant. This one wasn't hers, but whatever was in there had to be of value to someone, because without the key, there was no getting into it.

Once Sawyer was finished ransacking the corpses, the both of them swam up to the surface. "Hey, got myself a wallet," said Sawyer, shaking the black leather in the air as Clementine wiped the hair out of her face.

"You're disgusting," she said.

"He ain't gonna miss it."

"Did you see that case?"

"What case?"

"The briefcase underneath the seat. Silver."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, I saw it. What do you want with it?"

"That's a Halliburton. Practically bulletproof. Whoever brought that thing on the plane... they wanted to keep it real shut. We should take it."

He scoffed. "I'm disgusting, but you're not?"

She huffed. "I want to return it to its owner," she said, matter-of-factly. "Maybe someone can open it." She dove under the water, and Sawyer shortly followed, surprised. Clem swam further down, struggling with the metal case underneath the seat, probably hooked on something. The dead bodies freaked her out a little, being so close, and she wasn't strong enough to get it out from underneath the seat. She backed away and let Sawyer have at it. He swum closer to the case, then shoved it back and pulled it again, then was finally able to grab it by the handle. They swam up to the surface, then back to the rocky shore.

"There you go," he said, handing it to her as they walked out of the water. The case was heavy, and instead of the number combination, had a small keyhole near the handle where it opened. It was a little dented and dirty, but still in shape. Clementine sat down on one of the rocks near where she'd dropped her clothes and examined it. There wasn't any imperfections in the locking mechanism, and there wouldn't be any opening it without that key.

Clem wasn't really sure why she'd wanted it so bad, but her curiosity got the best of her. Besides, maybe there was something really valuable inside, something they might be able to get excited over for once. Something that would take their minds off whatever happened to Claire.

"Whose do you think it is?" Sawyer asked.

Clementine shrugged. "Dunno. Here," she said, passing it over to him. "You hold onto it." She stood up and grabbed her pants from beside her, pulling them over her legs.

"What, no more swimming?" he said.

"In dead body lake?" she said, brows raised as she zippered her pants. "Sure, let's go for another round. Maybe Mr. And Mrs. Rotting Corpse want to play Marco Polo with us."

Sawyer chuckled. "Got it," he said.

"Let's go back," she said, grabbing her shoes. "We can find whose case that is."

"And if it's nobody's?"

Clementine sighed. "Then you can keep it, Pack Rat."

— ◒ —

Energy was high on the beach. The tide had come in that morning surprisingly quickly, putting half the camp underwater. Most of their belongings had been retrieved in the few hours they were gone, but they were moving their camp up the coast in hopes the tides wouldn't be able to reach them like that again. All of the luggage and useful pieces of the wreckage were out of the water, but there was still a lot of work to be done if they wanted to move the whole camp. The tide had risen oddly fast.

Clementine went over to what was left of her sleeping area— luckily she hadn't lost anything to the ocean other than the bamboo holding up her tarp, which was replaceable. As she picked up the side of the stretch of four windows that had come off the plane, Kate came to join her, picking up the other side and helping her carry it down the coastline.

"Thanks," she said, smiling at her.

"'Course," she said. "Hey, I saw you and Sawyer coming back—"

"Nothing happened, if that's what you're thinking," Clementine interrupted.

Kate chuckled. "No," she said, shaking her head. "The case he was holding."

"The Halliburton?" Clementine asked, glancing behind her. She knew Kate was watching her step, but she just wanted to be sure. "Is it yours?" she asked.

"Um, no," Kate said, shaking her head. "I just wanted to know if you guys opened it."

"No one I asked had the key or knew anything about it," said Clem, shrugging. "Let's take a break," she said, as she and Kate placed the long piece of scrap metal down in the sand. "I gave it to Sawyer. I think he's gonna try and pick the lock, but I doubt that's going to work."

"What do you think's in it?" she asked, after they'd both shaken their hands out and were ready to go the rest of the walk.

Clementine shrugged as they picked up the metal again.  "Whatever it is, it's not something the owner wanted anyone else getting into."

— ◒ —

By the next morning, they were still working on moving all the useful pieces of scrap metal, plus all the extra bags and suitcases, down to the other end of the beach. Clementine was helping some others load suitcases onto a makeshift dolly when someone poked her shoulder. She turned around to find Sawyer, the silver case in his hands.

"You got it open?" she said, brows raised.

"I wish," he said. "I need to talk to you."

Clementine scrunched her brows in confusion, but followed him a little up the beach anyway. "What?" she said.

"Did Kate ask you about the case?" his voice was low. There was a good few people around, but she wasn't sure why he didn't want anyone hearing.

"I mean, a little," she said. "Why? What happened?"

"She jumped me last night while I was sleeping. Tried to take it."

"She jumped you?" Clementine said doubtfully. She scoffed. "I'm sure you loved that."

He rolled his eyes. "That's besides the point. She tried to steal the case. You think it's hers?"

Clementine thought for a second. "She told me it wasn't."

"You think she's lying?"

She shrugged. "Dunno."

"Come on, don't girls know this stuff about each other?"

Clementine raised her brows, scoffing. "What, you think we have some kind of gossip network? I've known her two weeks, Sawyer, same as you." She crossed her arms. "I can't tell when she's lying."

Sawyer huffed. "You think she knows what's in it?"

"Probably," Clementine shrugged. "If she wants it that bad, she has to."

"Well, whatever's in there is real valuable, then."

"Why don't you just give it to her?"

Sawyer smiled, as if that was some sort of joke. "Why'd she try to take it from me?  Why didn't she just ask?"

"Would you give it to her if she asked?"

"No," he said simply. "But I'd appreciate the sentiment."

"She's gonna keep trying, you know."

"I'm going to get it open before she gets the chance."

"You really think you can pick that lock?" she said, as they began walking back. 

"I'd appreciate if you didn't doubt me, Sunshine."

— ◒ —

As the sky turned shades of orange, the group migrated the last of the bags and materials about a quarter mile down the beach. Clementine saw Charlie not too far away helping an older woman, Rose, carry a few pieces of scrap metal up the coast. She'd noticed him just sitting around and sulking earlier, so this was a nice change.  She knew what it was like to blame yourself.  But Claire hadn't been his fault— he'd nearly died trying to protect her.

Their new home was still sandy, but much further toward the tree line of the jungle, where they had a bit more shade, but could still be seen.  While Sayid and Sawyer started on a new signal fire now that it was dark, Shannon migrated over to Clementine, who was tying up her tarp over her sleeping area with a slightly different method than her last camp.

"Hey, Clem," she said. 

"Hey," she smiled back, softly.  "Wanna help me out?" She nodded toward the other end of the tarp.

Shannon nodded, and picked it up, helping Clementine secure the end to a stick of bamboo she'd cut. "I haven't seen you around today," said Clementine.  "Where've you been?"

"Sayid took some papers from the French woman when he escaped," she began. "Maps and stuff. I was trying to help translate them."

"Really?" said Clementine, surprised.  Shannon really hadn't done much on the island since they'd arrived, and while she understood that it was part of the way she dealt with things, everyone should have to do a little something.  She was proud her friend had found a way to contribute. "What did they say?"

Shannon shrugged, finishing off her knot.  "I don't know. It was a bunch of stupid nonsense.  I wasn't helpful." She sounded frustrated.

"Oh, come on Shannon, you tried," said Clementine, walking over to the blonde.  "I'm sure he appreciates that, at least."

"I can't do anything right," said Shannon. "Boone says I'm useless."

Clementine huffed. "Well Boone can shove it up his ass," she said.  "He's the one going out on adventures with Locke every day out in the jungle.  They don't come back with boar, and they don't come back with Claire.  Talk about useless."

"I feel just like that kid," she said, crossing her arms and taking a seat underneath Charlotte's newly constructed tent.  "Walt.  Like some kind of responsibility."

"You're smart, Shannon. And if Sayid didn't think so, he wouldn't have asked you to help.  Boone's not your babysitter, and he doesn't get to tell you what you are or you aren't."

Shannon looked down, and her eyes looked as if she'd realized something "Oh my God."

"What?" Clem said, confused. "Did I say something?"

"No, no." Shannon shook her head. "Rousseau's notes. I know what she was writing."

"You do?" A minute ago, hadn't she 'not been able to translate it?'

"I have to go talk to Sayid," she said, stumbling up and out of the sand.

"You do that," said Clementine, nodding. Shannon walked off toward where Sayid was sitting, around one of the small fires scattered around the camp. Seeing Shannon take a seat nearby the warm, orange flames gave Clementine an idea to start one of her own. She went off to their supply of chopped wood and gathered just enough in her arms to create a small fire, just to keep herself warm.

As she started back to her sleeping area, Sawyer joined her, jogging through the sand to catch up before slowing to her pace. Clementine glanced at him, then down at his empty hands. "Where's the case?" she said.

"Where do you think?" he replied, tilting his head.

"You gave it to her?"

"I gave it to Jack, who she sent to do her dirty work," he said.

"He tell you what's inside?"

Sawyer shook his head. "Nope, but I'll bet she told him."

"So it's hers."

"Or she knows where the key is," Sawyer said. "She tried to take it from me earlier today, too. I told her I'd give it to her if she just satisfied my curiosity and told me what's inside. She didn't budge."

Clementine shrugged. "Then I'd guess it's none of our business." She put the wood down and set it neatly so that she could create a spark. Sawyer took out a match and lit it for her. "What a gentleman," she said sarcastically, sitting down on the sand. The orange fire roared to life almost immediately, the small flame growing at an exponential speed. It lit up their faces and spread warmth through their bodies. Sawyer's blue eyes glowed like a sunset as he stared at it.

"Cigarette?" he offered, taking one out of his pocket and holding it out.

Clem waved her hand. "Not tonight," she said.

"Suit yourself." Sawyer held the cigarette up to one of the dancing flames and it quickly lit. He put it in his mouth, took a puff, and blew smoke, which dispersed in the wind, the smell of the fire in front of them masking that of the tobacco.

"What do you think's in there?" Clementine asked him, staring at the fire.

"Something real sentimental and useless, probably."

"How poetic," she commented sarcastically.

"Just telling it like it is," he said. "She wanted it that bad, and she didn't want to tell me. Probably would've sounded stupid to anyone else."

Clementine breathed out, not replying. After their conversation, the two of them simply sat, staring at the waltzing flames in front of them. But as James continued to look down into it, blowing smoke from the side of his mouth, Clementine looked up at his face. He, too, had fire in his cold blue eyes. Maybe she was crazy, seeing the softer, happier part of him. Maybe she was seeing through a facade that wasn't even there. But there was something about him— perhaps it was the way he always knew when she needed a cigarette, or the way he pretended not to care, or maybe it was just his blond hair, which somehow looked perfect every single day they spent here.

Charlotte Roberts didn't know exactly what drew her to James Ford. But whatever it was, it was working. A little too well.

Chapter Text

"Michael's gonna build a raft."

"What?"

Shannon had walked up on Clementine as she slipped her tank top back on, having washed herself in the ocean on a secluded part of the beach. It was a sunny afternoon, a little humid, but not unbreathable.  Though everyone was calm in spirit, there was tension resting like a haze over all the survivors.  Claire was missing for over a week.

"He's acting like we want to be here," Shannon continued, pacing. "He says it's like we've made ourselves a little home here."

"And what do you think?"

Shannon clicked her tongue, then looked down, kicking sand as she stopped pacing. She looked up at her friend again.  "I think he's right," she said. "What do you think?"

"I think a raft is a risky, dangerous, and kinda crazy idea," she said.  "But I don't think anyone's coming to save us, and I think everyone else has come to terms with that too. So it's probably our best bet."

"I just want to get out of here," said Shannon.

"You should help him."

Shannon chuckled. "I don't know the first thing about building a boat."

Clem shrugged. "I'm sure Michael needs help with something."

— ◒ —

Charlotte's home had always felt comfortable. It wasn't big, but she knew there were people less fortunate than her, and she was grateful to even have a bedroom. But nowadays, the house felt cramped, too close. And it was missing something.

Clem's mother had made sure all of her sister's belongings stayed exactly how they were, the exact way she left them. If anything was moved, Clementine got in trouble. But that wasn't surprising— Clem was in trouble for just about anything these days. Her mother had no qualms about blaming her eldest daughter for every problem she had.

Over the past couple weeks, her father had tried desperately to have her mother allow Clem to come hunting with him once again. Usually, Clem didn't like hunting. She still didn't, but she would do anything to get out of this house, even going hunting. Finally, she allowed them out of the house, and her father took her on the long drive up north, toward the vast woods they always used to go camping in.

"Thank you," Clem said, as they stepped into the trees from the grassy parking area.

"For what?" her father asked, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder.

"Getting me out of there," she said.

He shrugged. "I just needed a helping hand." He handed her a knife in its sheath, and she hooked it onto her pants as they walked into the woods. "Your mother's just not having a good week. We need to give her space sometimes."

Clementine looked up at her father, brows furrowed. "Not having a good week?" she said. "Dad, I don't think she's having a good year. It's been two years since—"

"Please, Clementine," he said, stopping them in their tracks, "don't talk about her."

"Trina?" she said, getting upset. "My sister? My dead sister? Why not? This is stupid, Dad. I can't stand it anymore. No one talks about her. I didn't do anything. Mom says I did, but I didn't. Why does she tell me I killed her, Dad?"

"Charlotte, I can't talk about this right now." He began their walk again.

Clementine sighed, and quieted. She had no choice, really. If it were up to her mother, she'd probably have him get in the car and leave her here after that outburst. But no one would give her any answers. Catrina had died. She wasn't killed, and Clementine definitely didn't kill her. She couldn't do that.

But I was supposed to protect her, Clementine thought, as she walked through the cool, shady woods. And I didn't.

Her and her father walked in silence through the woods, keeping an eye out for anything they could bring home for dinner. After an hour, they began seeing multiple young rabbits in one area, animals that hopped away at the first sign of humans. But that meant there was a mother and a burrow nearby.

"We'll get the mother," he said.

"And have rabbit for dinner? Mom doesn't like rabbit."

"Well, I haven't seen any sign of deer, have you?"

"No."

"She'll have to settle, then." For some reason, Clementine's father had never been afraid of her mother. Mom saved the worst of her personality especially for Clementine. Her father didn't seem to care what she did to Clem, as long as she wasn't taking it out on him. Mom could do whatever she wanted. And dad loved her anyway, no matter how much she screamed and cursed.

Upon spotting the large, mother rabbit, Clem and her father paused, crouching beside a bush where the rabbit couldn't see them. "Want to take a shot?" her father asked. Clementine shook her head.

"I'll just help you take it home," she said. "You kill it."

"You'll have to do it someday, Clementine. If you ever want to be a hunter, you have to kill."

"Who told you I want to be a hunter?"

He sighed. "Trina," he said simply. "Trina wanted to be a hunter when she grew up."

"She did?"

"It's the reason she liked going camping so much."

"She never told me that."

"She knew you didn't like it," she said. "She thought you would be upset."

Clementine looked down. "I wouldn't have been upset."

Clementine never heard her father talk about Trina again.

— ◒ —

"Hey, Kate," said Clementine, catching up to the brunette as she walked along the beach. Kate smiled weakly, then looked down, playing with her thumbs.

"Hey," she said.

"Listen, Kate," she said, noticing the woman's nervous mannerisms. "I'm not mad at you or anything." Kate still didn't look at her. "I just don't understand why you lied to me."

"I didn't," Kate shrugged. "The case isn't mine."

"Please, Kate," she said, stopping their walk. Kate turned to her, but still was staring down at her fingers. "I just want an answer. That's all."

Kate's gaze finally looked up to her. "Clementine, it's not..."

"Does Jack know?"

Kate nodded. "Yeah."

"I won't tell Sawyer," she said. "I swear. If you'd told me the truth, I could've helped you."

Kate continued their walk along the water quietly. Clementine knew she couldn't push her for much longer. Kate wouldn't do anything she didn't want to do, and she didn't seem like the type to just share her life with anyone.  Honestly, neither was Clementine. 

As they walked along the water, they spotted Charlie near a few smaller pieces of wreckage, going through a few bags that sat nearby. "Charlie?" called Kate, brows furrowed.

Charlie continued digging through the bags. "Hey," he greeted.  Finally, he sat up, and glanced at them both. "These are Claire's things.  Who brought them here?"

"I did," said Kate. "Why? What are you doing?"

Charlie unzipped another pocket and continued his dig. "I can't find it.  I don't know where it is."

"What?" asked Clementine.

Charlie looked up at her. "Claire's diary," he said. "She kept her diary in this side pocket. I know because I saw her put it in there." He pointed to the pocket he'd just unzipped, then stood. "Someone's taken it," he said.

Clementine sighed.

— ◒ —

Clem, Charlie, and Kate walked up to Sawyer's tent. The flaps were closed, but the blond was most likely inside. "Sawyer," Clem called, walking up to the tent. No answer. "Hey, Sawyer."

Charlie glanced at both of them, then back at the tent. "You know, I could just go inside," he said, reaching for one of the tent flaps.

"Trick or treat," said a voice from behind them. Sawyer was sitting up against another canopy he'd made, this one packed with less stuff than the closed off tent. He had a stick in his hands and a smile on his face. "What are you three selling today?" he asked.

Charlie took a few steps forward. "Where's Claire's diary?" he said firmly. "Someone took it from her bag."

Sawyer threw a piece of the stick. "Oh, I get it," he said. "Something goes missing and right away you figure it's gotta be me that took it."

"Do you have the diary or not?" Kate asked, arms crossed.

Sawyer pulled the small, blue notebook out from beside him. "You mean this one?" he asked.

Charlie flicked his fingers. "Give it to me."

"Now, I'm not sure that's the best idea," said Sawyer, beginning to stand. "Maybe Missy Claire didn't want you reading it."

"I wasn't gonna read it," said Charlie, glaring.

"You're not curious what she wrote about you?" he said, raising his brows. God, he didn't really read the girls's diary, did he? Charlie reached for the book, but Sawyer took it out of his reach.

"You bastard," said Charlie. "Did you read it?"

The smile didn't come off Sawyer's face as he looked down at the book, turning it in his hands. "Good literature's kinda scarce around here."

"He read it," Charlie said, turning back to Kate and Clementine.

"Just give it to us," said Clementine, thinning her eyes.

Sawyer opened up the book. "'Dear Diary, I'm getting really freaked out by that has-been pop star.'" Charlie reached for it again, but Sawyer pulled it away. "'I think he's stalking me.'"

"Sawyer!" Clem scolded, taking a few steps forward.

"'Diary, the little limey runt just won't let up.'"

This time, Charlie was quick, reaching for the diary and slapping Sawyer in the face in one smooth move. Sawyer shouted, then punched Charlie back. The Brit stumbled, but wasn't bleeding. "You hit like a ponce," he said, wiping his mouth.

"Oh, yeah?" said Sawyer, walking after him. Clementine stepped in front of the blond, putting a hand on his chest.

"That's enough," she said, glaring into his eyes. Charlie and Kate walked away. "You didn't really read it, did you?" she said.

He huffed. "I just hadn't gotten around to it yet," he replied, tilting his head.

Clementine shook her head, then turned around and walked away, catching up with Kate and Charlie. "He didn't read it," she said, as both their heads turned to her. "Don't let him get under your skin, Charlie."

"Thanks," he said, gesturing with the book.

Clem smiled and nodded, then walked back toward her sleeping area.

— ◒ —

Clementine had been living in a trailer park for a few years now. Her home was tiny, but it was just her living there. She'd been doing a lot recently, plus she had this cover job as a secretary, which her employer had advised her to get.  She was laying low, trying to stay out of all kinds of trouble.  Small home, pay your taxes on time, keep a steady job, and you'll be fine.  That's what Sir liked to tell her.

She was sure the man had other people working for him, because he only asked her to do a job every couple of months or so.  It wasn't always a target and a gun— sometimes she was on bodyguard duty, other times, extractions, and there was once where she had to go and pay bail for one of his guys. Life could get boring between assignments, especially since she only took so many hours at her secretary job. She still had a personal life, of course.  A few friends, a man or two here and there. But she made sure to keep distance between them— she couldn't get too attached.

Plus, there was always the adrenaline to keep her company.  One week, she was jumping from a bridge, the next rock climbing, after that, maybe jet skiing. But today, on an overcast, chilly day, she didn't have anything in the schedule, and was sitting at home, watching whatever sitcom happened to be on TV.

She got a little spooked when she heard a knock at her door— she waited a few seconds, turning off the TV and trying to peek through the window, but she couldn't see anyone without getting too close.  Warily, she took a few soft steps toward the door, and through the window, saw someone walking away.  She furrowed her brows and opened the door, and the man turned around.

It was her father.

She hadn't seen him in years. He was older now, the bags under his eyes a little heavier than the last time she'd seen him.  Grays littered his hairline and he wore glasses, which distorted his once caring eyes.  Now, he seemed just tired.

"Dad?" she said, aghast.  She stepped outside.  He came a little closer to her, but the father and daughter did not embrace.  This was not a grateful reunion. "How did you—" She stuttered. "What are you doing here?"

He just stared at her. "I know it's you."

Charlotte furrowed her brows. "What?"

"I know it's you, Clementine." He took a few steps closer to her, but she stayed right where she was standing, a few feet away from her front door.

"What are you talking about?" she said.

"They can't identify your face," he began. "You don't leave prints. You can wear a hood, change your clothes, but I'd recognize you anywhere. Blurry or not."

There had been a few security camera screencaps on the news, but nothing near incriminating. Clementine was good at keeping her head down. Apparently, not good enough.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said calmly.

"Don't deny me, Charlotte!" he yelled. Clementine's eyes widened. "I know you. You have to stop."

Clem's mouth was agape. She chuckled sarcastically. "You know me?" she repeated, brows raised. "You know me. No, dad. You don't know me. You haven't known me for years. What right do you have to tell me to stop?" She was yelling now. "You never told mom to stop. She hit me and cursed at me and convinced me I was this killer! You never once asked her to stop."

"Clementine..." he began.

"No." Clementine cut him off. "You don't get to come here and pretend you know me. You need to leave."

"I need you to stop, Clementine," he pleaded. "You can't do this."

Clementine didn't want to her it anymore. Not from him. "Get off my property, dad, or I swear I'm gonna call the cops." She pointed away from her property.

"I love you, Clementine. Please."

Clementine scowled at him. "Leave!" she shouted.

Her dad gave her one last look, pity in his eyes, and walked away.

— ◒ —

"Clementine," said a voice. Clementine blew smoke toward the ocean in front of her, then looked up to see Boone calling her name. He had a worried look on his face, concern lacing his blue eyes. "Claire's back."

Clem's eyes widened. "What?" She stood up.

"Claire's back," he repeated. "Locke and I found her last night. Walt lost his dog again, and—"

"Boone," she interrupted. She didn't need the whole story. "Where is she?"

"The caves," he said. "But Clem," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She stopped walking, and turned to him. "She doesn't remember anything."

Clementine furrowed her brows.

"She doesn't remember the crash," he said. "She's alive. She's awake. But she didn't remember any of us."

"Can I go see her?"

"She's a little shaken," said Boone with a shrug. "I just wanted to let you know. I know you guys were friends and all."

"Thanks, Boone," she said, smiling. He nodded to her, then walked off. Clementine took another drag of her cigarette and stepped in the other direction. She saw Sayid, Jack, Locke, and Charlie talking a little ways' down the beach.

"Then tell me, Doctor," she heard Sayid saying as she walked closer to the conversation, "how many times have you diagnosed actual amnesia? And such a selective brand of it?"

"Okay, it's rare," said Jack. "But she's been through a major trauma. It is possible that her memory reset to the crash."

Charlie glanced at Clementine. "Could I get a drag?" he muttered to her, as the others' conversation continued.

"And the chances of that memory returning?" said Locke.

"Knock yourself out," Clem whispered to Charlie, handing over her cigarette.

"I don't know," said Jack.

After taking a puff and blowing smoke toward the water, Charlie handed the cigarette back to Clem and spoke up again. "You know what? You boys talk about Claire all you want," he said, annoyed. "I'm actually gonna go spend some time with her. I get the impression she might still be a tad upset." Charlie then walked off into the jungle, on the path to the caves.

There was a few seconds of silence between the three men, so Clem spoke up. "What if Ethan comes back?" she asked.

Jack shook his head. "I don't know."

— ◒ —

Ethan came back.

Not long after he set off angrily into the jungle, Charlie came back, not only angrier, but also panicked and urgent. Ethan had attacked him in the jungle and told him that if he didn't give Claire back to him, he said he'd kill more and more of the survivors until he got what he wanted. He was quiet, and he disappeared into the jungle, leaving no trace other than Charlie's witness accounts.

They were stationing people periodically around the beach and the caves, keeping an eye out for Ethan. Clementine's post was at the edge of the jungle up the beach, and she would stay awake until another person came by to pick up her shift. Sayid and Boone had sharpened a few long sticks into spears, and every sentry had one. As night fell upon them, fires were lit, and most people headed to their sleeping areas.

"On duty, huh?"

"Don't distract me, Sawyer."

He took a seat on the log next to her, a grin on his face. "Nice night for a kidnapping."

She turned her head over to him, as if to say, really?

"Just making conversation," he said. "You think you're gonna get tired?"

"Not with you around," she said. "I don't think you'll let me."

— ◒ —

Locke came by later to pick up her post, but Clem didn't end up getting much sleep, anyway. The next morning was windy— mist from the ocean flew all over like tiny raindrops, and it was a little colder than it had been for the past 3 weeks. Clementine woke up after sleeping for only 3 hours to the sound of a woman's shrill scream.

Clem was disoriented from her lack of sleep, and was slow to realize that the commotion she was hearing outside was really happening. She got up and out of her tent, and saw Kate, Charlie, and Hurley looking down upon the beach. She followed their gazes down toward the water line, where Locke, Sayid, Boone, and someone else were carrying someone wrapped in a tarp down the beach.

Whoever was in there was dead.

"I thought those guys had the full-on perimeter set up," said Hurley.

"Locke said it didn't matter," said Kate, watching them carry their makeshift body bag up the beach. "He came in from the water."

"So he's got a boat now?" added Clem.

"You sure it wasn't an accident?" asked Hurley. "I mean, maybe the guy just drowned or something."

"His neck was broken, both his arms, all the bones in his fingers," began Kate.

"Yeah, Okay, got it," said Hurley. 

Sawyer walked up behind them just as the others carried the body past them, only the victim's face peeking out of its wrappings. "Guess old Steve drew the short straw," Sawyer commented, watching them walk by.

Hurley and Clementine looked up at him.  "Dude, that was Scott," Hurley said, walking off.

Sawyer bit his lip and looked down.

"Nice one," said Clementine sarcastically.  She turned around and followed Kate up the beach, where they were going to bury Scott and hold his funeral in a small, grassy grove among the trees.

After burying him, they tied together two sticks with twine in the shape of a cross and marked the grave. Hurley knew him the best— he spoke up as everyone gathered solemnly around the grave. "Scott Jackson worked for an internet company in Santa Cruz," he said, holding Scott's plane ticket and a brochure. "He won a sales prize. Two-week Australian vacation, all expenses paid. He was a good guy." He looked down at the grave. "Sorry I kept calling you Steve, man." A pause. "Um... Amen, I guess." A few people repeated the amen. "I don't know how to end these."

Ethan had done exactly what he said he would. And if they didn't come up with a plan quickly, he was going to keep killing.

— ◒ —

Not a single soul on this island, dead or alive, knew anything about Charlotte's past.  They didn't know about Trina, how tragically she'd died, they didn't know about her mother, what horrible things she'd done to Clem, and they didn't know about the people she'd killed, or that she'd been paid to do so. They didn't know she knew her way around any weapon, and knew multiple ways to choke someone out or the perfect place to hit them to knock them unconscious.

They didn't know that she'd shot a gun hundreds of times, which is probably why they didn't ask her to join their hunt for Ethan.

They did, however, ask Sawyer.

Jack didn't tell where he'd gotten the four guns from, but Clementine had a sneaking suspicion that these were what had been in the Halliburton they'd found a few days ago, the one Kate had so desperately wanted.  She didn't know how Kate knew what was inside, but these questions were for another time.

Claire had volunteered herself to be their bait.  They were going to attract Ethan, and four of them, Locke, Sayid, Jack, and now Sawyer, were going to hide in the trees and pounce once he showed up, then take him back to camp and question him. Jack didn't want anyone who hadn't handled a gun before to come. They were only for desperate last resorts, and Sawyer was one of the few on the island who knew how to use one.  (At least that Jack knew of.)

"Help? Moi?"

"You know how to handle a gun or not?" asked Jack.

"Well, I know at least one polar bear seems to think so," said Sawyer.

Jack held it out for him to take.  A nine millimeter handgun. The blonde took it, then cocked it, asking, "Where'd you get the hardware, boss?"

Jack didn't answer. Instead, Kate butted in. "I wanna come."

Jack shook his head. "Sorry, we're out of guns. And no one goes out there unarmed."

Clementine looked from Jack to Kate.  There was always a sort of tension between them. From what she'd learned, Kate was a doer.  She wanted to be involved all the time.  But Jack was a protector, and he always felt responsible for the survivors. Most of all, Kate.

Jack began to walk away, but Sawyer called after him. "How much ammo you got?" he asked.

Jack turned around. "Hundred rounds, give or take," he said, taking a couple steps back toward him.

"All nines, right?"

Jack furrowed his brows.

"Nine millimeters?"  Sawyer clarified, holding up the gun Jack had given him. "The guns?"

"Yeah," nodded Jack. "Why?"

"'Cause if your lady wants to come..." he trailed off, venturing into his tent.  Clem, Kate, and Jack watched him, and he stepped out holding a second gun. "Lifted this off the Marshal. Back in the old days.  Remember him, don't you?"

Kate and Jack glanced at each other.

"Surly guy, kinda square jaw?" Sawyer described. "Carried a Sig nine?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "I remember you shot him. And missed."

"Yeah, well... bygones." He handed the gun to Kate, who put it into her jeans. "And hell, five guns are better than four."

There was a couple moments of silence.  Jack seemed a little uneasy about Kate having the gun, but he allowed it, taking a few steps in the other direction. "Sayid's waiting for us," he said.  After nodding to Sawyer in thanks, Kate followed him.

"You trust her?" Clementine asked Sawyer, turning to him.

"If it were my choice?" he said. "You'd have that gun in your hands. But you and I both know Jack wouldn't like that."

"Untrained hands," she quoted. Oh, was she trained.  Sawyer didn't know that, though.

"Wish me luck," he said, walking off backwards in the direction Kate and Jack had gone.  Sayid, Locke, and Claire were gathering in the distance.

"Luck," she said simply.

As they set off into the jungle, it began to thunder and rain.  Clementine had already cooped herself up in Sawyer's tent, where she'd been earlier to grab a few cigarettes.  She decided he wouldn't mind if she borrowed his roof for a little while, and stayed inside, reading a car magazine.  But it wasn't a good distraction.

As the thunder rumbled across the sky, all Clem could think about was how afraid she was. They'd been on this island too long. Michael was right about one thing— they were getting too comfortable here. And too many things were getting used to them. The boar had migrated—Locke and Boone came back every night empty handed. Whoever else lived on this island was killing their people off, stealing their pregnant women. Where had he come from? What did he want with her? And did Jack really think that if they caught him, he would ever tell them anything?

— ◒ —

As the thunder quieted and the sheets of rain became a slow pitter-patter, Sawyer, Kate, and Sayid walked out of the jungle. Clementine rushed up to meet them in the rain. None of them looked happy, and it had been hours now since they'd set off. The dark clouds were moving away, but the sun was beginning to set.

"What happened?" she asked, walking with the group. "Where's Ethan?"

"He's dead," said Kate. "The rest of them are at the caves."

"What? Jack said—"

"Jack dropped his gun," began Sayid, interrupting her. "Charlie followed us. He picked it up, and shot Ethan six times in the chest."

Clementine didn't know what to say. Sayid and Kate both walked separate ways, but Sawyer stayed walking with her, quietly. Their feet trudged through the wet sand, sticking in every footprint as they traveled down the beach quietly. As the rain became a drizzle, the two of them stopped at his tent. "I hope you don't mind," she said. "I stayed here in the rain. Mine isn't exactly protection from the elements." She gestured to her sleeping area a little ways' down the beach.

"As long as you didn't touch anything," he said. He sounded irritated, but not with her, just in general. Maybe at Charlie, or Ethan, or something else.

"You did a good thing, you know," she said, hoping to bring a little comfort. "You guys tried."

"Yeah, well," he said, looking up at her. "Not good enough, huh?"

Chapter Text

Clementine could never get comfortable when sleeping on the island. She slept atop a beach towel with one of the pillows from first class, and nothing over her other than her ratty roof, which had come down atop her a few times. She wasn't exactly used to making tents out of stiff tarps and airplane wreckage. She much preferred a real tent, but they couldn't exactly drive off to the store and buy one.

The sand under the towel was bumpy in all the wrong places, and she could never get into the right position for sleeping.  Every morning when she woke up from her limited hours of slumber, she was stiff and achey— but after almost a month on this damn island, she was getting used to it against her will.  She missed her bed back in California, but she wasn't sure she'd ever see it again.

Crash!

Just as she'd begun to drift into slumber, a loud noise woke Clem up in the night. She and many others stumbled up out of their tents and sleeping arrangements, their eyes all following Sawyer, running shirtless into the jungle with a metal pole in his hand, shouting. After a minute, everyone began to go back into their tents.  Sawyer was still in the grassy jungle somewhere. 

Clem waited a couple more minutes until she saw him walk out. He walked right past her, an infuriated look on his face. His sharp features were only just visible in the firelight. "What—"

"Go back to bed," he said.

— ◒ —

After a banana breakfast at the caves with Claire and Shannon, Clementine went back to the beach and found a disheveled Sawyer covered in mud and dirt, cleaning what was left of his tent.  The tarp over top it was gone and all his books and airplane bottles and cigarettes and sunscreen were scattered across the sand around him.

"What happened to you?" she asked, brows raised as she leaned over the set of windows he used as siding.

"A boar," he snapped, as he shoved a knife into its sheath.

"A boar," she said, in disbelief, "did all this?"

Sawyer didn't look at her, and instead, began stuffing things into a backpack. "Last night, it wrecked my tent," he explained frustratedly. "This morning, when I went to get my tent back, it attacks me from behind and runs off into the jungle like a coward."

Clem smiled. "A boar wouldn't just attack you for no reason."

"Thank you, boar expert," he said, as Clementine walked around into what was left of his tent. "This one did." He stood up. "It's harassing me." He bent down and picked up a gun from underneath a shirt he had lying on the ground, and cocked the chamber. He wasn't supposed to have it anymore— Jack had asked for it back so he could keep all the guns together in the case, and Sawyer had decided to keep it for himself.

"What are you doing?" Clem asked, looking down at it.

"Getting even," he said, through gritted teeth.

Clem chuckled. "Would you listen to yourself? You have a personal vendetta against a boar." Sawyer bent down and grabbed his pack. "Just go tell Locke and he'll kill it," she suggested.

"Nope," he said. "This is my fight."

Clem raised her brows, unsure. "Do you know anything about hunting boar?" Sawyer stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "You are gonna get yourself lost or worse."

Sawyer looked up at her and tilted his head. "Since when do you care?"

Clem huffed. "I don't."

"Good," he said. "Then if you'll excuse me, I've got some revenge to tend to." He walked past her, out towards the jungle.

— ◒ —

Clementine quickly packed her own backpack with water and food, borrowed a knife from Locke, and decided to follow him.

From what she saw, Sawyer had never hunted in his life. It was the greatest entertainment she'd had in weeks.

First of all, he was crazy if he thought he'd find the boar running about in the middle of the afternoon. Secondly, he couldn't tell his own footsteps from a bird's, boar's, or someone else's. He was following about 4 different trails, none of which were boar, and he was walking around in very wide circles. At one point, he'd even followed Clementine's footsteps, and she'd been afraid he might spot her— but he diverted to another trail where there'd been a small rockslide.

When he bent down to examine yet another human footprint, Clementine just couldn't take it anymore. She walked out from between the bushes, smiling. "It's a footprint," she said. Sawyer turned his head, sighing. "Based on the weight and the distance between strides, I'd say you've been following Boone for about an hour." She stood in front of him. "Could be Charlie, I guess."

"Look," he said, rolling his eyes, "I'm tickled you're taking such an interest in my affairs." He stood up. "So don't take it personal when I tell you to—"

"All you had to do was ask, you know."

He furrowed his brows. "'Scuse me?"

"You can't track your boar friend without my help," she shrugged. "I've been hunting before. I would've helped you."

Sawyer huffed, continuing his walk through the jungle. Clem followed him closely. "Over the last few hours, you've managed to follow the tracks of humans, birds, a rockslide, yourself... basically everything except boar." He paused, turning around to look at her. He hadn't bothered to clean his face or change his clothes, his mind set on enacting revenge on the wild animal before doing anything else. "You have no idea what you're doing."

He scoffed, looking down. "Alright, fine."

"Go ahead," she said, nodding. "Ask."

He looked at her as if to say, really? She nodded. He sighed, pressing his tongue to the inside of his mouth. "Okay," said Clem, putting both her hands up. "If you really don't need me—" She began to turn around, but Sawyer put a hand on her shoulder. She turned back around, waiting.

"Alright," he said. "I need your help." He spoke slowly and through gritted teeth.

Clementine smiled in victory.

— ◒ —

They tracked all through the day, and they were far north into the jungle now, maybe 5 miles from camp. Night had fallen upon them, and Sawyer and Clementine had both decided to make camp for the night. They started a fire and were now sitting quietly as they watched the flames dance.

After a few minutes of simply sitting there in silence, Sawyer reached into his pack, taking out a small airplane bottle of liquor. He opened it with a smile on his face and took a long sip without flinching. "You brought liquor?" she said, playing with the water bottle cap in her hands.

"I come prepared," he said.

She chuckled. "Any more where that came from?"

"I got a lot more of everything," he said. "But shouldn't I be rewarding you after we catch a boar?"

She huffed. "Is that a no?"

He chuckled, reaching down into his pack. "Alright, sassafras." He held up a small bottle. "But if you want a drink, you gotta play." He shook it tauntingly.

"Play what?"

"I never."

"What?"

He leaned forward, clearing his throat. "I never."

She tilted her head. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

He handed her the bottle— tequila. "Call it a way to get to know each other better," he said. "For example, I know you never been to college."

She smiled. "And how do you know that?"

"If you had, you'd've heard of 'I never'."

Clementine unscrewed the cap of her bottle and placed it on the ground next to her, chuckling.

"It's simple," he explained. "You say, 'I never,' and then you finish the sentence. If it's something you did, you drink. If it's something you never did, you don't drink."

Charlotte furrowed her brows, looking over at him.

"Learn by example," he said, noticing her confusion. "I never kissed a man." Clem rolled her eyes. "Now you drink, 'cause you've kissed a man."

Clem sighed, keeping her eyes on him as she took a quick sip. It stung her throat a little— she hadn't had any alcohol since he'd last shared with her. "Your turn," he told her.

Clementine looked at the ground, thinking. "I never implied that I've been to college, when I never have," she said, turning and looking at him. He smiled and took a sip.

"I never been to Disneyland," he said.

Clementine looked over at him, not drinking.

"Aw, that's just sad!" he said. Clementine shrugged.

"I never been to a concert," she said.

"You never been anywhere, huh?" Sawyer drank.

"I prefer an adventure. Who'd you see?"

"Nirvana," he said with a nod. "1991."

"Lucky you."

Sawyer looked down for a few moments, thinking. "I never been in love," he said finally.

"Really," she said doubtfully. "You've never been in love?"

"I ain't drinking, am I?"

Clementine sighed, and took a short sip. "Didn't last very long."

"Australian boyfriend?"

"Maybe." She picked up the cap of her bottle from the ground and began playing with it. "I never had a one night stand."

Sawyer threw his hand up, and took a long sip from his bottle. "Bottoms up, sailor," she said, chuckling. Sawyer raised his brows and coughed.

"I gotta drink for each one?" he asked jokingly.

"Your turn."

He nodded, thinking. "I never broke up with someone in the middle of the night with nothing but a note."

Clementine glared at him, taking a sip— this one a little sharper than the rest.  She tilted her head, thinking of something good to get back. "I never blamed a boar for all my problems." 

Sawyer rolled his eyes, and took a sip of his drink.  He leaned forward, then looked at her again. "I never cared about helping someone hunt a boar just because I wanted to spend some time with the only other person on this island who just don't belong."

Clementine looked at him, then the ground, and took a sip of the tequila. "I never carried a letter around for 20 years 'cause I couldn't get over my baggage."

Sawyer thinned his eyes at her. Low, his expression said to her. Real low. After a couple seconds, he took a sip.

There was a few moments of silence, but they just looked at each other, waiting. The crickets sung all around them and the leaves on the trees whispered in the night wind. "I never killed a man," he said.

Whatever was left of Clementine's smile faded. She seemed to freeze, but he did not take back his words upon seeing her face.  He probably already had his answer, but he waited for her to drink anyway.  Her gaze not leaving his, she took a long sip.

After a few seconds, Sawyer, too raised the bottle to his lips. There was a moment of quiet. "Well," said Sawyer finally, "looks like we got something in common after all."

They didn't talk for the rest of the night.

— ◒ —

As the sun rose above them, Clementine blinked awake, and sat up with a start when she heard groaning from beside her.  She turned and found Sawyer still sleeping, but sweating and shaking, brows furrowed. She crawled over and put a hand on his chest, shaking him awake gently. He inhaled sharply, opening his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

He rolled over, coming to his senses. "I'm fine," he said breathily. "I was just having a..." He trailed off.

"Another thing we have in common," Clem said. She watched as Sawyer's head slowly turned, scanning the rest of their campsite. His brows furrowed, and she followed his gaze, finding food, cigarettes, and more of their things scattered across the jungle floor. 

"I can't believe this," Sawyer said, standing. Clementine did so too, her mouth agape. She scanned the ground.

"There are hoof marks everywhere," she said.

Sawyer picked up an empty bag he'd packed as Clementine walked over to her bag. "It ate all our stuff!" he said angrily.

"Nope," said Clementine, after bending down and opening her pack. "It ate your stuff. Mine's fine." She slung her bag over her shoulder.

Sawyer gritted his teeth. "Oh, that hog is gonna suffer. I swear to God—"

There was a rustling behind Clem, and both their heads quickly turned. Sawyer stumbled toward his bag and pulled out his gun, pointing it toward the noise, but instead of an animal, John Locke stepped out of the bushes, munching on a mango, unalarmed.  Clementine sighed, looking down, and Sawyer lowered his gun.

"What happened to your campsite?" John asked them.

As Sawyer began his cleanup, Locke got their fire started again, sharing a few of the fruits he had with the two of them. Clem and Locke sat calmly near their small campfire with a pot of coffee on as Sawyer became restless, collecting his things quite frustratedly. "What are you doing all the way out here, Locke?" Clem asked.

"Looking for salvage from the crash," he said.

"Find anything useful?"

"The occasional scrap of metal, a few bags of coffee," he said.  "I picked up your path about a mile back. I thought I'd say howdy."

"Oh, son of a..." Sawyer groaned, standing and dropping the shirt he'd just picked up. "Ugh! Peed on my shirt." He turned to them. "Took my shirt out of the bag and peed on it." He looked at Clem. "And you say this ain't personal."

"He thinks the boar we're hunting has a sort of vendetta against him," she explained to Locke, smiling.

"Uh-huh."

"That's three times it's attacked me," said Sawyer defensively.

"Maybe it's got your scent," she said. "Doesn't like your cologne."

Sawyer zipped up the bag, not looking at her.  "I don't wear cologne."

Clementine smiled as he turned around. "Yes, you do."

He huffed, turning away. "Yeah, well... the thing's got it in for me!" he shouted.

"It's a boar, Sawyer," she said.

He huffed, taking a seat opposite her. 

"My sister, Jeannie, died when I was a boy," said Locke simply. Clementine and Sawyer both furrowed their brows in confusion, but John continued. "She fell off the monkey bars and broke her neck."  Sawyer gave Clementine a look, but she was listening. "And my mother, well, my foster mother... she blamed herself, of course. Thought she wasn't watching close enough."  He handed Clementine a cup of coffee and she took it, nodding in thanks.  "So, she stopped eating, stopped sleeping. The neighbors started talking, afraid she might do something to herself, I guess." He took a sip from his own cup, the bottom of a thermos someone had brought. "Ooh, that's good."

He stood and handed a cup to Sawyer, continuing. "Anyway, about six months after Jeannie's funeral, this golden retriever comes padding up our driveway, walks right into our house, sits down on the floor and looks right at my mother there on the couch. And my mother looks back at the dog.  After about a minute of them both staring at each other like that, my mother burst into tears." Clem took a sip of the coffee— even black, it was good.  A taste she'd missed. "Beautiful dog, no tags, no collar," Locke continued. "Healthy and sweet. The dog slept in Jeannie's old room, on Jeannie's old bed, and stayed with us until my mother passed five years later, then disappeared back to..." he gestured vaguely, "wherever it was she came from in the first place."

"So..." Clementine said, "you're saying the dog was your sister?"

Locke looked over at her. "Well, that would be silly." He chuckled. "But my mother thought it was. Thought that Jeannie had come back to tell her the accident wasn't her fault." He put a hand to his head. "Let her off the hook."

Sawyer just stared at the ground, and Locke looked at him, then grinned. Clem smiled, too.

— ◒ —

"You know, I take comfort knowing, someday, this is all going to be a real nice shopping complex. Maybe even an auto mall."

Clementine rolled her eyes a little, stepping away from their path when she saw something in the corner of her eye. There was a deep divot in the dirt— a sign of a boar. "Where you going?" Sawyer asked her, interrupting his own thought. She paused next to the dirt, and Sawyer followed her, looking down at it.

"Know what that is?" she asked him.

"A hole in the mud," he guessed.

"It's a wallow."

"What the hell's a wallow?"

Clem scanned the area as she explained. "Boar's wallow. It's his den where he sleeps." She spotted some scratches on a trunk nearby and walked over to them. The bark was rough under her fingers. "Look at these tree rubbings from his tusks."

"You mean he's around here?"

"Maybe," she said. After she'd finished speaking, they heard squealing in the distance, a small sound coming from just ahead of them. They paused for a moment, hearing where it had come from, and Sawyer ran off into the leaves. "Wait— Sawyer!"

Before she could stop him, she heard a loud squeal, and then a "Aha, gotcha!" Sawyer came back seconds later holding a small, black piglet, screeching and squealing in his hands.

"I thought it'd be bigger," she said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Funny," he deadpanned. "Now we know daddy's gotta be around here." He held the pig up, calling loudly, "Here, piggy, piggy, piggy!"

"Sawyer, put it down. That's not funny," she said.

Sawyer got louder. "Here, piggy, piggy!" He shook and scared the young boar— it continued to squeal.

"Put it down!"

He continued to call. "Piggy, piggy!!"

"What is the matter with you, Sawyer! You're gonna hurt it!"

"We're here!"

"Not funny!"

"Here, piggy—!"

Clementine interrupted him, reaching to grab the piglet from his hands. He swung it away, but as he was distracted with her arms' reach, she kicked him in the shin, hard. He stumbled, and the pig flew out of his grasp and ran into the bushes. He reached for it as he fell, but the piglet was too quick for him. "You're sick," Clem scowled at him as he stood up.

"I didn't hurt it," he said back.

Clementine bit her lip and turned around, walking south back towards camp. "Find your own way home."

"No problem!" he yelled back.

While she was insanely annoyed with Sawyer's stupidity, anger, and complete disregard for nature, she couldn't just leave him 5 miles into the jungle, especially with that thing out there. Whatever it was, a couple 9 millimeter bullets weren't going to kill it. She decided to follow him still, far behind. He wouldn't be able to track her, anyway. He seemed to just be blindly roaming through the jungle in the direction they'd come from.

He called her name a few times, but she wanted to stay behind. Just as he called "Clementine!" for a fourth time, there was a snort and a sniffle from beside him. The 300 pound boar stood in front of him, tauntingly. Sawyer furrowed his brows and glared at it, slowly taking out his gun and turning the safety off. Clementine stood against the trunk of a tree nearby, watching, waiting.

As he aimed the gun, the boar did not move. It, too, seemed to be waiting. He snorted again and just stared at the blond in front of him, aiming the gun right at its head. After only a few more seconds, Sawyer's expression began to soften. He lowered the gun and clicked the safety back on, placing it at his side. Sawyer looked at the boar for another couple moments, then Clem stepped forward, and he turned to face her.

"It's just a boar," he said, frustration still lacing his tone. "Let's get back to camp." He walked off.

— ◒ —

It was a clear afternoon on the beach. Waves lapped peacefully onto shore as Jin, the Korean man, used a makeshift net to catch fish in the water. Walt threw a stick at his dog, who ran out and brought it back quicker than lightning, and Charlie and Claire walked along the shore, chatting and smiling at each other. Clementine sat up the beach near the tree line, people-watching.

After a little while, Jack stepped up next to her. He'd been wearing the key to the Halliburton around his neck— Clem had no idea how he'd found it. The doctor took a seat next to her, and they didn't speak for a few seconds, just staring out at the survivors on the beach. "How'd you get him to do it?" Jack asked her, breaking the silence.

"Do what?" she asked, turning to him.

"Sawyer," Jack said. "He gave me back the gun. How'd you get him to do it?"

Clem tilted her head. "He gave you back the gun?"

Jack chuckled, turning back towards the ocean. "I'm guessing you had nothing to do with it."

"Not that I know of," she said with a smile.

"You're the only person in this place he seems to like," Jack told her, still looking out at the beach.

"Tolerate, maybe. Definitely not like."

Jack chuckled a little.

Chapter Text

Everything was looking up.

Claire was back and healthy, Ethan was dead and buried, and Michael had quite a raft going for them. They'd send a few survivors out, hope to come into a shipping lane, and send someone out to rescue the rest of them. It all seemed well.

It was quiet on the beach today. Clem actually let Shannon paint her nails for once, and they were both enjoying the distraction. It felt more like a beach vacation and a little less like a tragedy.

"Can I ask you something?" Shannon asked, starting on the second coat of the lavender Clem had picked. Shannon only had two colors.

"Shoot," said Clementine, watching Shannon's careful strokes.

"What do you think of Sayid?"

"What do I think of him?" Clementine repeated. "He's a good guy. Really smart. Saved our asses a good few times. Why?"

"Well, you know I helped him with the French translations."

Clem nodded. "The ones that turned out to be song lyrics."

"Yeah," she said.  "Well, after, as thanks, he gave me this bathing suit he found in the wreckage, as a sort of gift, you know." She was rambling. "He's been really sweet to me. I really like him."

Clementine beamed. "Shannon!" she said. "Oh my God, that's so sweet. Has he kissed you or anything yet?"

"No." Shannon was smiling too, looking down as she finished Clem's left hand, then moved onto the right. "But I really hope he does."

"Shannon, that's amazing," Clem said, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder as she looked up.

"Your nails," she scolded.

"Oops," she said, looking at the dented ring and pinky finger. "Sorry. She put it back on Shannon's lap. But I'm really happy for you. At least one good thing has come out of this hell."

Shannon chuckled. "I know," she said. "So, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You and Sawyer, right?"

Clem scoffed. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Not in a million years."

"Oh come on," said Shannon, moving on to fix the imperfections Clem had made in her left fingernails. "You guys are close. You don't like him at all? You're the only person he seems to even remotely smile at."

"Other than Kate. And you sometimes."

"Okay, he's got eyes for any good looking girl around here. I've got Sayid, and Kate only has eyes for Jack. You know that." She was concentrating on Clem's hand. "That leaves you and him."

"He annoys me."

"He annoys everyone."

Clementine sighed just as Shannon looked up from her hands and closed the cap to the nail polish. She looked at her manicure and smiled. "Thank you," she said to her friend.

"You're avoiding the question."

"What question?"

"Do you like him or not?"

"Oh come on, Shan, this isn't high school."

"There's no entertainment around here. Give me something to wait for, Clem."

She sighed again, rolling her eyes playfully. "Alright," she said finally, shaking her head. "He's... I like him. He makes it difficult, but I like him."

"God, I knew it," she said. "I knew you weren't just bumming him for cigarettes."

"Don't go around announcing it to the whole island."

"Trust me," said the blonde, smiling at her. "This is purely for my own entertainment."

"I'm glad my horrible life choices amuse you."

As she was finished with her sentence, she heard shouting down the beach— Jin, the Korean man that had crashed onto the island with them, was rushing toward his wife, Sun with a towel. She was wearing a bikini and standing at the edge of the water, and as he covered her with the towel, they bickered and shouted at one another in Korean.

He started pulling her up the beach, and she tripped over the sand with a small shout. Everyone seemed to be watching them. Jin and Sun often had little arguments, whether it was about what Sun was eating, what she was wearing, who she was sitting with... he seemed to always have a problem with it.

Just as Sun was standing back up, Michael jogged down the beach, yelling "Hey, hey, hey!" as the husband and wife fought over the towel. Michael pushed Jin away, saying, "Hey! Get your hands off her!"

Jin yelled at him in Korean, but Michael just kept going. "I swear to God, you put your hands on her one more time," he said, pointing at the man.

Jin pointed at him, placing a hand on his chest, but Michael swatted it off, and they simply glared at each other for a moment. Then, with a grunt, Sun slapped Michael across the cheek. They waited there for only a few more seconds before she and her husband walked back up the beach together.

"What was that about?" asked Hurley, walking up to Charlotte and Shannon. He sat down on the sand next to them as they turned to face him.

Shannon shrugged. "There's always something."

"I wish we could do something," Clem said. "I feel like they never know what's going on. I mean, do they even know about the French woman? The way the pilot had to turn us around?"

"I think they just need to relax," said Hurley. "Everyone around here does."

"He likes fishing," Shannon said. "He's either fishing, or fighting with his wife."

"Maybe we can go fishing," Hurley said.

"Do you know anything about fishing?" Clem said with a smile.

Hurley shrugged. "Sure I do. And anything I don't know, I'm sure he can show me."

"For both of their sake, I hope you get him to relax, Hurley," said Charlotte, patting him on the back.

— ◒ —

"This is sure coming along, Michael."

Clementine looked Michael's creation up and down. It was less of a raft and more of a boat— flat on top, made completely of bamboo, cable, and twine, with the underside being made of metal posts from the interior construction from the plane. The metal wasn't fully covered yet, but underneath that were two fully built pontoons for keeping the wooden wonder afloat. half of a mast was built up, and he'd already chosen the largest tarp to be his sail.

"Thank you," he said.

"Where's Walt?"

Michael looked out onto the beach, pausing once he saw his son in the distance. "Out with the dog," he said. "He's not really interested in this stuff." He chuckled.

"You need any help?"

"I'm good right now," he said, looking around. "But thank you."

"Yeah," said Clem with a nod. "Listen, I just wanted to ask... who's—"

"Coming with me?" he completed, brows raised as he stepped off the top of of the raft. He met Charlotte on the sand. "There's only so much room," he said, glancing at the rather grand creation behind him. They were lucky to have him here— without someone in construction, the rest of them wouldn't know nearly enough to build this. "I can only fit four. There's one spot left. But I've got a feeling you're gonna have to fight a few people for it."

Michael and his son were only two people. "Oh, I don't do well on water," she said, shaking her head. "But... who else is going with you?"

— ◒ —

"You're going on the raft?"

"Jealous, Sunshine?"

Clementine rolled her eyes. "Why?"

"Why?" he said, tilting his head. "Why not? I wanna get out of this dump. Don't you?"

"You seemed perfectly happy to me. I mean, you've got all this stuff." She gestured to his not one, but two tents, one a more secret stash than the other. He was sitting on the sand, reading a magazine, as she stood over him, arms crossed. "What's waiting for you out there?"

"More stuff than this," he said, chuckling as he closed the magazine. "Why are you so interested? Gonna miss me?"

She huffed. "All of a sudden, you're eager to go."

"I don't know if you noticed, Miss Sunshine, but this ain't exactly an island vacation," he said, gesturing around. "It's a plane wreck. And I'm looking to get back to my real life. But I guess you broke up with your real life in a note, huh?"

Clementine shut her mouth and glared at him. He just shrugged. "You know what? Forget it." She turned around and walked away.

"Have a nice day!" he called to her. Clementine walked faster, kicking sand back at him.

Honestly? She wasn't even sure why she cared so much. Sure, he'd had a sudden change of heart. But he was getting off this island. You know, the one with French crazy ladies, giant monsters, and other people that steal pregnant women? Why was Clementine so upset? Why would she ever want that damned cowboy to stay with her on this craphole island? And what made his business any of hers? It had never mattered until now. A few weeks ago, she'd have paid to ship him out of here, somewhere far, far away from her. So why were her feelings now so different?

He didn't have to do anything for her. Honestly, he probably didn't even care what she thought. She owed him, not the other way around. And who knows, maybe, if she was lucky, they'd send help, she'd get rescued, a big payout from Oceanic airlines, and she'd never have to see him again. She'd never have to pay up on that IOU.

But deep inside, she didn't really want that to happen. If Sawyer left, he wasn't coming back.

And she would miss him. Just a little.

— ◒ —

Clementine was sitting with Charlie, Claire, Shannon, and Boone around a small fire that night when they heard a shout a little ways' down the beach, down by the tree line closest to the water. Charlie took a couple steps away to see what the growing ruckus was about, and widened his eyes when a tall orange flame came into all of their view.

The raft was on fire.

As the fire grew larger, everyone seemed to be running to it, all tossing sand onto the raging flames. Michael ran up in great distress, Walt following close behind. "No, no," he said, tossing sand onto the raft.  Everyone's efforts were no use— the fire was already too big for anything they could do, but they tried anyway.

Michael turned to Sun, who was standing just beside Kate, a scowl on his face. "Where is he?" he asked her. "Where the hell is he?"

Sun said something in Korean, a little panicked.

"Where is he?" Michael repeated.

"She doesn't understand, man!" said Jack, shaking his head.

"Hey!" Michael shouted, shutting up Jack. "Where is he?"

"Back off," said Kate firmly.

"No, her husband did this and she knows!" he yelled. All heads were turned to them. "You trying to protect him now? Is that it?"

"She was with me!" Kate said. Just as she did, Walt ran past their conversation, then began throwing sand at the raft.

"Walt!" he said, running up to his kid. "No, Walt. Get back! Get back!" He pulled his son away as he flailed in his arms, still kicking sand at the burning boat. "No, Walt," he said. "It's done."

"Sun, wait!" Kate's voice called, as Clem turned to see her running away from the scene.  Michael turned after her.

"I'm gonna break his damn neck!"

There was more shouting as Kate and Jack stopped Michael from following her, holding him back. "Just take it easy, man!" said Jack. "We don't know that Jin did this."

"Are you serious?!" shouted Sawyer.

"Sawyer, shut up!" Jack yelled, firmly.

"Oh, come on, we saw him on the beach this morning!" argued Charlie.

"That doesn't mean that he torched the raft."

"Yeah, then who did, Jack?!" Michael yelled.

As the fire died down, so did the yelling and fighting. With more efficient ways of sand-tossing, what was left of the fire was put out— but only so much of the raft looked salvageable. Most of it was burnt to a crisp, charred and broken.  Michael would basically have to start from scratch.

Some part of Clementine was a little happy that their departure was delayed, if not stopped overall. She felt horrible about it, especially because it was Sawyer she was upset about. What did she care whether he stayed or went? Why did it matter so much?

— ◒ —

"What the hell did you do, Sawyer?"

Clementine was walking on the beach when she saw Sawyer and Jin walking down from the opposite direction. Jin was bleeding and had his hands tied behind his back. Sawyer pushed him onto the sand as he heard Clementine call out. Jin grunted, face now in the sand.

"Michael! Take it easy!" she heard a voice call from somewhere behind her. "Take it easy!"

Michael sprinted past her just as Sawyer untied Jin, who groaned as he rolled in the sand. She saw that his palms and wrists were badly burned. "I'll take it easy, alright!"

Hurley ran up from the water, where he'd been standing, "Hang on, man!" He stood in front of Michael, blocking him from Jin.

"Slow down, slow down!"

"Hey, man, you burned my raft?"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" called Jack, moving around in front of Michael with Hurley. "Calm down. Just calm down," he said firmly.

"Step aside, man!"

"Slow down."

"Just calm down."

Other people ran to the scene now, stopping short about 10 feet away and watching.

"You burned my raft?" Michael continued pointedly, trying to get around Jack and Hurley. "Why'd you burn my raft, man?!"

"Calm down, and think about it for a minute!" Jack said.

"Look at his hands, man!"

"Back off, Jack, it's got nothing to do with you!" Sawyer added.

"Shut it!" Jack pointed at him. "Look, everyone's gotta chill out!"

"Chill out? He burned the raft, man! He burned my raft!"

"You don't know that."

"You see his hands?"

"That doesn't mean—"

"Like hell it doesn't!"

"I think we all need to slow down."

"Stay out of this, Pufferfish!"

"Why aren't we talking about Sawyer beating him half to death?"

"Half to death? Sunshine, I been real merciful with this arsonist!"

"We don't know anything! I'm not gonna let anyone touch him until—"

Now standing, Jin spoke up, staring at his wife a few feet away. She simply breathed, not answering.

"What'd he say?" said Michael, as everyone turned to look at her.  Jin said something else, firmer this time.  Michael turned to him. "You said something to me?" said Michael defensively, walking up to him.

Jin said something back, angrily, just as Jack put a hand on his chest. "Say it again."

"Michael!"

"No, no, say it again, man!" he said louder.

"Michael."

Jin said another thing in Korean, a scowl on his face.

"Say it!"

Jin yelled this time as Michael shoved Jack aside, stomping through the sand. Clem gasped as he punched Jin square in the cheek, knocking him onto the ground. She was close to the action, and she felt a hand pull her backward. She took a few steps away just as Jin stood up, and looked beside her to see Sawyer, a firm look on his face.

"Hey!" Jack called, trying to grab at Michael.

"Easy, Doc!" Sawyer called. "One fight at a time."

"He's right," Sayid added, as Michael and Jin stared each other down. "This is between them."

Jack huffed and stepped away. Nearly all of them were there on the beach, watching. Jin's teeth were covered in blood. He spat more words at Michael, who then punched him in the stomach. He shouted as he fell, and groaned, getting up slower this time.

Everyone was quiet as Jin stood a third time, slowly, speaking another sentence through bloody, gritted teeth. Michael grabbed him by the shirt, raising his fist—

"Stop it!"

All heads turned to face Sun.

"Leave him alone!" she cried.

Everyone's mouths were agape in shock, or faces scrunched in confusion. Sun, who hadn't spoken a word of English other than the occasional "no," had now said two full sentences in their language. Even Jin looked confused.

"He didn't burn your raft," she said, after a few seconds of silence.

"You speak English?" said Charlie, aghast.

"Didn't see that coming," muttered Hurley.

"You understood us all this time?" Jack asked, taking a few steps toward her. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Your raft was already on fire when he arrived," she said, looking only at Michael. "He burned his hands trying to put it out."

"Then why did he run?" Michael snapped back, pointing at Jin.

Sun looked at her husband, then asked him something in Korean, calmly. He did not say a word back, and instead, just stared at her.

"Exactly," said Michael. "That's what I thought."

"My husband is many things," she said firmly. "But he is not a liar."

"You gonna lecture us about lying, Betty?" called Sawyer. "From the look on his face, even your old man here didn't know you speak English." He turned to the crowd. "How do we know she's not covering for him?"

"Because she isn't!" said another voice— John Locke, stepping down onto the beach. "Why would he burn the raft?" he continued, joining the crowd.

"He's been after me since day one! Everybody knows it—"

"Okay, it's personal," said Locke. "But why take it out on our best chance at getting off the island?"

Michael just stared.

"Why would any one of us block an attempt to get home?" Locke continued. "We're so intent on pointing the finger at one another that we're ignoring the simple, undeniable truth that the problem isn't here, it's there!" He pointed out toward the jungle behind him. "They've attacked us!" he shouted. "Sabotaged us, abducted us, murdered us! Maybe it's time we stop blaming us and started worrying about them!"

He started walking back into the jungle where he'd come from, but paused, turning around and throwing his hands up. "We're not the only people on this island, and we all know it!"

After a few moments of silence, Sun spoke up one more time. "He did not do it."

— ◒ —

The next morning was quiet. Charlie and Claire sat on the beach, eating breakfast, and Michael had begun work on the raft again— along with help from Jin. Sun was standing by the water in a bathing suit, and Clementine was a little up the beach, grabbing a few mangoes from their stores for breakfast.

Shannon walked up beside her with a smile on her face. She glanced at the brunette next to her, waiting for something.

"You're smiley today," Clem commented, cutting open the mango.

"I kissed Sayid," she said, holding her head high.

Clem turned to her, a smile growing on her face. "You did?"

"Yeah," she said, looking down at the sand. "It was..." She looked back up. "It was really nice."

"I'm really happy for you, Shan."

"Thanks, Clementine," she said. "Maybe you'll be next," she assumed, raising her brows.

"I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "Besides, he's leaving."

Shannon furrowed his brows. "Where?"

"Once that raft is ready, he's gone."

Shannon didn't seem to know what to say.

"It's okay," Clementine said, the smile still on her face. "I'm better off without him."

Shannon chuckled. "You probably are."

Chapter Text

Clementine walked through the jungle. It was a warm, clear afternoon. The waves lapped against the sand— they were bigger than usual today— and people bustled on the beach, gathering raft supplies, helping build, and going about their daily chores. People had gotten used to this life. Clementine had, too.

She and a few others had split up and gone out into the jungle to search for more fruit. The group had been running low for a few days now, and they'd decided they needed to gather a lot today, and make it last.  The trees in their area were picked clean.

Clem had set off northeastward, while the others had gone north and northwest.  Some were going in groups, but she'd opted to go alone, hoping for some peace and quiet on this hot day.  She made a mental note to go for a swim once the water calmed down.

Her alone time didn't last long— she'd been seeing footsteps on her walk, and she knew she'd run into someone sooner or later. She wasn't tracking them, but whoever they were was in the same area. That someone was Boone, who looked surprised to see her. "Hey, Clementine," he said, his voice cracking. "What are you doing all the way out here?" They were about a mile from the beach now.

"Looking for fruit," she said. "Everything's been picked clean all the way to the beach. Forty-five people tend to eat a lot. What are you doing?"

"Hunting," he said quickly. "Nothing much around, though."

"Hunting?" she said, furrowing her brows. She looked around quickly, then back at the brunet. "Where's Locke?"

"Dunno. He left," he said. "He was getting a little frustrated that we weren't finding anything."

They began to walk together, Clementine still heading northeast. "So, Locke taught you to hunt?"

"The basics," Boone said. "I'm not great. But I figured if I saw something, then we might be able to track it later. Once he comes back."

"Well, you might as well help me out," she said. "Here," she said, putting one of the four tote bags she'd brought to hold fruit into his arms.

He chuckled, taking it and looping it over his shoulder. "What made you think you could carry four bags of fruit on your own?"

"I didn't," she said. "But I figured I'd try."

"Hm."  They were quiet for a little while, looking at the surrounding trees as they walked.  "Hey, you know about all this stuff, right?" Boone said. "Hunting, tracking."

"I guess," she said with a shrug. 

"Where'd you learn?"  He was just making conversation. 

"My dad," she said.

"He took you hunting?"

"Yeah," she said. "He was big on all that stuff.  Real outdoorsy type."

"Huh," Boone said, nodding. "You guys used to go camping and stuff a lot?"

"Yeah," she said. "He started teaching me to hunt when I was eight." After glancing upward, Clem smiled. "Look," she said, nodding toward a tall papaya tree in the distance. They briskly walked toward it, collecting all the fruit left on the tree and continuing their conversation. "What about you?" she asked. "You ever go camping?"

Boone chuckled. "Yeah, right," he said jokingly, pulling a papaya off the tree. All the fruits on the ground below were half eaten or rotting, so they couldn't take those. "No.  My mom wasn't the outdoorsy type. More of a businesswoman. I run a business with her, actually. It's a wedding thing."

"Fancy," she said.

"What do you do in the real world?"

"Me?" she said immediately.  Her heart raced for a moment, but she let out a breath and continued talking. "It's boring. I'm a secretary at a little accounting firm."

"Good money?"

Clem chuckled. "Not really."

"Well, I guess we're lucky we get a big settlement, then."

She laughed, placing the last of the fruit on the tree in the bag.  Fifteen papayas total, split among two bags. "Yeah," she said.

"Should we head back to the beach?" he asked, gesturing at their rather full, heavy bags of fruit.

Clem shook her head. "I want to grab more," she said. "Let's see if we can find some mangoes or something." She continued northeast, and he followed.

"This isn't enough?"

"You don't catch any boar, so I have to venture out and get fruit."

"Funny."

"What do you think you're gonna do?"

"Huh?"

"With the money," she clarified. "What's the first thing you're gonna do?"

He sighed, thinking. "I don't know. Hire a good lawyer?"

"For what?" she said, confused.

Boone looked at her as if it were obvious. "Sue Oceanic. Get more money."

"Oh," she said, laughing a little. She adjusted the bag of papayas on her shoulder.

"What'll you do?" he asked.

"Buy a big house."

"A big house?" he asked.

"Mhm," she said, nodding. "It's gonna have a pool, and palm trees, and maybe an ocean view or something. And a three car garage. And a tennis court."

He raised his brows. "A tennis court. You play tennis?"

"Nope," she said. "But it's the principle of the thing."

He chuckled. "Why do you want a big house?"

"Long story short, I didn't have the greatest home life," she said. "When I was 16, my favorite thing to do was watch that home improvement channel. All day, all the time.  I'd just think about living in those houses all the time."

"Oh," he said.

"Why all the questions?"

He shrugged. "You're friends with Shannon," he said. "We could be friends too."

"Okay, my turn," she said. "Would you be surprised if I played tennis?"

He shook his head, smiling. "I mean, yeah," he said. "You're not exactly the tennis type."

"And what's a tennis type, Boone?"

"Shannon," he said simply.

She laughed. "Alright, I'll give it to you."

"Look," he said. Straight ahead was a full mango tree, filled with green fruit ready for the taking.  All they had to do was wait for it to ripen, which wouldn't be more than a few days.  "Mangoes or something," he quoted, looking over at her.

"Good," she said, walking up to it.  She examined one on the ground, and turned it over to find it bitten and rotten. She made a face, then kicked it away.  "Something keeps getting into them," she said. "You guys really haven't caught anything around here?"

Boone shrugged.

She huffed. "Take as many as you can."

She began climbing up the tree to get the highest fruits, leaving her bags on the ground.  "You're like Tarzan," he said.

She chuckled. "That's such a nice compliment."

"No, I meant—" he sighed. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I'm just messing with you," she said, picking a fruit. "Catch."  She threw down a mango, and Boone caught it, placing it in one of the empty bags.

"Your dad teach you to climb, too?"

"Nah," she said, tossing him another fruit. "I, um," she paused, grabbing the branch and sitting up straight. "That's a long story."

"We've got time."

"I was homeless for a while, until I was 23," she said.  "And on cold days, I liked to climb up in the trees in the park and watch the people ice skate on the lake.  The policemen who patrolled the park would yell at me.  But once I went high enough, they couldn't see me. So I'd just sit and watch."

Boone bit his lip.

"I know," she said, raising her brows. "It's okay. I didn't have the greatest life. But it got better."

"Well, that's good."

She tossed him another fruit. They continued quietly, throwing and catching, until she'd finished off the tops of the trees, then moved downward and continued, picking the tree dry and filling both bags. She hopped down from the tree, and with all their bags full, they began walking back toward the beach, quietly.

"So tell me about your life," she said.

"My life?" he said. "I don't know. You're not gonna like me very much if I tell you any more about my life."

"You had money," she said. "I know. Come on, I just told you stuff no one here knows about me. We're getting to know each other, right?"

He shrugged. "Mine and Shannon's parents married when we were young. She became a pain in my ass.  Etcetera, etcetera."

"Oh, come on," said Clementine. "I know you love her."

"I mean, sure I do," he said. "She makes it difficult, but I love her."

"What's so difficult about it?"

Here we go, thought Clem, smiling.

"She's not going to like me telling you this." He paused, looking down at their feet as they walked. She simply waited, knowing he was bound to talk eventually. She could see it in his face. "She used to always pick the wrong guys," he said. "It wasn't her fault. She didn't know any better. But she'd get hurt sometimes, and she'd call me up. And she's a good looking girl. Guys don't want to just drop her 'cause I asked them to, you know?" He sighed. "I paid them off," he said. "All of them. I give them a check, and they go."

"Is that what you were doing in Australia?"

Boone nodded. "France, New York, Australia, a couple other places, too. She's not the greatest judge of character." He sounded annoyed. Or exhausted, maybe.

"Well, she's changing for the better," Clem added. "She and Sayid are doing great."

Boone looked away from Clem. "Yeah, sure," he said, notes of sarcasm in his voice.

"You don't like him?"

"The Iraqi torturer? He's great."

"Boone," she scolded.

"You know something?" he said, turning to her. His sharp features were scrunched in frustration, and his blue eyes had a sort of sadness in them. "She didn't need saving," he said. "She knew I was paying them off. She was taking half the money for herself. In Australia, the guy... he ran away with it.  That's the only reason she came crying to me. She uses them," he said, stopping their walk. "She uses every single one of them, and when she's done, she throws them away."

Clementine looked at him. "And you feel used."

Boone sighed, shaking his head.  He turned back away and kept walking.

"People change, Boone."

"Oh, we crash on an island and suddenly she's a saint?" He was walking quickly, and Clem struggled to stay close, especially with the heavy bags of fruit over her shoulder.

"I think the both of you can handle yourselves," she said. "I don't think that Shannon needs you to save her anymore. Sayid's not a bad guy.  She's not using him, and she's not using you."

He said nothing, continuing to walk.

"We all get a new life on this island," she said, stopping her walk. "Maybe it's time you started yours."

Boone paused, then turned around to look at the brunette behind him.  His face was blank. She took a few steps to catch up to him. "You don't have to worry anymore."

They walked quietly for the next 20 minutes, keeping to themselves. It was humid today, and it would probably rain tonight. Clementine was keeping her fingers crossed for no thunder. The only sounds now was the wind pushing the tops of trees and their feet trudging through the flora and fauna. The fruit they were holding seemed to get heavier with each step, especially because there was no distraction from the weight over their shoulders.

"You think our parents miss us?" asked Boone, finally breaking their silence. Finally, a distraction.

Clem smiled a little. "My dad, maybe."

"Why not your mom?"

"She's dead."

"Oh," said Boone, looking down at the ground. "Um, how old was she?" He was just making conversation. Good, Clem thought. Better to be distracted.

"Only 42," she said.

"Forty-two?" he repeated. "How old are you?"

Clementine chuckled. "She and my dad got married young," she said. "She had me when she was seventeen. She died in '99."

"I'm sorry," he said. "How'd she die?"

"Don't be," she assured him. "I, um... don't know how she died. I didn't ask. We hadn't spoken in years."

"Oh."

"What about you?" Clem said quickly, changing the subject. "How do you think your parents are doing?"

"I don't know," he said. "I haven't seen my dad in ages. And my stepdad, he died a while back."

"And your mom?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I was a pain in her ass."

"I'm sure she misses you."

He shrugged. "She and I ran the business together, but we didn't always agree about things."

"Well, that's parents."

— ◒ —

As they finally stepped onto the beach, they put their bags onto the sand, letting out a breath of relief.  They dragged them toward the stores for the food and placed them with the rest of their stock.  It looked like the others had already come back, a fresh bunch of mangoes and bananas sitting on their bamboo table.

"So, Clementine," said Boone, picking up a few papayas they'd dropped on the ground. "That's an interesting name."

"I could say the same thing about Boone."

"Ha."

"Clementine's not my name," she said. "It's a nickname my dad gave me. My name is Charlotte."

"Why do you introduce yourself as Clementine, then?"

She looked at him. "Charlotte is a prissy name."

He chuckled. "Is it?"

"You know a lot of Charlottes?"

"Yeah, actually I—"

"There you go."

He gave her a look.

"Just being honest," she said, shrugging.  Their bags were now empty. "Thanks for your help, by the way," she said.

"Thanks for yours."

She smiled. "I think you do just fine on your own."

"I'm glad you and Shannon are friends."

"Well, you and I are friends, aren't we?"

"People who like Shannon tend to not like me."

"I've learned not to believe everything she says," she said, patting his shoulder.

He chuckled. "Thanks for the talk, Clementine."

Chapter Text

For the past few weeks, even before they knew she spoke English, Sun had been cultivating a wonderful garden for the group. She used the seeds from the fruits they'd collected around the area and planted them in rows. They were just now beginning to sprout, a perfect little green piece of hope.

"You're sure? Because this is the one I've been using and nothing's happening."

"I'm sorry it's not helping."

Clementine walked into Sun's garden grove to find Sawyer kneeling in front of her holding two different leaves.  "What's not helping?" Clem chimed in.  Both Sun and Sawyer looked at her.

"Nothin,'" he said. He stood up, then looked back at Sun. "Thanks anyway. Nice garden." He walked away with a sigh.

"What was that all about?" Clementine asked, taking out a bottle of water from her pack and handing it to Sun. She nodded in thanks.

"He has headaches," she said.

"Doesn't he have, like, a truckload of aspirin stashed somewhere?"

"He says aspirin didn't help." 

"Huh," said Clementine, looking at him walking back down to the beach in the distance. 

She stood up, smiled at Sun, then followed him back down to his tent on the beach. When he walked up to his tent, he placed both the leaves inside, then came back out to find Clementine standing there, arms crossed.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Headaches, huh?"

He huffed, rolling his eyes.

"How long has this been going on?"

"I don't need a nurse."

"You should tell Jack," she said. "What if there's something wrong?"

"I'm fine," he said, walking past her. She turned and watched him go.

— ◒ —

On his refusal to see Jack, Clementine decided to take matters into her own hands. She headed up into the caves and found Jack shaving in front of a cracked compact mirror. She waited for him to spot her, not wanting to interrupt.

"Hey, Clementine," he said, still staring in the mirror, shaving his chin with a rather rusty razor. "Need something?"

"I just had a question," she said. "Say you're having bad headaches. Every day."

He stood up tall, looking away from the mirror. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, nodding.

He turned back to the mirror. "So who are we talking about, then, Clem?"

"Sawyer," she said.

"Uh-huh," he said, continuing to brush the sides of his face with the razor.

"I just think there might be something wrong with him."

He chuckled. "I can agree with you there."

She shook her head, smiling a little. "Come on, Jack."

"What does he think?" Jack asked, putting the razor in a small toiletry case.

"He says he's fine, but—"

"Then he's fine." Jack stepped away from the mirror and up onto one of the rocky platforms and put the bar of soap and towel back amongst his other belongings.

"Yeah, well, he's probably playing it down. There could be something—"

"Look, Clementine," he said, turning back around. "I'd love nothing more than to check the guy out and make sure he's okay, but we both know all I'm gonna get for my trouble is a snappy one-liner."  He shook his head. "And if I'm real lucky, a brand-new nickname. I'm just over it."  He dropped the last of his items, the razor, into a metal bowl.

"I get it," she said. "He's an asshole.  But come on."

"You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

"Really?" she said, tilting her head.

"Sorry," he shrugged.

Clementine sighed.

— ◒ —

"Is it serious yet?"

"I mean, not exactly," Shannon told her. They were talking on the beach now, sitting near the shore and letting the water tickle their toes as it came up to meet the sand. It was a humid afternoon. "We're not calling it anything," she continued, looking out at the water. "But we like each other a lot. We're just taking it slow."

"Good for you, Shannon," she said. "At least something good's come out of all this."

"It gives me a little hope," she replied.

"I know," agreed Clementine. "I—"

Then, among the sounds of people bustling on the beach, there was a shout of, "You wanna keep it down?" from a disgruntled Sawyer, trying to sit against a tree and close his eyes. The headaches, Clementine thought.

"What's up with him?" Shannon said.

Clem sighed, standing up. "If you'll excuse me," she said. Shannon watched her walk up to the beach right up next to Sawyer, just as he was about to place the wet cloth back onto his eyes.

"That's it," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Get up."

"What?" he said.

She grabbed onto his forearm and pulled, saying, "Get up." He sighed as he did so. "You're going to Jack," she said.

"Do I get a lollipop?"

She gave him a push.

— ◒ —

"When did the headaches start?" Jack asked calmly. Clementine had dragged him up to the caves, and they were now in Jack's makeshift doctor's office, a part of the caves he'd dedicated to keeping medical supplies and treating anyone who needed it.  He was now slowly waving a pen in front of Sawyer's face, having the blond follow it with his eyes.

"A few days ago. A week, maybe," Sawyer answered.

Jack continued moving the pen, watching Sawyer's pupils follow it.  Sawyer caught Clementine out of the corner of his eye. "Do you have to be here?" She gave him a look.

"Do you have them when you wake up in the morning?" asked Jack. Instead of moving the pen left and right, he changed to pulling it back and forth.

"Usually they hit me middle of the day." He scrunched his brows, still staring at the pen as Jack had requested. "What the hell are you doing with that thing?"

"Checking to see how your pupils respond to changing stimuli." 

Sawyer blinked a few times, brows still furrowed in concentration. Jack removed the pen, then nodded and walked back to the airline cart where he kept all his supplies.  "What's that?" Sawyer asked. "That nod?"

"Would you just let him do his thing?" Clem chimed in.

He turned to her. "I'm lettin' him, but I wanna know what the hell he thinks I should—"

"I think you should just shut up and relax," Jack said, walking back to his patient.  He then snapped his fingers right next to his ear and Sawyer cringed from the sudden noise.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Have you ever had a blood transfusion?"

"What?" Sawyer said. "No."

Jack wrote something down on a tattered notepad. "Taken pills for malaria?"

"Nope."

"Have you ever had sex with a prostitute?"

Sawyer looked up at him. Jack just tilted his head, waiting on his answer. "What the hell's that got to do with anything?"

"Is that a yes?"

Sawyer looked down, exhaling forcefully. "Yes," he said through gritted teeth, looking up at Jack. The doctor wrote on his notepad.

Clementine smiled to herself.

"And have you ever contracted a sexually transmitted disease?"

Sawyer glared.

"I'm gonna take that as another yes."

"When was the last outbreak—"

Sawyer stood up. "Go to hell, doc." He walked out of the caves without looking at Clementine.

Just as he left, Kate walked in with arms full of freshly cut firewood from the beach. "What's he upset about?"

"Some invasive health questions," said Clementine. "I know he deserved it, Jack, but—"

"He needs glasses," Jack said simply.

Clementine just laughed.  Jack smiled at her, and she stood.  "You're good," she said. "Did you know before or after you asked him about his latest outbreak?"

"You what?" Kate said, smiling as she placed the firewood among their other stores.

Jack chuckled. "I'd tell you, Clem, but... you know.  Doctor patient confidentiality."

"Right," she said. "Do you have glasses?"

He nodded, then went into the airline cart and opened a cabinet, pulling out a small shoebox. He shook it once, and it made a noise.

"Is there some sort of doctor-y technical name for needing glasses?" she asked.

"Sure," Jack said. "Why?"

She looked at Kate, who smiled.  "He's gonna think he has something," Clem said.

Kate chuckled. "Still can't believe you treated him," she told Jack.  She looked at Clem. "He was complaining, you know."

"I'm sure," Clementine said. "Let's go down to the beach and tell him he has—" She waited for Jack to complete her sentence.

"Hyperopia."

"Right."

— ◒ —

Sawyer was sitting on the beach reading A Wrinkle in Time by his tent. His laundry was drying on some twine he'd hung nearby, and he was squinting at the book. They walked up to him, and Clementine stood back, allowing Jack to do his thing. "If you've come to make me give him a stool sample, you can forget it," he said, looking at her.

"You've been reading a lot," Jack said, tossing down the shoebox onto the sand, "since we came to the island."

"Okay. So what?"

Jack knelt down in front of him, taking his backpack off his shoulders and putting it aside. "You, uh..." Jack looked at the ground. "You've got, uh..." Sawyer waited for the answer with furrowed brows. Jack looked back up at him. "You've got hyperopia."

Sawyer's brows lifted. "Hyperopia?" he repeated.  He leaned forward, mouth agape as he sighed and looked at the ground. "That's, uh..." He looked back at Jack. "What is that?"

"You're farsighted."

Sawyer tilted his head and thinned his eyes. "Farsighted."

Clementine chuckled a little as Jack continued. "It can develop later in life, especially when you add a new strain to the eyes like reading." He dug through the shoebox full of glasses, then handed Sawyer a pair of thick, black rimmed ones. He took them reluctantly, then pushed his hair out of the way and put them on. They were giant.

Sawyer squinted, and Jack held up A Wrinkle in Time in front of him. Sawyer shook his head and took them off. "Blurry."

"Too bad, I liked those," Clementine said.

Sawyer tilted his head and gave her a sarcastic smile as Jack handed him another pair— these were much smaller, daintier, and had rhinestones on the rims.  "Better or worse?" Jack asked, holding up the book. 

Sawyer looked through the oval-shaped lenses and sighed. "Worse."

Jack pulled out a pair of cat-eye rimmed ones and unfolded them.  "Uh-uh. No way," Sawyer protested.

"Sawyer, it's not a fashion show," Jack said.

Sawyer sighed, putting them on. "Still blurry," he said. "Little better than the last two."

"Okay," said Jack, mostly to himself.

"Can I pick?" asked Clementine, taking a few steps over to them and kneeling next to Jack. Sawyer gave her a thinned-eyes look, but she ignored him.

"Anything thicker than this," Jack said, holding up the cat-eye glasses.  Clementine nodded, digging through to find something with thick lenses. She spotted a pair of circular glasses with thin rims and thick glass, pulling them out and holding them out for Sawyer to take.

Sawyer looked at her, his expression saying, really? Clementine just nodded, and Sawyer took them and put them on.

"Thank God," he said. "Worse."

Jack nodded, then pulled out a pair of ladylike green-rimmed glasses for him to try out, then held out the book for him to read. "Better," Sawyer said. "It's clear. But this one—" he pointed to his right eye— "still blurry." He took them off.

"Okay," said Jack.  "We might have to improvise. Here, Clementine, hold onto these," he said, handing her the green pair. "Cover your left eye," he told Sawyer, handing him another pair of glasses. Sawyer put them on, then covered his eye and read the book Jack held in front of him. He blinked. "Good," he said. "Better." He took them off.

"Okay," said Jack, handing the second pair over to Clementine.

"What are you gonna do, fuse them together?" she asked.

Jack stood. "I'm gonna try." He motioned her over, and she followed him down the beach.

"Hey," Sawyer said. Clementine stopped as Jack continued up the beach. "Thanks," he said.

She smiled, then walked after Jack.

— ◒ —

After an initial failure, they went straight to Sayid, who had the perfect tools to melt the plastic at the center of the two pairs of glasses, then heat it back up and fuse it together. After 30 minutes, Jack picked up the glasses from Sayid, and Clementine followed him back to Sawyer's tent, where he sat, eyes closed, a wet towel over his head.

They handed Sawyer their pair of Frankenstein glasses and he looked at them with slight disgust, then reluctantly put them on. Jack held out a notepad, on which was written "Better or Worse?"

"Har, har, very funny," Sawyer commented upon reading the clear handwriting.

Jack smiled, satisfied, and stood up, gathering his things.

"Dude," Hurley said, walking past them, "looks like someone steamrolled Harry Potter."

Clementine laughed, and Sawyer quickly looked down and took off the glasses. Sawyer gave her a look, and she stopped, still smiling at him. Jack smiled, too. "You love this, don't you?" Sawyer said to him.

Jack just walked past him, giving him a pat on his shoulder. "You're welcome," he said. Then he walked toward the path to the caves.

Sawyer pursed his lips, then put the glasses back on and looked up at Clementine. She leaned down, looking into his eyes, raising her brows and giving a sarcastic smile and nod of approval. Sawyer rolled his eyes, then looked down.

"I like them," she said, standing up straight again.

"No you don't," he said, tilting his head.

"They're not ideal," she said. "But come on. No more headaches, right?"

"With you around? I don't know. They might keep coming."

"You're funny," she said, taking a seat on the sand next to him. "I know you like me."

He looked at her. "Nope."

"Mm-hmm." She grabbed the book from beside him and opened to the folded page. "Here," she said. "Read to me."

"Why, you never learned?" he remarked.

"The big words are hard," she joked. She waved the book at him again, and he took it.

"You don't even know how it started."

"That's okay. We're testing your new glasses."

"I'm—"

"Just read, James."

He turned away from her, sighing. "The trees were lashed into a violent frenzy," he began. "Meg screamed and lashed and clutched at Calvin, and Mrs. Which's authoritative voice called out, 'Quiet, child!'

"Did a shadow fall across the moon or did the moon simply go out, extinguished as abruptly and completely as a candle? There was still the sound of leaves, a terrified, terrifying rushing. All light was gone. Darkness was complete. Suddenly the wind was gone, and all sound. Meg felt that Calvin was being torn from her. When she reached for him her fingers touched nothing." He paused. "Should I keep going?"

"Yes," she said, moving closer to read the words over his shoulder. No other reason. 

He continued reading. She took comfort in the sound of his voice, his southern drawl that curled up the ends of the words in a way that was almost familiar. It was familiar.  She'd been surrounded by it for a little more than a month now, his constant remarks or nicknames always hanging in the air. He was the one thing on this island that was always constant for Clementine. She wished he wouldn't leave.

They were closer now than they'd ever been. Even that kiss they'd shared wasn't as intimate as this wonderful moment. As the sweet, low sound of his voice recited words that weren't exactly reaching Clementine's brain, she found herself tired. Her legs leaned on his, their shoulders touched, and now, she began slowly curling into him, a hand on his forearm and her head on his shoulder.  He said nothing, and continued reading.  Noticing her head closer, he lowered his voice just a touch.

It was peaceful. But it was only a moment.

Chapter Text

As the sun began to hide behind the clouds, Clementine and Sawyer joined Michael, Walt, and Jin for dinner— fish roasted over a warm fire. Instead of eating, however, Jin continued to work on the raft as they cooked their dinners. Claire walked past them, glancing back at Jin hammering on the raft as she went.

"Hey, Mamacita," Sawyer called to her. She turned her head and stopped in front of them. "Want some fish?"

"No thanks," said Claire with a smile. "Not really hungry." She glanced at the raft. "How long do you think?" she asked Michael. "Til' it's ready?"

"Maybe a week. Maybe less," Michael replied. Claire nodded. "You okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Alright, I'll see you guys later." She continued walking down the beach.

"She likes me," said Sawyer, a cheeky smile on his face. Clementine elbowed him, and Michael just shook his head.

"Hey, Jin!" Michael called. "Jin, want some fish? Take a break. Eat some fish."

Jin just continued working, shaking his hand in his direction as if brushing off the offer. They watched him continue to hammer metal into shape around the bamboo pontoons of the raft.

"Man's got what I call an overzealous work ethic," said Sawyer.

"Try 'obsession,'" Michael added. "He wants off this island bad, man."

"Can't say I blame poor Kato. His lady speaks English all this time, and he didn't have a clue?" He took another bite of his fish. "Surprised he didn't swim outta here. Hell, I would've."

Just then, Kate came running out of the jungle from the path to the caves.  She was out of breath and in distress. "Sawyer, I need all your alcohol," she said urgently. "Now!" 

Sawyer's face dropped, and he stood up immediately. Clementine followed them to his stash. "What the hell's going on?" he asked, matching Kate's quick pace.

"It's Boone," she said. "He's hurt. Badly."

Sawyer pulled a suitcase out of his tent and unzipped it. "How? What happened?" Clementine asked, as Sawyer removed the towel covering all the airplane bottles.

"Locke said that he fell off a cliff while they were out hunting boar," Kate explained, as the three of them carefully— but quickly— loaded the alcohol into Kate's backpack.

"The boar they never seem to get?" added Sawyer.

"Is that it?" Kate asked, as they placed the last of it into her bag.

"'Fraid so. You need anything else?" Sawyer asked. "We can come with you."

"Too many cooks already," said Kate, slinging the bag over her shoulder. "But thanks." She gave both of them a halfhearted smile, and headed back out toward the caves.

"I hope he's okay," Clem said, watching Kate go.

— ◒ —

"Harry, you didn't have to do all this."

"I know.  But I wanted to."

He'd created a perfect little candlelit dinner on his small balcony. He lived in a beautiful apartment only miles from the coast of Sydney. The sun was setting, and though the area was small, he'd managed to fit a little folding table and two chairs for them to sit at, complete with a plastic tablecloth. He's made pasta and vegetables, and had a bottle of wine sitting out for them.

"This is amazing," she said, as he pulled out a chair for her.

"All for you, Charlotte."

She smiled to him, but inside, her stomach was unsettled. She didn't deserve this. And if he knew who she was, what she'd done... he wouldn't want her anymore.

Harry sat down across from her, and they smiled at each other. "Happy birthday, Char," he said.

Just yesterday, Clementine had been back in the states, on a job for Bose. She was retrieving a late payment on something or another— Bose knew she didn't like details, so he never gave them to her. She didn't even like having the names of the people she killed. A face was all she needed. A place for her bullet to land. It was quick, and all she had to do was bring back his laptop, which had all of his bank information on it. Things were too easy these days.

Yesterday, she'd been a killer. Today, she was this perfect girlfriend, a person Harry chose to spend time with, chose to shower with gifts and favors and many other things Clementine just didn't deserve. And she was beginning to dislike being called Charlotte— it's what Bose called her.

And it wasn't even her real birthday.

She'd lied to Harry about that, just like she'd lied about what she did for a living and how she had all that money and her family life and her dead sister. It was January— summer in Australia, which was why she was spending the next week here. Anything to escape from the cold. Clementine's birthday was in April, and she didn't want him knowing anything about her that might reveal her true self.

It was a wonderful dinner, though she was having a hard time not getting nauseous. She felt like an actress, or some sort of imposter. She wasn't supposed to be here. I mean, she lived in a trailer for goodness sakes. When Harry came by, she'd borrow a friend's apartment and say it was hers. It didn't feel real, even if she desperately wanted it to. She wanted this. But she knew she couldn't have it. Harry didn't deserve her. He was too good.

As they chatted over dinner, Clementine's cell phone rang. She ignored it without even seeing who was calling, too caught up in this wonderful moment. "You can answer it, you know," he said. "Maybe it's your dad calling to say happy birthday."

"That's okay," she said. "I'm spending time with you right now."

But despite her wishes, the phone rang again.  And with their persistence, she knew exactly who was calling.

She sighed.

"It's okay, babe," he said, giving her hand a little rub across the table. "Take it. I'll be here." 

She slipped the phone out of her pocket, smiling as best she could at her boyfriend. "I'll be right back," she told him, standing and going inside the apartment.  She closed the sliding door behind her, and spoke quietly, hoping Harry wouldn't hear.  She made sure to smile every so often, playing it off as a family member with some well wishes for her pretend birthday,

"What do you want?" she said, pressing the talk button.

"Took you long enough," said the voice on the other end. "I've got a job for you."

Clementine exhaled.

"What?" Bose said.

"I'm away right now," she said. "Give it to someone else."

"This is a you kind of job," he said. "It has to be you."

"I don't want it, Bose. You usually wait months before giving me another job. Why now?"

"I need you. You work for me, Charlotte. I don't want to remind you again."

Charlotte was quiet for a moment. "Well, then, I quit," she said.

She heard a laugh on the other end. "Hurry back, alright Charlotte?"

"No," she said. "I'm done."

"You can't be serious."

"I won't do it anymore," she said. "I just can't. You can find someone else."

"You're making a mistake."

"Come and find me if you want," she said. "Kill me. I don't care. I have no one to tell your secrets to. But I'm not going to work for you anymore."

He sighed. "You're sure?"

It took her a moment to reply. "Yes."

She hung up the phone.

— ◒ —

"Clementine. Clementine!"

She looked up to find Charlie standing over her, a small notebook in his hands. His voice was laced with urgency. "What's up, Charlie?" she said, concerned.

"Do you know your blood type?"

She furrowed her brows. "My blood type?"

He nodded.

"Why?" she asked, standing. "What for?"

"Jack said Boone needs a transfusion," he explained. "He's losing blood. A lot of it. We need an A negative."

"I'm sorry, Charlie," she said. "I have no idea."

He exhaled. "That's okay. Thanks anyway." He turned to walk away, but stopped himself. "Oh," he said, "have you seen Shannon?"

"She's not with you?"

"I'll take that as a no."

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head.

"It's alright," he said with a nod. "I know you're friends and all."

"I'll look around," she said. "She's probably off with Sayid somewhere. I'll see if I can find her."

"Thanks," said Charlie, and with that, he ran off, walking up on someone else.

— ◒ —

No luck.

Shannon was nowhere to be found, and according to Sun, he was just getting worse. It was dark now, and Jack would be sitting there with him, giving his own blood over to Boone with needles from a sea urchin and tubes from an oxygen mask. Maybe if they'd been in a hospital, they could help him. Maybe if they had more medical supplies. Another doctor. But no matter how many possibilities she went through, Boone was still dying, and there was only so much Jack could do to save him.

It was quiet on the beach. Clem was afraid to go up to the caves and see.

All they had now was hope, and she was losing that, too.

She hadn't talked to anyone since she heard about Boone's condition. Now, she sat alone, awake, rocking back and forth as the waves came up and down in front of the water, the moon's light sparkling upon them. It was probably 2 in the morning when Hurley came by and sat next to her without a word.

Minutes went by, and they simply sat, staring out at the water and listening to the calming sound of the waves. "I know what you're here to tell me," she said. "I don't..." She sighed, hugging her knees a little closer.

Hurley put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked over at him. "He's gone," she said, "isn't he?"

"Yeah," he said. "He's gone."

Clementine exhaled a shaky breath, then bit her lip, holding back the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes. She looked back out at the ocean. "Shannon," she said. "Shannon doesn't know."

"No one's seen her," he said. "Or Sayid. Jack told me..." He paused. "He said you should be the one to tell her."

"What?" She whipped her head around, facing him again. "No." She shook her head. "Not me. It has to be Jack."

"You're the closest with her," he explained.

She shook her head again. "I can't," she said. She swallowed. "Jack tried to save him. It would be... it would be easier if she heard it from him. Trust me. It has to be Jack."

"Okay," said Hurley breathily.

"You think you're gonna get any sleep tonight?"

He chuckled weakly. "Nope."

"Good," said Clementine. "We can start a club."

— ◒ —

"Welcome back," Harry said, smiling as he watched her take her seat. "Who was it?"

"You were right," she said, gesturing with the phone. "My dad."

"I'm psychic."

"That you are."

"I missed you."

She laughed. "I was gone for a few minutes, Harry."

"I know," he smiled.

"Listen," she said, reaching across the table to take his hand, "I want to stay a little longer.  Only if that's okay with you."

He took her hand. "Of course," he said cheerfully. "Charlotte, you don't have to ask me that. Any time you want to stay, you come and stay. As long as you want."

"Thank you," she said, smiling.

"You alright?" he asked. "Something happen back home?"

"No," she said. "I just... I need some time away from all that."

"Work's not going to miss you?"

She chuckled. "No."

"Well, good," he said. "I'm glad you're staying."

"You're amazing, Harry," she said. "I don't deserve you."

"I beg to differ."

After a perfect little birthday cake and a late night birthday present, Clementine and Harry went to bed. She stayed two weeks that trip— their longest time together since meeting. But with every second spent there, she had that horrible feeling. She didn't belong here.  She was putting off going back home and hiding away from her true self, the person who'd just quit her job, the person who'd killed all those people.  The person that Harry could never find out about.

She didn't know why she ever said 'yes' to that very first date. After so long, perhaps she longed for a normal life, some sort of illusion of domesticity.  She wanted everything that Harry was offering.  But she couldn't do that to him. He deserved better.

Even so, she kept it going, even if she felt selfish.  It was a web of lies she'd created just for him, a version of herself that only existed for his eyes.  He believed every word that came off her tongue, and enjoyed every moment he spent with her.  But Clementine was a killer, and she'd always known it. It was only a matter of time before Harry found out. So when would it end?

— ◒ —

Just as the sun rose over the horizon, long after Hurley and Clementine had fallen asleep right there on the sand, chatter engrossed the beach. They both greeted each other good morning with a tired smile, then walked up to go see what everyone was gathering around. Kate, Charlie, Jin, and Claire walked out of the jungle, all grinning ear to ear. And smiles seemed to grow on everyone else's faces, too, as they saw the newborn baby in Claire's hands.

Clementine felt a tear come from her eye. She wiped it away quickly, walking up to the new mother and smiling at her baby. Walt came up in front of her curiously. "Congrats, Claire," Clementine said, patting Claire's shoulder. Everyone around seemed to be chattering, whether it was wishing her congratulations, remarking on how cute the baby boy was, or commenting on his size. Clementine stepped back, allowing a few more people to come forward from the gathering. Now, she happened to be standing next to Sawyer, who was smiling as he looked over Hurley's shoulder at the child.

"I knew it," said Clementine. He seemed to have not noticed she was there, because he whipped his head around, brows raised.

"You knew what?" he asked.

"I knew there was a human in you somewhere," she said.

"Oh, come on," he said, shaking his head. "It's a baby. You expect me not to smile at a baby?"

She chuckled. "Relax," she said, putting a hand on his back. "I'm just messing with you."

"I haven't seen you since..." He trailed off as their conversation began to move to the side of the crowd. "I heard about..." He wasn't good at this sort of thing. "You okay?" he said finally.

She smiled weakly. "Yeah. Okay."

He gave her a nod, then looked in the distance beside her. Sayid and Shannon had come from down the beach. They were holding hands, smiling as they walked through the sand, and Jack was walking toward them. She heard nothing of their conversation, but watched as their smiles faded. Shannon let go of Sayid's hand and took a step back, shaking her head. After a moment, Jack led her into the jungle, up toward the caves, and Sayid watched them go.

Clementine watched quietly as he walked up the beach, congratulated Claire solemnly, and walked back toward his tent, alone. She considered following him, but she wouldn't know what to say, or what to do, especially since talking about Boone at all might be especially hard. So, as the crowd began to disperse, giving Claire space, she headed back toward the water and stood in the sand, watching as the waves crashed over her feet and buried her toes deeper in the sand each time.

A life for a life.

Chapter Text

Shh.

Clementine had lost friends before. Friends she'd known for much longer, and much deeper friendships than she'd ever had with Boone (not that she'd had many deep friendships). But she'd never lost anyone like this, in this place.  She was connected to all these people in a different way.  She didn't know what it was, but the reality of Boone's death had hit her like a wall. And she hadn't even spoken to Shannon yet.

The water flowed quietly over her feet, causing her to sink further in the sand each time.  She didn't even know how long she'd been standing there and overthinking as the water splashed her knees and the sand tickled her toes.

"Hi, Clementine," said a calm voice, taking a step next to her. It was Sun.

"Hi," she said.

"You have been standing here for 10 minutes," she said. "I thought I might check on you."

"Thank you," she said.

"Boone was your friend, right?"

Clementine thought about their walk through the jungle. "Yeah," she said. "He was."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'm okay."

"I was there," Sun began, and Clementine turned to face her, "when he died. He knew what was happening to him," she explained. Clementine felt that lump in her throat again. "Jack was going to cut off his leg. It was infected."

"He was going to amputate him?"

Sun nodded. "When Locke dropped him to Jack, he said that he'd fallen off a cliff. But Boone spoke. He was awake. He told Jack that he'd been crushed, that something had fallen on him.  Jack had been treating him for what he thought had happened, and when he gave him the blood, it all went to the infection in his leg."

"Fallen on him?" Clementine asked. "What fell on him?"

"He said it was a plane," she said. 

"A— what?  Why would Locke lie?"

"I don't know," said Sun, shaking her head. "He didn't say where it was. Just a plane in the jungle had fallen on him.  I don't know why John Locke would say otherwise."

Clementine sighed.

"He told Jack not to do it," Sun explained. "He was brave. He made Jack let him go."

"Have you told Shannon all this?"

"I didn't want to disturb her," Sun said. "She's with him now.  I told Sayid.  He said he would pass the message on."

"That's good," she said, mostly to herself.  She looked back at the woman next to her. "Thank you, Sun."

"Are you going to stay here?" she asked. "If you need some company, I can stay."

Clementine thought about it. "That would be nice," she said. "Thank you, Sun."

Sun smiled, and they took a few steps back and sat there on the sand.

— ◒ —

Boone's funeral was silent.

They walked up the hill as a group, Hurley and Jack carrying his pale body through the sand. They had begun their graveyard up the beach, in a grassy clearing with a perfect view of the blue ocean that surrounded them. Everyone had a solemn look on their face as they gathered on all sides. People had picked wildflowers, and someone had made a cross-shaped gravestone and carved his name onto it. Boone Carlyle.

May he rest in peace.

He did look peaceful, or at least so from the only glance Clem had been able to take. Usually, at funerals, they made the person look less dead, and more asleep. But Boone still had dried blood on his forehead, his lips were colorless, and he was as white as a ghost. They had wrapped him in a tarp, so that they could cover his face when they buried him six feet in the ground.

Even Claire's baby was quiet, sleeping peacefully in her arms. The wind blew everyone's hair lightly and Clementine couldn't help her tears anymore, silently letting them fall down her face. Shannon, standing only a few feet away from Clem, looked emotionless. She did not look sad, or angry, and instead just stared at Boone's body as Jack covered his face.

Jack stood, looking over at Shannon.  His eyes were bloodshot and his lips were pale from his own blood loss— the blood he'd given to try and save Boone. "Shannon," he said. "Do you wanna... Do you wanna say something?"

There was a moment of quiet before she answered. "No," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

So instead, everyone stayed silent, looking down at Boone with sorrow and grief. Clementine wished Shannon had said something, but she understood. She might say a sentence or two if she didn't think she'd start bawling, and there were a few people here who she didn't want to see that.

But before the silence got too loud, Sayid's voice spoke up, standing out amongst the crowd. "I didn't know Boone very well," he announced. Every head turned to him. "And for that I am sorry. On our sixth day here, a woman named Joanna died. She drowned. And Boone was the first one into the water." Michael hugged his son close, and Claire looked down at her baby.  Charlie had his arm around her. "I didn't know him.  But I'll remember his courage... and I know he will be missed."  He looked at Shannon.

"It was my fault."

Again, the group's heads turned as one.  This time, they saw John Locke standing just outside the crowd. His white shirt was now red, covered in blood. He'd lied about what had happened to Boone, and now he was dead.  Clem couldn't help but feel a little resentment.

"We found a plane," he continued loudly, for all to head. "A Beechcraft, out in the jungle. It was... It was lodged in the canopy, so..." He began to stutter. "I-I would've gone up, but..." He gestured, pointing upward. "My leg was hurt, so he..." Locke squinted from the sunlight, trailing off.  Even Sawyer was glaring at him. "There was a radio inside, and he thought he could... His weight must have made the plane shift, and it fell, and... It happened because he was trying to help us. He was a hero."

There was a few seconds of appalled silence. Maybe Locke should have stayed gone.

"Where were you?" yelled Jack, stepping up. "Where were you?" He continued walking, long strides across the sand and through the crowd. Then running. "Where the hell were you, you son of a bitch? What did you do to him?" Jack tackled him to the ground.

"Wait, Jack! Stop!" Charlie yelled, as a few more rushed toward them to break it apart.

"What did you do?"

"Hey, wait! Wait, Jack!"

"Where were you? You just left him to die! You lied to me!"

"Jack. Jack!"

Sawyer and Charlie pulled him off of Locke as he continued to yell. "Where were you?"

"Jack, hey! It's okay. It's okay!"

"Where were you?"

Kate ran up, putting a hand on Jack's chest as Charlie and Sawyer held him back by the arms.

"Get off it!" Charlie continued yelling at him. "Jack!"

"Jack," said Kate, as he still struggled in Sawyer and Charlie's arms.

"Hey, hey!"

"Jack. Jack, what's the matter?" Kate continued, as Jack's breathing became heavy. He'd suddenly stopped struggling. "Are you o— Are you okay?"

Jack fell to the ground. "Oh, God!"

"Some water!" Sawyer shouted, as Kate and Charlie kneeled over him, rolling him over to get his face out of the sand.

"He's okay," Clem heard Charlie announce, as Sun ran over with a bottle of water. He was slowly picking his head up off the ground, breaths still heavy. Locke, too, was just getting up off the ground.

"Just breathe, Jack," Charlie encouraged. "You're okay. Breathe."

Clementine had never been to such an action-packed funeral.

— ◒ —

"I want you in and out. You understand?"

"It's always in and out, sir. I think we got it at this point."

"Very funny, kid." The man shook his head. "But I mean it. No lingering. Either of you."

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

Clementine was on a job with a partner today. She'd never worked with a partner for Sir before, but she'd only been working for him for a year now. Her partner, a woman who looked a little older than she was, had thick brows and a hardened face. She didn't snap at their employer, or make remarks like Clementine often did, and she hadn't even come close to making any expression other than glaring. Her voice was flat, and she had deep brown eyes and hair to match, tied back in a tight bun.

She drove them to the job. This was a relatively simple one, but they needed two— one to get to the safe from below, and one to fend off the multitudes of guards and officers that were bound to come. There was a code to crack, and according to Sir, her partner had a knack for that sort of thing. Mr. Salt and Pepper Hair had told them the money belonged to him, and they were just bringing back what was his.  Clementine didn't care for his explanations.  She just did it so that it was done.

It was a long ride out to the grand house where the safe was located.  Only one car sat in the driveway, expensive, with blacked-out windows. Someone high-profile lived here.  It didn't matter, though.  By the time Clem and her partner showed up, he would basically already be dead.

"Ready?" Clementine asked her.

The woman looked at her and nodded.  They got out of the car, grabbing their equipment from the backseat, and stormed into the driveway, then through the door.  There was a shout, and she heard a scramble.  When they rounded the corner to the very bright white living room, a man was standing there, phone in hand. He put it to his ear, and began speaking.

"Yes?  Hello— oh, thank God.  They're in my house, they have—"

But Clementine's partner raised her gun and shot him.  He fell to the ground— he was still alive, but with all the blood loss, he'd be dead eventually .  Clementine walked over and hung up the phone, but both of them knew emergency services had definitely heard the gunshot and would be able to trace the call sooner than later.

The two of them rushed downstairs, through the vast basement, and into the only unfinished part of it, hidden by a perfectly disguised bookshelf-door. Yes, disguised, but all too cliche. The safe was sitting inside of it, ready for the taking. Why this man didn't keep his money in a bank, Clementine didn't know.

"You stay outside. This might take me a while."

Clementine nodded, and stepped outside the room with the safe. As her partner began tinkering, she became a little... bored. Emergency services might take a few minutes. "So," she said, "what's your name?"

Her partner didn't answer.

"Oh, come on," she said. "We'll never see each other again after this. Humor me."

She sighed. "Diana," she said simply. "You?"

"Clementine," she said.

"Clementine," she repeated, as if it sounded silly.

"You have a problem with that?"

"No, no," she said, going back to work. "It's just an interesting name."

"Well, Diana is a princess's name."

"Alright, farm girl. Get back to work."

Clementine scoffed.

— ◒ —

The people began to slowly disperse as soon as some others started burying Boone, allowing him to finally rest six feet under the ground.  Shannon walked away the fastest, her hair blowing in the wind.  Clementine ran after her once she saw where she was headed, the wind offering friction against her, the sand piling in her shoes.  She didn't care. She had to say something.  Shannon was her friend.

"Shannon," she said, finally catching up to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. Shannon stopped, but did not turn around, so Clementine walked in front of her.  She was looking down.

Clementine exhaled.  She didn't know what to say, and whatever she wanted to get across couldn't be said in words.  So as the wind tossed their hair all around, she just threw her arms around Shannon, tight.  Neither of them made a single sound, but Clementine could feel Shannon's tears dripping onto her shoulder.  Clementine allowed herself to finally break down, too, letting the silent sobs overwhelm her.  She felt for Boone, yes, but most of all, she felt for her friend. She cared about Shannon.

They'd probably have never met if not for the crash. And if they had, they probably wouldn't have gotten along.  They were so wildly different, from different worlds, different lives.  This flight was the only thing they seemed to have in common.

And yet, it was enough.

She heard Shannon whisper. So low. Barely audible. "Thank you."

— ◒ —

There was a baby's cry from behind her, and Clementine turned to find Charlie, Claire's baby in his arms. He rocked the child as he walked, doing nothing to the sound of his constant cry. "Hey, Charlie," Clementine greeted. He looked over at her, brows raised. He hadn't seemed to notice she was there.

"Oh, hey, Clementine," he said, walking over to her. Clem stood up, coming out of her sleeping area.

"How's the baby?" she said, looking over the newborn. She couldn't help but smile, even with the cry of distress coming from his mouth.

"You tell me," he said. "I can't get him to stop. I've just been trying to give Claire a break, is all. She's barely slept."

"Well, I think that's a good idea."

"You know anything about babies?"

She scoffed. "Nope."

Charlie sighed. "Want to help me find someone who does?"

Clem shrugged. "Sure." She began walking with Charlie down the beach. "Hey, aren't you in a band? You tried singing, right?"

"That was the first thing I tried," Charlie said. "Little turnip-head isn't a big Driveshaft fan." He looked down at the baby.

"Driveshaft?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, looking back at Clem. "My band. I was lead bassist."

"Yeah," Clementine said. Their voices felt quiet over the sound of the cries. "I've heard of you guys. I had a friend who loved your single."

"Oh, yeah?" Charlie said, smiling big. "Well, when we get back, we're going to be popular," he said. "I mean, come on, bassist who dies in a plane crash and comes back to life? That's free publicity. I can get you into a show. Anywhere you like."

Clem smiled. "Thanks, Charlie."

They walked upon the raft, where Charlie got the idea of asking Michael, who had certainly spent time with at least one baby before. He was up on the raft with Jin and Walt, tying bamboo tightly to the surface of the boat.

"Hey, Michael," Charlie said, as he and Clem walked up on him and his son, "d'you know anything about babies? I can't get this little guy to be quiet."

Michael thought. "Walk with him.  He'll calm down."

"Yeah, I tried that," said Charlie.  He turned.  "Hey, Jin," he said loudly.  "Have you seen Sun?"

Clem and Michael shrugged to each other, then she turned back to Charlie. "Huh?" Jin said.

"Sun," he repeated. "I need some help with this baby," he said, looking down at the child.

Jin shook his head. "No."

"Okay," said Charlie with a smile.

Sawyer walked by, carrying a big, flat piece of scrap metal. "Hey, Chucky and Tiffany, y'all wanna keep that kid quiet? Baby Huey's like nails on a chalkboard."

He tossed the metal down, and as he did so, Charlie and Clem realized that he'd finally stopped crying. "Aw, there you go," Charlie said, cradling him a little closer. "You happy now?" he said to Sawyer.

As he finished his sentence, "turnip-head" began crying once again.

Sawyer sighed. "I was." He took a few steps over to them. Suddenly, the baby stopped making noise again. "If you're gonna play nursemaid, at least do the damn job."

Charlie and Clementine looked at each other. They seemed to have the same thing on their minds.

"Keep talking," Clementine said, looking down at the kid.

"Say something else," Charlie encouraged at the same time. He began to whine and cry again.

Sawyer looked at them with furrowed brows.

"Just say something. Say anything!" Charlie said.

"Okay, fine," he said cockily. "I liked that thing a lot better inside than I like it outside," he said, pointing accusatorially at the child.

The baby quieted, cooing.

Sawyer began to walk away, and Clementine and Charlie followed him. He looked behind himself at them with disgust. "What?" he said. Charlie and Clem just smiled at him, then down at the quiet baby. Sawyer kept walking, and they kept following, so he began to jog. 

"Sawyer," Clementine said, as he ran up toward the rest of their stores. "Sawyer, stop running," she said, catching up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. With the baby in his arms, Charlie lagged behind. Sawyer sighed again. "Come on," she said. "Help us out."

"No way. I've got a raft to build, remember?"

Clementine turned around.  "Hey, Michael?" she called.  Michael looked out at her from the raft.  "Can we steal Sawyer from you for a little while?"

"Be my guest," said Michael, a little happier than he probably wanted to let on.

Clem turned back to Sawyer, arms crossed and a satisfied smile on her face. Sawyer did not smile, and instead, just stared at the three of them.

"Oh, come on," said Charlie. "He likes you."

"Pleasure," he said sarcastically.

"Just this once," she said.

He looked down at the baby, beginning to whine again. "Fine."

As they gathered, it began to pour, so the four of them cooped themselves up into Sawyer's tent, where he put on his glasses and picked out the only baby-appropriate magazine he had and read, pausing every so often to see if he was done. Each time, he earned a 'keep going' from either Clementine or Charlie.  Charlie had offered that Charlotte hold the baby, but she had opted not to. 

Sawyer was halfway through reading all the articles in the magazine when the short rainstorm came to a stop.  It had been an hour, and the sun was now beginning to set, burying itself under the water and offering perfect light into the tent.

"...The low rumble breaks the crisp fall air as a flash of red streaks down the maple-dappled Vermont highway."  The baby cooed. "The 32-valve V8 engine purrs as the transmission clicks down a gear, and the vehicle unleashes all 400 horses and 350 pound feet of rear-wheel torque."

Someone walked up upon them to the open entrance of the tent.  It was a rather confused-looking Claire, walking in just as her baby began to whine again. "Keep going, keep going," Charlie encouraged.  Sawyer looked back down at the magazine.

"Charlie..." began Claire.

Charlie shushed her, then motioned her over.

"Beneath the hood, the 4.4-liter power plant features a fully integrated supercharger mated to a six-speed transmission with a manual sequential shift feature."  Sawyer looked over at Charlie. The baby let out a cry.

"Keep going."

Claire smiled at her baby, putting her hand on his head as Sawyer continued. "This smooth-riding sports car offers a bewitching blend of pace, comfort, and economy..."

— ◒ —

The job was done.

The police ended up getting there only a few minutes later, armed and ready. Fortunately, Diana was already finished with the safe by then. All they had to do was pack it up into their bags, so she assisted Clem in taking care of the first round of emergency services, and they were out of there before any reinforcements could arrive. Diana stepped on it, and they bolted out of that gorgeous development, and to the parking garage, where they would be switching their ride to something that wasn't just parked in the driveway.

"Sorry about the name comment," Diana said, as she ignored a stop sign and turned right, driving at least 30 over the speed limit on a country road. "You were good back there."

"Thanks," said Clementine. "You got skill too. Where'd you learn to crack big safes like that?"

Clementine held onto the car's grab handle as she rounded a curve a little too quickly for her liking. There was only one squad car on their tail— they'd gotten rid of the rest.

"I was a tinkerer," she said. "My father used to own a bank."

"So you are a princess," she said, smiling.

"Ha ha. Trust me, my parents didn't care about me."

"So you do this to what, get their attention? Push buttons?"

"You don't know me, farm girl," she said, going faster now. They turned onto another back road, nearly causing an accident behind them. Diana was quite the driver. "Don't try to read me."

"My parents didn't care about me either," she said. After one last turn, Diana pulled into the empty parking garage for a run-down office building nearby. She parked the car haphazardly, and they rushed into the one next to it. It was waiting there for them, open, and it was one of Sir's. By the time Clem closed the passenger door, the key was already in the ignition. She let out a breath as Diana calmly pulled out of the parking garage from the opposite way they'd come.

They'd lost the police a couple minutes back, so it would be a minute or so before they came upon the parking garage and their abandoned car. But by then, it wouldn't matter.

"I don't think we'd have the career we do if our parents gave a shit about us," said Diana.

Clem chuckled. "Yeah. Guess so."

"So, what's your cover?"

"Huh?"

"Sir told me I should get a cover job. I work at McDonald's occasionally. What do you do?"

"Oh," she said. "I'm a front desk for an accountant."

"An accountant," she said, glancing at Clem. "Sounds boring."

"It is. I live in a trailer to keep things low."

"Yeah?" Diana said. "I have a studio apartment," she said. "What do you do in the time between jobs?"

Clementine shrugged. "A lot."

"Really?" said Diana. "I go to the movies. It gets boring, though."

"You name it, I done it," said Clementine, as they turned onto their freeway entrance. "I just like to do."

"What, like crazy stuff? You some kind of dare devil?"

"You could call it that," she said. "I've done cliff diving, skydiving, bungee jumping, paragliding, all sorts of insanity."

"You pulling my leg?"

"No," Clem said. "Come with me sometime."

She scoffed. "No thanks," she said. "I'll stick to the movie theater."

"It just takes my mind off all this," she said. "I need the adrenaline."

"Cigarettes tend to do the trick for me."

Clem chuckled. "We'll have to have a smoke sometime then."

"Yeah?" she said. "I don't think he would like that. Us being associated with each other."

"Well, he can't control our personal lives."

Diana pulled into Sir's development, full of big, grand houses. Old money. They met him at his place for most jobs. He stored everything they needed in his house— changes of clothes, cars, weapons, wigs, masks. Unless he came and met them at another location, they always left from here. Clementine wasn't surprised the police hadn't put him away by now— she was pretty sure he was paying them off.

"What do you think's his net worth?" Clem asked, looking around at all the giant houses. She could only dream.

"My God," she said. "Millions. Half a billion, maybe."

"500 million dollars?" said Clem, brows raised.

"I don't know how many people he's got working for him," she said. "But he's got quite a web. He can afford this house, all the guns, and to pay all those people. He's got to be crazy rich."

After parking in his large garage, they entered the house, where he was waiting for them. They handed over the bag, then went to change their clothes and drop the weapons back off in his basement armory. After they were dressed, he gave them each their cut— 30,000 dollars, cash.

Diana turned to go, giving a nod to Clementine. She said her farewell to Mr. Salt and Pepper H air and walked outside. The taxi he'd called her was already pulling up, and she was about to step inside when she saw Diana pulling her car out of the driveway. She opened the window. "What are you doing?" she called, a little confused. "You don't have a car?"

Clem shrugged. "I don't drive."

"Let me give you a ride," she said. "You don't have to pay."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

She told the taxi driver to go, and thanks anyway, then opened the passenger door of Diana's very used sedan and took a seat inside. She kept it quite clean, even if the outside had a few chips and dents. The radio was playing quietly.

"Where do you live?" She pulled out of the driveway.

"In the trailer park off of 7th," she said. "Down in Torrence."

"You live in Torrence?" she said.

"Yeah," Clem said. "You too?"

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "You got yourself a neighbor, farm girl."

"Alright, Diana." She rolled her eyes. "I've had enough of that."

— ◒ —

Shannon had stolen the guns.

While Jack was sleeping, she'd taken the key off his neck and unlocked the case, and during the rainstorm, snuck up on Locke, threatening to shoot him for lying, for killing her brother. She was upset, and angry, and needed someone to blame, and Clementine most certainly knew where she was coming from. She understood why she did it.

She had shot at Locke, but thanks to Sayid, it was only a graze, which Jack was currently treating him for up at the caves. It was nighttime now, and Shannon was sitting by their large signal fire. When Clem offered to sit, she asked her to leave her alone, so she respected Shannon's wishes, and instead took a seat next to Sayid and Kate. Sayid stared at her from across the fire, catching glimpses every so often as the flames danced.

"She just needs time," Kate said. "She's been through a lot."

"Time won't make a difference," said Sayid solemnly. "Perhaps I made a mistake."

"You couldn't let her kill Locke," said Kate, as Sayid continued to stare at the fire. "You had no choice."

Sayid breathed. "There's always a choice."

He stood up and left them, walking away from the signal fire. Clementine didn't see where he went.

"You think they'll be okay?" Kate asked. "Her and Sayid?"

"I hope so."

Chapter Text

Even though they weren't all able to get a ride, most of the survivors of Oceanic flight 815 seemed to be pitching in on the raft.  Whether it was cutting bamboo, carrying scrap metal, collecting fruit, or —in Sayid's case—making a communication device, there was something for everyone to do. Clementine decided she'd help carry bamboo bundles to their build site today, but as she got back from the groves beside Jack, there seemed to be a small commotion going on.

"Sure, you can absolutely wait a few weeks before you launch. I was just assuming you didn't want to die."

Arzt was one of the survivors. Clem didn't know his first name, but he'd been a high school science teacher, and often had protests to many of the adventures they'd gone out to do, or simply knew something that apparently the rest of the survivors did not. He wore a tattered polo shirt and khaki pants, and was holding a singular stick of bamboo beside him.  He was older, maybe 50-something, and had light brown hair with grays littered through it. 

Jack stepped up onto the raft and looked at him, as did everyone else who was around. "So, uh," began Michael, putting a hand on Walt's head, "when's the next time we can launch?"

Arzt looked out at the water. "Three... maybe four months."

"Come on!" Sawyer said. "Even a weatherman on TV don't know what's gonna happen.  Why are we listening to Arzt?" He gestured to the man standing on the sand below.

"Because I'm a doctor, and you're a hillbilly," he told him.

"You're a damn high school science teacher," said Sawyer, taking a step forward.

"Hey, Sawyer, just let the man talk," said Jack calmly, leaning on the mast.

"It's been raining every afternoon," continued Arzt, tightening a plastic bag to the thin stick of bamboo he was holding. "That means that we are on the cusp of monsoon season. Monsoon season is bad. Now," he said, putting up his stick and bag, which Clem soon realized was a makeshift flag. "The trade winds are blowing north right now," he said, watching his bag indeed blow north. "Shipping lanes are north. So north is exactly where you wanna be."

"So what's that mean?" Michael asked. Clementine was a little confused, too.

Arzt put the flag down. "It means, when monsoon season hits, the trade winds are gonna shift to the south." He gestured toward the water. "The raft—" He pointed at it— "goes with the wind. Can anyone tell me what is the only piece of land that's south of us?"

They were already in the South Pacific. They'd taken off from Australia and crashed when they turned around and headed for Fiji. "Antarctica," answered Jack.

"That's right, Jack. Antarctica."

"So when do we have to leave?" Michael asked.

Arzt glanced at the water, then shrugged. "Yesterday."

Everyone stared at him. "You need to get this thing out of here and on the water as soon as possible," he continued. "Ideally, last week. Your best bet? Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Sawyer repeated. "You really think we're gonna get this thing done by tomorrow?"

"I don't know," shrugged Arzt. "But I do know you're gonna have to."

— ◒ —

Tomorrow. Michael really believed Arzt, and he really was determined to get it done by the morning. They'd be setting off tomorrow. Their only hope. Their last hope.

But Clementine felt like she was losing hope.

She felt so stupid. Why should she ever want Sawyer to stay, and why should she ever want to stay here, in this horrible place, where the mystery killers lived, where some rabid monster roamed the jungle, where there were phantom sicknesses and tents to sleep in? Why should she stay here, in the middle of the ocean, on a singular island with a low chance of survival? The place where people had died, and would most definitely continue to do so?

But there was nothing waiting for her out there. And she knew that. No friends, no boyfriend, and definitely no Sawyer.

He'd probably never even want to see her again.

Would she go running back to Bose? Would her dad come and find her again? Would she see Diana? Would she ever run into Harry? Every single one of those possibilities itched at her and occupied her mind. She didn't want anyone from her past life to be apart of her anymore. She never wanted to see any of them ever again.

But Sawyer was a different story.

At the thought of the cowboy, she saw him and Kate a little down the beach. He had her arm in his grasp, but let go, and as he walked away, Kate called out and said something else to him. Clementine didn't hear, but neither of them looked happy.

"What was that about?" she asked warily, joining Sawyer in his stare at Kate as she walked away.

"She's out for my spot," he said. "She wants off the island."

"Your spot?" Clem said. "On the raft?"

"Yeah." He turned around to walk away. "She ain't gettin' it."

"Why now? Why all of the sudden?"

"Hell if I know," said Sawyer, still ticked off.

Clementine decided, reluctantly, to leave him be.

Instead, she walked toward the raft, where they were making quick progress. The mast was almost finished and the deck was nearly covered with bamboo. The knots had to be tight, and balanced perfectly atop the metal pieces they'd taken from the plane. Michael and Walt were sitting on the side as Jin continued to work. Michael hopped off the raft to greet Clementine, but as he did so, he keeled over, holding his stomach. He stumbled to the sand, catching himself with his hands. "Dad!" Walt said, standing.

He grunted, and Clementine ran through the sand over to them. "Dad!" Walt said again.

Michael looked at his son. "Get Jack," he said weakly.

Walt looked at Clementine, who now had a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Go," she said. "I'll stay here."

Walt got up and started running.

— ◒ —

Walt came out of the jungle followed by Kate, Jack, Locke, and Sayid, who all gathered around.  Clementine had helped Michael to lay against a tree, grunting and groaning.  He was having horrible pains in his sides and stomach, and nausea, too. "What did you eat today?" Jack asked him, as Michael turned and groaned.

"Fruit, fish," he replied.

"Drinking enough water?"

"Two, three bottles." He groaned again.

"Where you getting that water from?"

"The caves, like everybody else."

"Alright, listen Michael," Jack said calmly. He put a wet piece of towel underneath his chin to calm his nausea. "You just take it easy. Just stay in the shade, try not to move too much, okay?" Jack stood, and Michael tried to get up, but Jack put his hands on his chest.

"We have to launch that raft tomorrow.  We have to."

"I know. I know. I need you to lay back."

Michael took a breath, and set his head down. Kate took off her backpack and sat next to Michael, who, once again, tried to sit up.  Walt walked over, but Jin held him back.

"Lay down," Kate said, holding Michael's head. Michael groaned again. "Just lay down, okay?"

Clementine saw she wasn't needed anymore, and walked down the beach to find something else to do. She walked past Claire and Charlie, sitting in the shade of a tree while she cut his hair and he played his guitar. She smiled, then turned to see Hurley, carrying a bundle of bamboo for the raft. "Hey," she said, walking up to him. "Need some help?"

He looked over at her, stopping his walk. "Yeah, sure," he said, separating the large bunch of bamboo he was holding into two.

"They're gonna need the help," Clementine began, picking up the second bundle, holding it tight. "Michael's sick."

"What?" said Hurley. "What happened?"

"Dunno," she said. "But it was so sudden. There's some weird stuff going on with that raft."

"Like what?" he asked, as they began walking toward it together.

"Well, the first one burns, and no one knows who did it. And of course people want to get on," she said. "Not me, but a few people. Kate especially."

"Kate? Why?"

"I've got no idea," she said. "But Sawyer told me she's out for his spot."

"So, what?" Hurley said. "You think someone... did this to him?"

Clementine looked at the sand. "I never thought about that." She looked back at Hurley. "You're right. It's too convenient."

They dropped the bundles of bamboo with the rest of the stores and dusted off their hands. Jack was up by the tree nearby, talking to Michael again, and Locke was walking down toward the two of them. Clem didn't really want to talk to him right now, so she bid Hurley goodbye. He thanked her, and she walked away.

It was all too easy. Surely, Michael wasn't just sick. Clem wasn't a doctor, but she knew you didn't feel fine one moment and keeling over the ground the next. It wasn't food poisoning, or heatstroke (it was windy today) and he'd feel a real infection coming on slowly. Something in his food, maybe, or his water. Someone put it there.

She didn't put it past Sawyer. Maybe he'd done it to frame Kate, or maybe Kate had done it to frame him, vying for his spot. Maybe someone else had some secret vendetta against Michael they didn't know about. Whatever it was, someone had done this, and if Clem had already figured it out, then Jack had, too.

On her walk, she happened upon Shannon, walking along the shore with her feet in the water. Clementine decided to join her, quietly. They simply walked together for a few minutes before Shannon finally spoke up. "I don't want your pity," she said to her.

"Good," said Clementine. "I'm not here to give you any."

Shannon finally turned to her. She had that look on her face, a sort of blank look, the same one she'd had at Boone's funeral. Her brows were slightly furrowed and her lips were parted, but Charlotte could see in her eyes the sadness she held.

"You still want to kill him?" Clem asked.

Shannon looked down. "I know it's wrong," she said. "I don't care. He killed my brother. He killed Boone." Her voice broke.

"I get it," Clem told her. "I promise you, I do. Locke lied. I'm not quite his best friend, either. But he didn't kill Boone, Shannon. It was an accident."

Shannon shook her head. "I don't care."

"Finding someone to blame isn't going to make things any easier. There's no going back from killing somebody, Shan."

"God," she said breathily, looking up at the sky. She then turned to Clem. "Everyone's told me that. Sayid, Locke, even Kate, now you. I'm beginning to think half the people on this damn island are murderers."

Clementine bit her lip. "You don't know the half of it."

Shannon tilted her head. "You've really killed someone?"

Charlotte paused before answering. "Yeah."

Shannon exhaled, looking back down at her feet. "Do I want to know?"

"No. But what I can tell you? It didn't feel good. Ever. And I regret it all the time." She put a hand on Shannon's shoulder. "I know what you're feeling, Shannon. Trust me. Don't try again, okay? I don't think Boone would want it."

Shannon closed her eyes, looking down.

"I'm not telling you this cause I care about what happens to Locke," she said. "I couldn't care less whether he lives or dies, alright? I'm telling you 'cause I care about you. Maybe anyone else who talked to you wants Locke to live. If he gets stuck by a polar bear, so what. But you can't kill him."

Shannon breathed. "Okay," she whispered.

"Okay," Clementine said, smiling weakly.

As their conversation quieted, they heard a clamor up the beach, and people were beginning to gather near the raft. They walked up, finding Sawyer gripping Kate's arm.

"Tell him," Sawyer commanded her, as others from across the beach began to gather. He shoved Kate toward Michael, and she simply shook her head.

Sawyer grabbed her backpack off of her, and she reacted quickly, yelling, "Give that back!" But his grip was no match for her.

"Leave her alone!" said Michael, standing. He seemed to be feeling a little better.

"Give that back!" Kate dove toward the bag, but Sawyer yanked it away just in time. He dumped its contents out onto the sand.

Kate scrambled to pick something up, but Sawyer was quicker than her. "Look!" Sawyer said, showing the small book off to everyone around— Claire, Charlie, Locke, Michael, Shannon and Clem, some others. "Look at this."

He opened it. It was a passport.

"Sawyer, please," said Kate.

He scoffed at her. "Y'all remember Joanna, don'tcha? Huh?" He handed the passport to Michael as Clem and Shannon, on the outskirts of the crowd, walked up a little further. "The woman who drowned?" Michael examined it. The photo was blurred, destroyed, but everything else seemed intact. "Now, what's Kate doing with poor Joanna's ID? Could it be she'd do just about anything to get on that raft, so she could get herself rescued?" Sawyer turned to her. "Run off with a new identity before half the reporters in the world descend on this damn island? She might even poison the captain himself."

"Shut up!" Kate snapped.

"She don't care about nothing or nobody but herself," Sawyer said, glaring. "You wanna tell us why you need to run so bad?" His voice was lower now. "You wanna tell us the truth?"

Half the camp had gathered now. Everyone waited. "Yes," she said finally. "I was on the plane... with the Marshal." She looked only at Michael. "Yes, I was wanted, and caught, and being transported back." Her voice was breaking. "No matter what I say about what happened, about what I supposedly—" she looked right at Sawyer— "did... I'm going to jail."

She looked back at Michael. "But I didn't poison you." She took a step toward him, but he stepped back, staring at her with suspicion and maybe a little disgust.

Kate's face seemed to plead with him, but he just looked at Sawyer. "Here," he said, handing him the passport. People began to disperse. Shannon and Clementine walked away, as did Charlie and Claire, cradling her baby close. Sawyer tossed the passport on the ground with the rest of Kate's things and left her, stomping away.

Kate was the fugitive.

It all made sense— she'd run into the marshal on the plane, and the top of the head she'd seen matched Kate's hair color. It was the reason she knew what was in the Halliburton case, the one that held all the guns. It belonged to the marshal, and she'd been his prisoner. Jack must have known she was the fugitive, because he had full control of that case, key tied around his neck 24/7. After she and Sawyer discovered it during their swim, it wasn't that hard to figure out. Clem supposed she'd just never thought of it— she was convinced that the criminal was dead.

— ◒ —

It was dark now, the only thing lighting their camp being the scattered fires and the crescent moon. Shannon had gone to sleep early. Clementine thought about talking to Sawyer. Would they be leaving tomorrow? Would Michael be ready by then?  She didn't know, but she needed to find out sooner rather than later.  Sawyer was leaving, and as she learned, there was no stopping him.

After a few minutes of overthinking, she decided to go over there and talk to him.  He had a small fire going in front of his tent, and he was sitting by it, poking it with a stick and provoking the flames every time. Upon seeing Clementine, he sighed, and threw the twig into the fire. "I really don't want to hear it right now, Clementine," he said.

She took a seat in front of him on the other side of the fire. "That's too bad," she said. "I really don't think I'll ever understand," she began, shaking her head disappointedly. "Why do you want to get off this rock so bad? That wasn't your secret to tell, Sawyer. It was hers."

"Yeah, well," he said, "she said she was going to take my spot. I couldn't let that happen."

"That doesn't mean you can go around telling everyone her problems."

"She's a wanted fugitive and didn't think to tell nobody?" he said, tilting his head.

"She could've said something on her own time."

"She wasn't gonna," he said.  He looked up at her from the fire. "Did you know?"

Clem shook her head. "No," she said. "But that wasn't the right way for me to find out."

"Well, it was going to happen sooner or later," he said, shrugging. "I talked to her."

"Yeah?" said Clem, brows raised.  "Did you say sorry?"

He scoffed. "Nope."

"Right.  So you just went over there to rub it in."

"Sure," he said.

Clem exhaled. "You never answered my first question."

"And what's that?"

She looked right into his eyes. "Why do you want to get out of here so bad? I know there's nothing waiting out there for you."

He sighed. "Well, there's nothing waiting for me here either."

Clementine and him just stared at each other for a moment.  She hoped he couldn't see the hopelessness in her eyes.

"Okay," she said, her voice a whisper. She began standing. "Well, good luck, Sawyer."

"Yeah," he said, looking up at her.

She began walking away, but after a few steps, she heard him call out to her. "Hey," he said, loudly.  She turned around.

"We leave tomorrow," he continued. "I'm leaving the cigarettes. There's only one box, but it's all yours."

"Thanks," she said, still not smiling. "Good night."

"Night."

She walked away into the dark, but she could feel his eyes on her until she was hidden from sight. Sawyer was leaving, and there was no stopping him.

Chapter Text

Clementine was already awake, sitting in her tent and drawing circles in the sand when she heard Michael yell, "Hey, hey! Stop!" A couple people walked past her tent, including Charlie, and went up the beach toward their camp's tree cover. Slowly and suspiciously, Clementine stood up, then walked toward the commotion.

A disheveled woman was walking through the beach. Michael was holding his hand out, keeping his son behind him, and Sawyer had a bug stick in his hands. The woman was dirtied, and holding a large shotgun beside her. She wore a tattered tank top and cargo pants and had messy brown hair that fell well past her shoulders. She was older, and had determined, yet tired eyes.

"Slow..." Michael said. "Slow down."

More people gathered, jogging up and stopping short at the sight of her. "Who is that?" Michael asked.

"Gotta be the French chick," Sawyer said. Clementine stayed beside him.

"Calm down everyone," Sayid called above the quiet chatter. "It's alright."

Claire's baby had woken up, and was crying. She rocked it, and the French woman was staring right at Claire and her child.

"Danielle?" Sayid said, walking up to her warily. "Danielle?"

Slowly, she turned around the face him. "What are you doing here?" he asked calmly.

"The others are coming."

The chatter rose again.

The others. The other people on the island? Here? Why? And for what? People created a circle around her, asking questions, demanding answers, speaking to each other, to Sayid, holding their friends close, their children closer. The others. The Others? Who were they? What did they want? When were they coming? How many of them? God, it was too much. For the first time, Clementine wanted on that raft.

"Our ship went aground on this island 16 years ago," began the French woman, Danielle Rousseau, above the noise. The people quieted. "There were six of us. My team. Six. By that time, I was already seven months pregnant. I delivered the infant myself." Claire cradled her baby's head closer to her shoulder. "The baby and I were together for only one week... when I saw black smoke. A pillar of black smoke, five kilometers inland. That night, they came." Her eyes widened. "They came, and took her. Alex. They took my baby." Her voice was breathy, speaking into the wind, and yet, they could all hear it. "And now they're coming again." She looked around at them all. "They're coming for all of you."

"Who's coming?" asked Jack.

"The Others," she said to him. She looked back at the crowd. "You have only three choices." A pause. "Run. Hide. Or die."

Great.

— ◒ —

"She's insane. You and I both know she's insane. I mean, did you even look at her?"

"You can't make that stuff up, Sawyer."

He scoffed. "You definitely can. Come on. Black smoke and baby stealers? Sounds like a 70s slasher to me."

"Doesn't matter to you," Clementine told him. "You're leaving, remember?"

"Sure, but it'd be nice if you were all alive when we sent rescue for ya," he said with a shrug. "I just think she's making a panic about something that ain't there." He slung his bag over his shoulder, having packed the last of his necessities.

"I definitely think she's one sandwich short of a picnic, but that doesn't mean I don't believe her. I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"I've learned sometimes safe is sorry."

"Hey," said a third voice, interrupting their conversation. They turned to find Jack at the entrance of Sawyer's tent. "I'm gathering everyone. We need your help." He motioned them over, and they followed him.

"What's goin' on?" Sawyer asked.

"We need all hands on deck," he said, walking down the beach. There were a few people who had already been with him, waiting for him to grab Clem and Sawyer. "If the raft is going to be finished today, we need everyone. Michael's working on the rudder, but he needs to build the ramp to get it down to the water now if we want it to still be daylight."

"Alright," said Clementine. "Tell us what to do."

He picked up a few others, then gave their group directions to position palm tree and other wood logs on a path down to the water, evenly spaced so that the boat could roll over them smoothly right down to the water.

Every single person Clementine had come to know over the past 40 days was here, working, and as the last piece of the ramp was laid, people began to chatter with excitement. Michael had finished the rudder, and after a couple long hours of work, they were finally ready to launch their raft. Their only hope.

The first step would be using all forty of them to pick it up and get it onto the ramp they created. A few of their strongest, including Hurley and Sawyer, were using thinner logs as a sort of lever to pick the bamboo boat up. Some others were holding ropes and would be pulling it down toward the water.

"You need to get 'em in there tight, and you need leverage to get 'em on the rails," Michael explained loudly. "Good," he said, looking over at the few of them with the levers. "That's good. Just get it under there, okay? Okay."

He took a few steps back and went to the place where he would be lifting from. "So listen, on my count, I'll do 'one, two, three, lift,' and then push, okay? Got it?" A few people nodded and muttered affirmations. "Okay, come on," he said. "Once we get it down to the water line, we'll drop it and load it up. Alright. Ready?"

A few more mutters of "yes" and "ready."

"One!"

Clementine planted her feet into the ground and readied to lift.

"Two!"

Sawyer glanced at her, as if to ask, ready? She nodded in reply.

"Three! Lift!"

God, was it heavy. It was a giant boat, but Clementine had been thinking with this many people it wouldn't be so bad. The bamboo was hollow and there wasn't a lot of metal on it, yet still, she was really using her whole body. People groaned and the boat creaked, being held up by so many hands.

"Push!" Michael yelled. So they did. The people holding the ropes began pulling towards the water. Everyone was not only using their strength, but their hope. No one was coming to save them. But every single one was determined to save themselves. Minus one, maybe.

"Push! Come on, guys. Push! Push!"

The boat was actually moving. Slowly but surely, it inched toward the water line. "Use your levers. Use the levers." As they got further down the ramp and the incline in the sand increased, it became a little easier to push the boat down towards the ocean. Once it was completely on the rails, there was a moment of rest.

But they weren't done yet— there was still some distance to push before the boat could actually get to the water. "Alright, good. One, two, three, lift!" Once again, they lifted on command. "And keep it straight!"

As they moved it down, her feet seemed to be moving quicker as the incline in the sand suddenly became much steeper. Jin called out something in Korean, people began to shout, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" There was a sudden stop, and something made a crash. A piece of the raft had cracked and come off.

"Aw, no, come on!" Michael yelled, leaving his post and walking toward the sound. "I can't believe this," he said, walking past Clementine and Sawyer, staring right at the latter. "Can't believe it."

"What're you lookin' at me for? It's not my fault!" Sawyer said.

"You missed the lever!" Michael shouted.

"Yeah, cause you couldn't keep the raft goin' straight?"

"I couldn't keep it straight? Everybody's doing something—"

"Dad! Look," said Walt, standing up from his spot on the sidelines and pointing up toward the tree line. They all followed Walt's upward gaze, leaving their posts at the raft and finding a pillar of dark gray smoke rising up and over the trees and the mountains, over the clouds and into the blue sky. It polluted the view and continued to rise, continued to burn, miles and miles away across the horizon.

The Others are coming.

— ◒ —

"The first plane to LA you have. Please. I don't care how much it is."

The woman at the desk typed something into the computer in front of her.  "I have someone who's just canceled their flight," she said.  "Oceanic 815. But you'll have to go to the Oceanic Airlines desk downstairs to get the ticket."

"Seriously?" Clementine said. "You can't just give it to me here?" She already had her credit card out of her wallet. "I need to leave."

"Sorry, Miss.  The tickets have to be bought downstairs."

"How long til it leaves?"

She typed something else. "45 minutes."

"God," she muttered. "Okay. Thanks."

She was getting on that plane.  She pushed through people on the escalator, down, down, and got to the end of a line of people, where a man with close-cut brown hair was yelling something at that poor desk lady.  Clementine tapped her feet and bit her fingernails, waiting. She still had to go through security, and she hadn't even bought her damn tickets. She had to get out of Australia. She never wanted to come back.

Would Harry come looking for her? Would he respect the wishes she'd spoken about in that cowardly note? God, she couldn't even wait until morning to leave.  She could have been on a later flight, taken her time, talked with Harry.

But he loved her. And that just wasn't fair to him. No one should ever have to love her.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Clementine shook herself out of the trance. "Sorry," she said, smiling fakely. "Zoned out."

"It's no problem. What can I do for you?"

"I need a ticket for flight 815," she said.

"Eight-fifteen leaves in 30 minutes," said the woman.

"I know."

"Have you been through security yet?" she asked, typing on her computer.

"No. I have to go back up there. It's just the one bag. Can you check it here?"

"Yes, but—"

"Good.  Please, miss. I'm sure you're having quite a day, what with that man yelling at you and that Korean couple that was in front of me. But all I want is to get the ticket. I want to get out of Australia."

The woman nodded. "That, I can help you with."

"Thank you," said Clementine, sighing with relief.

— ◒ —

Stress was high. Hope was diminishing. The raft needed an urgent repair, and then they'd once again have to lug it toward the water.  They needed somewhere to go. Somewhere to hide. Somewhere to run. How do you hide 40 people in a jungle with a monster on the loose and a native people out for blood?

"Look, I know you're all scared," Jack was telling them, having gathered the camp to listen to their mysterious plan. "And I know that everybody has a lot of questions. All I can tell you right now is that we do have a plan. We've gotta go into the jungle to get some supplies. We'll be back in a few hours." Supplies? "In the meantime, do everything you can to help Michael get that raft on the water. And after that—" he pointed into the jungle— "go to the caves. "We'll be back as soon as we can. I promise." 

He walked away, and the circle dispersed.

Clem turned to Shannon. "Do you have any idea what the hell's going on?"

Shannon shook her head. "Nope. Honestly, I don't care enough to find out. I'm gonna go sit by the raft or something."

"Okay," she said. "I think I'll ask around."

Shannon nodded, and left. Hurley was standing behind Clementine, about to walk away, when she called his name. "Hey, Hurley," she said. "You know anything about all this?"

He bit the inside of his cheek. "I mean, yeah.  I don't know if it's something I'm supposed to be sharing, though."

"What? Why?"

He shrugged. "It's..."

"What are they going into the jungle to get, Hurley?"

He sighed, then started walking. Clementine followed him, but he didn't seem to be trying to escape her.  Just to get moving a little. "It's dynamite," he said, looking down at the sand. "I don't even know. They showed me this... hatch. Jack thinks he can hid everyone inside, but they can't open it. They need to blow it open."

Clementine furrowed her brows, her mouth parted. "A hatch?"

Hurley nodded.

"Where?"

"Uh, little less than a mile from the caves," he said. "It looks real old. No handle on the outside."

"And they don't know what's inside?"

"Nope."

"When did they find it?"

Hurley shrugged.

"Did they tell you not to tell anyone?"

"They told me no one else knows."

"Who?  Who's they?"

"Locke, Jack, Sayid... that's it."

"And the dynamite... out in the jungle? Where did that come from?"

"The French chick knows where it is," he said. "She booby trapped her shelter with it. Some place called the Black Rock."

"You're sure?"

"I know I sound crazy," he said.

"I don't think you're crazy," she said. "I think I might be going crazy, though."

Hurley chuckled weakly. "Yeah."

"Thanks, Hurley."

"Hey, try not to spread it like wildfire, kay? I'm probably already in trouble."

She nodded, then smiled at him.

— ◒ —

Charlie had come by with a glass bottle, a sort of funny way for him to hold notes he'd gathered from most of the survivors so that they could be given to their families back home.  It would go on the raft, and they'd take it back with them when they got rescued. He'd given her a slip of paper and a pen and left her to it.  Everyone was standing around the raft, on which Michael and Jin were adding the final touches. The people setting off to the Black Rock included Jack, Hurley, Kate, Locke, Rousseau, and Arzt, who was apparently the only one who knew how to handle whatever explosives they were picking up.

Clementine thought. There was surely people she could write to— Harry, Diana, Nathaniel Bose, maybe her father. But she wanted to leave that all behind her. She had nothing left to say to any of them, no more explanations to give. Even though some people had opted out of the messages in a bottle, Clem wanted to write something. So she put the pen to the paper.

When she was finally finished, she stood up and went to find Charlie, and handed the pen and the note to him. "Don't read it," she said.  He nodded, and slipped it into the green glass bottle.

"So, who'd you write to?" he said, capping it. "Mom? Dad?"

She chuckled. "Who'd you write to, Charlie?"

"My brother," he said.

"That's nice."

"You never answered my question."

"I wrote to a friend of mine."

"The one you said likes Driveshaft? I could sign it." He was smiling.

Clementine laughed again. "No," she said. "Another friend."

Someone else called Charlie over, and he gave her a smiling goodbye, then walked away from the conversation.

After another hour and a short rain shower, the raft was finally finished. The mast had been repaired, Sayid's radar contraption had been set up, and they were packed with food and water and ready to go, loading the last of the supplies onto the boat.  People gathered, saying their goodbyes to its passengers. Clem shook Jin's hand, and gave him a respectful smile and nod, and gave Michael and Walt hugs goodbye.

"You listen to your dad, alright?"

He smiled. "Okay."

"Hey, where's Vincent?" Surely the dog wasn't coming on the raft, right?

"Oh," he said. "I gave him to Shannon.  I thought he might give her some company, especially after Boone died."

She smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "That's really nice of you, Walt. You're a good kid. Best of luck, okay?"

"Thanks, Clementine."

There was only one person left to bid farewell.

She looked around for a moment, finally spotting his blond hair across the crowd of survivors.  He placed the bottle of messages into a case and pushed it onto the deck of the raft, then turned back, looking for something— someone.  Finally, his piercing eyes met Clementine's and she began taking steps toward him, not leaving his gaze.

When they finally met, they just stared at each other for a moment. Clementine didn't know what to say, or how to say it, or if she should even say anything at all. Perhaps leaving it all unsaid was better.  She didn't want him to go, and she was afraid that fact might slip out if she opened her mouth.

It was about to become awkward, so she spoke up. "Sawyer, if you die..." she began shaking her head, "I'm gonna kill you. Alright?"

He chuckled. She'd miss that annoying smile of his. "Can't die," he said. "You still owe me, remember?"

"You're not gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope."

She sighed. They were both smiling now. "I guess this is goodbye, huh?" she said, inching closer to him.

He looked into her eyes.  The blue was a sea of emotion, thrashing waves that she couldn't quite decode the meaning of. "Guess so."

Naturally, she threw her arms around him, hands just above the square of his back. He, too, wrapped his arms around her, letting them rest warmly on her waist. Clem wanted more, but it was a quick, friendly hug. She let go when he did— or maybe it was the other way around. Clem didn't remember.

"Good luck," she said to him. He smiled and nodded to her, and began to turn around, find another someone he needed to say goodbye to.

Every atom in Clementine Roberts's body wanted her to reach out and grab his hand, and tell him, "Don't go," or "Take me with you," or "I need you." Her mind told her to hold him close, hug him for just a few seconds more, or maybe kiss him, just to feel what his lips felt like on hers one more time. And her soul wanted her to give in— in fact, it encouraged it.

"Sawyer," she called out. He'd only taken a few steps away, so he turned around, brows raised. He waited for her to speak again.

The words seemed to escape her. For a few seconds, she said nothing, and just stood there, taking in everything about him, his shoulder-length blond hair, his blue eyes, the brown stubble that littered his strong jaw. There was his arms, his build hiding under the rolled sleeves of his flannel, and his hands, splintered and scratched from hours of work with the axe.

Don't go.

"Bring me back a souvenir," she said finally. Nothing else.

He grinned. "Will do, Miss Sunshine."

With that, he left.

Once the goodbyes were over, the group got back into position from this morning and pushed the raft along the ramp (more careful this time). Once it was in the water, Michael helped Sawyer and Jin up onto the raft, and they were quickly pushed into the water. After a firm shove, Clementine stumbled backward, watching the boat drift out into the ocean quicker than she would have liked.

People cheered and celebrated, waving to the raft's passengers happily as they drifted further into the water. They were clapping and jumping for joy. Even Shannon was smiling. For once, there was true, real hope. They'd actually succeeded in something.

But Clementine just stood there. She was only looking at him.

Vincent barked, and ran off into the water, swimming after Walt on board the raft. "Stay, Vincent!" Walt called back to his dog. He barked again, paddling over the waves. "Go back, Vincent! Vincent, go back!" He made a shooing motion with his hand. The dog turned back and swam to the beach, and Shannon walked up to meet him.

In the distance, she watched Sawyer pulled up the sail, then happily conversed with Michael. After, he turned around and looked at the beach, at the happy people along the shore, all beaming at their creation. He'd tied his hair back and out of his face, and across the blue water, she spotted him staring, clear as day.

He was only looking at her.

Chapter Text

The survivors were making their way to the caves now.

Clementine didn't know what was going to happen. If the Others were coming, it was only a matter of time before they found them. She didn't know if she would die, or maybe something worse, if any of them would be taken, like Claire, or hurt or killed or... she couldn't think about it anymore. She had to stop herself.

Packing her few belongings didn't exactly take her mind off things. But she remembered, then, that Sawyer had left her the cigarettes— yes, that was exactly what she needed. No bridges to bungee jump from or planes to skydive out of, so the nicotine would have to do.

This was the last of them. There were two cigarettes missing, courtesy of Sawyer, but the remaining 18 would last her long enough. She went into Sawyer's tent and took out the pack along with a book of matches, then sat on the sand and put the cigarette in her mouth, lighting it.  The moment the embers inside began to burn, she felt a little bit better, and that feeling only increased after the first puff.  With the cigarette now in her hand, she walked out of the tent and down the beach, spotting Charlie gathering some of his things, including his guitar.

For the first week or so on the island, Charlie's guitar had been lost. But on an adventure with Locke, they'd spotted it completely unscathed in its case, and brought it down. He didn't play too often, as there was many other responsibilities to worry about, but it was nice when he did.

"Hey, Charlie," she said with a smile.

"Hi," he said quickly, continuing to pack.  He seemed a bit on edge, maybe a little upset.

"What's up?" she asked him, voice laced with concern.

"Nothing," he said simply, glancing at her. "All good."

"Come on," she said, raising the cigarette to her lips. "What's wrong?"

He huffed. "It's Sayid. He won't give me a gun."

"Sayid?"

"Jack gave him the guns before he left. He wouldn't give me one."

Clem took another puff of her cigarette. "What do you need a gun for?"

"I needed to protect Claire." He gestured to her cigarette. "Do you mind?"

"Sure," she said, handing it to him. He was her friend, and besides, no one here was sick. It's not like they were passing around the flu or anything.  "But, Charlie, with all due respect, last time you had a gun, you—"

He blew smoke, then interrupted her. "I know," he said. "I killed Ethan. But I did us all a favor. He was a kidnapper and a murderer." He handed her the cigarette back.

"I know. But Charlie, you can't—"

"Have you ever killed someone, Clementine?" He was fully facing her now, not occupied with anything else as they spoke.

The question caught her completely off guard, and she stuttered. "...I—"

"That's what I thought," he said with a nod. "You wouldn't know how it feels. I know what I did.  But I did it for Claire. I protected her. And I'd do it again."

Clementine took a deep breath. "I'll try to put in a good word for you," she said. "With Sayid."

He smiled. "Thanks, Clementine."

She left and went over to talk to Sayid, crushing her cigarette into the sand on the way. She found him giving a group of people instructions on what to do once they arrived at the caves. She waited, then asked her burning questions, talking about Charlie, Claire, and the guns. But as she suspected, Sayid did not budge.

"I realize that Charlie did what he thought was right," Sayid told her. "But he acts out of emotion. His feelings for Claire skew his judgement."

"I understand," she said. "But doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?  He wants to protect her, Sayid.  Wouldn't you want to do the same for Shannon?"

He exhaled. "Of course," he said.  "But I am a trained soldier. I know how to make quick judgements. Charlie had never shot a gun before that. It's too risky. I'm sorry, Charlotte."

She thought for a moment.  He was right— Charlie was emotionally attached to Claire, and giving him a gun could turn into a huge mistake if anything went wrong.  Charlie wasn't exactly trained to handle it.  But Claire was Clementine's friend, too, and she wanted to keep her safe.  It was her baby that the Others wanted.  She needed someone to stick by her until they finished their trek to the caves.  Night would fall upon them soon.

"What if you give me a gun?"

Sayid furrowed his brows. "You?" he said, a little aghast. "Clementine, have you ever even held a gun?"

"Yes," she said. "I know how to handle a gun, Sayid.  And once this whole mess is over, I'll give it back."

Sayid looked at her for a moment, maybe trying to figure out if she was being truthful or not. "Alright," he said simply. "Come with me."

She walked with him down the beach, presumably to wherever he was keeping the Halliburton with the guns inside. "Where did you learn to handle a gun?" he asked.

"I used to go hunting a lot," she said simply. It wasn't not true.

"For hunting you use a rifle," he said. "We have handguns. Nine millimeters."

"Trust me," she said. "I know my way around most weapons."

"Do you?" he said to her, stopping at a place not far into the jungle. He moved a few short plants, revealing the silver Halliburton case dug into the ground. "And where is it that you learned that?"

He picked up the case out of its spot on the jungle floor, took the key out of his pocket, and opened it up.

"That's a story for another time," she said. He stood up, loaded gun now in his hand, then turned it around and handed it to her.

"Hm," said Sayid. "Well, let me know when it's time."

She smiled. "Yeah." She checked that the safety was on, then tucked the gun into the waistband of her pants. "Thanks, Sayid."

He nodded to her, and she walked away.

Even if he couldn't have the gun, Charlie was at least a little glad that Sayid had given one to Clementine. She stayed at the camp even after Sayid set off to the caves. While Charlie helped Claire with a baby-carrying solution, Clementine helped Sun pack a few things to bring up to the caves.

As they did so, conversing between each other, there was a shout and a scuffle, and they gave each other a wide-eyed look then ran outside. There was a figure laying on the ground, blonde, dressed in a white top and khaki pants. It was Claire.

Sun knelt next to her. She was bleeding profusely from the back of her head. And her baby was nowhere to be found.

Clementine took out her gun and looked around. Where was Charlie? The four of them were the last to leave, and they were supposed to go together. And where was the baby? "Help!" Sun shouted. "Help!" She'd grabbed a towel from the nearest tent and was holding it firmly to the back of Claire's head.

"I'm going to go find them," Clem said, running out toward the path to the caves. Fortunately for them, Sayid, Charlie, and Shannon were already sprinting toward the camp. "It's Claire," she told them, as Sun continued to shout for help. She ran with them.

"Oh, my God," said Charlie, running up to her.

"What happened?" Sayid asked, kneeling next to her.

"Her head," Sun explained, showing them the bloodied towel. Claire was coming to now.

"Where's my baby?"

"Where's Danielle?" Sayid asked.

"Danielle?" Clem repeated. When had she been here?

"Is he alright?" Claire asked.

"Was she alone?" Sayid asked.

"Oh, my God," said Charlie, walking away from Claire's tent.

"Did she take my baby?" asked Claire, her voice breaking.

"Claire, which way did she go?"

"I don't know!" she sobbed loudly. "She took my baby!"

Charlie's look of panic turned into one of anger.  "You were supposed to protect her!" he yelled at Clementine. He then turned to Sayid. "You brought her into the camp!" he yelled at him, walking toward him. He threw a punch, and Sayid stumbled backward, but did not punch him back. "If I'd had the gun instead of—"

He'd raised his hand to punch him again, but Sayid took ahold of his face and neck. His grip was firm, and he looked at Charlie solemnly. "Do not hit me again." Charlie lowered his hand. "You want to waste time assigning blame? There's plenty to go around."  He let go of Charlie's neck, pushing him backward.  "She has a head start. If we leave now, we can catch her."

"How we gonna do that?" Charlie argued.

"Because I know where she's going."

Clementine put the gun back into her pants and knelt down next to Claire, who was still sobbing.  "I want my baby," she said. Sun held her close, keeping the towel on the back of her head, as Sayid and Charlie ran toward the jungle.

Shannon, too, knelt next to them.  Claire struggled in Sun's arms, crying out.  Finally, she mustered up enough strength to stand up. "Claire," Sun began, but she was running now, in the same direction Sayid and Charlie had gone. Sun ran after her, and Clementine, too, got up to go, but Shannon stopped her, taking her arm. Clementine looked back at her friend.

"Stay," she said.

Clementine took a deep breath and sat back in the sand next to Shannon.

Sure enough, Sun came back with Claire, who still had tears streaming from her face, but her breathing had slowed, and she wasn't crying anymore.  Shannon and Clementine stood up, but said nothing, instead, each giving Claire a supportive rub on the shoulder.

"It's my fault," Claire said quietly. "I let her take him."

"No," Clementine said. "No you didn't. No one could have stopped her, Claire."

"Charlie is going to bring him back," Sun said.

Claire said nothing.

After gathering the last of their bags, the four of them began their trek to the caves, coming upon the rest of the group on their way there. They reached the secluded caves by evening, and the people who had already arrived lit torches and small fires for light.  The caves were dark, even when the sun's golden light casted rays across the cloudless sky.  Only small slivers seemed to beam through the cracks and the tree cover above.  Clementine set down her things right next to Shannon's. 

The blonde was staring at the medical area, at the airline cart holding all Jack's supplies and the makeshift bed he'd made out of the cushioning from the seats.  It was the last place Boone had ever been alive, the place he'd laid when she went to see his dead body for the first time. 

After his death, Shannon had been different. She talked less, smiled less, and stayed secluded from the rest of the group. She'd cared less about her appearance now, her hair messier than usual and no longer using the makeup she'd brought from her trip. Everywhere she went, she brought Boone's things with her in a suitcase.  Clem put a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she said breathily, looking down. She took a seat, and so Clementine took one right next to her, quietly.  Sun came over to them, setting a bowl of water in front of the dog, who happily began lapping it up. 

"He died bravely," Sun told Shannon, taking a seat on the other side of her.

"What?" Shannon said weakly, looking over at her. 

"Your brother," Sun said.

"Yeah," said Shannon softly. "Thanks."

The three of them were quiet for a few moments.  Sun looked down, then back up, looking at both Shannon and Clementine this time. "Do you think all this..." she began, "all we've been through... Do you think we're being punished?"

"Punished for what?" Shannon asked.

"Things we did before," Sun said, not making eye contact. "The secrets we kept. The lies we told."

Shannon looked as if she were about to cry. "Who do you think is punishing us?"

"Fate," Sun said simply.

Shannon and Clem both looked down.

"No one is punishing us," said another voice— Claire, sitting only a few feet away. She wasn't looking at them, instead, staring into the distance with a tired look on her face. "There's no such thing as fate."

Clementine didn't know what she wanted to believe.

— ◒ —

Night fell upon them quickly. The caves were lit by only a few patches of orange, but Clementine had opted to sit in one of the darker, more secluded areas. She was smoking a cigarette, waiting.

Clementine didn't know what she was waiting for, exactly. But she'd been bouncing her leg and biting her nails non-stop until she got the nicotine in her system. Maybe it was the Others, slowly creeping around them, perhaps forming some kind of perimeter. She had hundreds of questions, and no one to answer them. Too bad Rousseau was an insane baby-napper, or she might be a good source of information to have around.

Maybe that's what she was waiting for— Charlie and Sayid to come back with the baby. Would anything happen to them? Would the Others find them? Or worse, whatever monster is out lurking in the jungle? Surely, Rousseau wouldn't give up the baby so easily. She was a mother who'd lost a child. Perhaps she was trying to find a replacement. Or maybe, she thought if she could give them this baby, the Others might give her own child back. Clementine trusted Charlie and Sayid. She had faith.

But neither of those things seemed worth the cigarette. No, she was waiting for something else— someone else.

At this point, she didn't really care if they got rescued. She had gotten used to the sounds of the monster in the jungle, the insane heat, the sorry excuse for a tent she lived in (she really had to work on her architecture). She didn't care about the crazy ladies or even the mysterious natives. She just wanted Sawyer to come back.

If he came back with a rescue boat or even a helicopter or something, great. If he came back fruitless, having sailed for weeks with no luck, that was fine too. He seemed to be all she longed for. The only thing always lingering in the back of her mind. I guess you don't know what you have until you lose it, Clem thought.

BOOM.

As she was putting out her cigarette in the dirt, there was a large explosion. No one had seen anything, but the sound had come from close by. There was a collective gasp, the sound having spooked most, and then a great wave of chatter. "What was that?" "What did it come from?"

But Clementine knew.

The crew that had set off to the Black Rock must have come back safely with the dynamite, because surely, that was the sound of them blowing that hatch open. That was another thing— the hatch. It was late now, and the Others didn't seem to be coming. Did the hatch even need opening anymore? What was inside? Why was it locked? Should they really have opened it at all?

Luckily, when her overthinking was close to insanity, there was a gasp and a laugh from somewhere else in the caves.  Chatter began, and people were smiling.  In the middle of the group was Charlie, Claire, and her baby. Everyone was surrounding them, and Shannon once again had a smile on her face as Claire and Charlie embraced, baby back safely in her mother's arms. 

Clementine stepped up next to Claire just as Shannon ran up to Sayid, who was washing his face near the small trickle of water.  "You did good, Charlie," Clementine said, patting him on the back as she looked down at the baby.  He had blue eyes just like his mother's.  "Did you pick a name, Claire?"

"Aaron," she said happily, beaming down at him. The baby cooed. "His name is Aaron."

— ◒ —

Clementine buckled her seatbelt and sat back, taking a deep breath of relief.  Harry was behind her now.  Maybe back in the states, she'd create a new life for herself. Maybe she'd change her name. Go somewhere Nathaniel Bose could never find her.

Her seat-mate inched past her, a man wearing a striped shirt and sunglasses with frosted tips in his hair. He didn't look at her when he buckled his own seatbelt, then began tapping rhythmically on the armrests.

Clementine took out one of the magazines from the seat pocket in front of her, smiling at the pictures of deep-sea diving inside. After today, she decided, she was going to change her life.

And change it did.

Chapter Text

"Come on, Clementine."

"I'm coming, dad. Let me grab my things."

"What things? Hurry up, Clem!"

"Oh, be quiet, Trina," said Clementine, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "You're always collecting stuff too. By the end of the hunt, your bag will be too heavy for you to carry from all the rocks and sticks you're going to pick up."

"I like to build houses with them."

"Come on, girls." Their father chuckled.

Clementine and her sister Catrina — or Trina, as Clem liked to call her — set off into the woods behind their father. It was a very special Father's Day hunting trip, and even though Clementine didn't really like these things, she went along just to be with her dad and her sister. The outdoors were nice , but that's not what bothered her about hunting trips.

"When we go home, are you gonna cook our prize, Dad?" Trina asked.

"Yes I am, Kitty Cat."

"Can I help? I think you should make a gravy."

"Maybe I will," he said, smiling at her. "You want to help, too, Clementine?"

"Maybe," she said. The 13-year-old wasn't exactly keen on cooking the meat, either.

"You don't have to, Clem. You and Mom can make the salad," Trina suggested.

"Yeah," she said.

"Hey, maybe when I get older, I'll be a hunter like you, Daddy. And I'll own a restaurant or something."

"I'm not a hunter, Catrina, remember?"

"I know," she said. "You're a firefighter. But you hunt sometimes. Can it be a job?"

"I don't know," her dad replied curiously. "Maybe it is. What about you, Clementine? What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Clementine looked at the ground, kicking a pebble away. "I don't know," she said.

"Well, that's alright," her father told her, patting her shoulder. "You have a lot of time."

"I know."

They continued their walk through the quiet woods. There were a few other father and child groups out today, and anyone they saw, they waved to, then went on their merry way. With the woods so congested, there wasn't a lot of game left. They'd seen a few birds and rabbits, but Trina really wanted a deer, and Dad had told her they'd find one for her.

After about an hour of walking, they decided to take a break, sitting on a few downed tree trunks sitting out in the woods by a stream. While Clem and her sister went to take a drink, Dad smiled at his two daughters, then took a couple snacks out of his pack— trail mix, some veggies in plastic bags, and finally, two perfect, round little clementines.

The girls lit up, turning to him. "Thanks, Dad!" Clementine said happily, immediately using her nail to peel the skin. After finishing her own, Trina looked up at her sister with big eyes, holding out her own fruit, as if saying, a little help here?

Clementine passed her sister the already peeled fruit, and Trina took it, saying, "Thanks, Clem." She nodded, then began peeling the second one just as Catrina dug in.

— ◒ —

All was quiet at the caves.

After the excitement had mellowed out, people began drifting off to sleep, no longer able to stay awake waiting for Jack and the others. It seemed they wouldn't be venturing down into whatever hatch was out in the jungle. Clementine wasn't really keen on the idea of the hatch, anyway.

For her, it was a restless night. She decided she'd force herself to skip out on cigarettes the rest of the night, but her anxieties continued to cause nail biting and pacing. Even as everyone interrogated Charlie and Sayid about their adventure, Clementine stayed to the side, trying desperately to fall asleep. Unfortunately, no luck.

After what was maybe two hours of restlessness, people began to chatter. The torches seemed to all drift toward the entrance to the caves as the group gathered. Clem heard Charlie say, "They're back." Sure enough, when she walked over there, she found Locke, Kate, Hurley, and Jack waiting there. Jack moved through the group, stepping up onto one of the rocky platforms of the cave so everyone could hear him better. The group faced him, then waited. Clementine noticed Shannon and Sayid's hands were intertwined.

"Uh..." Jack began, looking down at the restless crowd. He shifted, scratching his face. "Locke found a... a hatch in the ground, about a half a mile from here. We left to blow it open so that we could hide inside. So all of us could hide inside, in case..." He sighed. "But that doesn't matter now because it's not gonna work. There's no way for all of us to get down in there tonight."

"Jack, where's Dr. Arzt?" Charlie spoke up from beside Kate.

Jack looked at him for a moment. "He didn't make it?"

"What?" someone said.

"How?" added someone else.

"Did you see them?" Shannon said, her voice still weak and breaking from crying. "Did you see the Others?"

Chatter began to overcome the group.

"Hey, Shannon, there are no Others," Charlie said frustratedly. "We'v already had this conversation."

"What the hell would you know?" she spat back. "Just because you didn't see anything."

"There is no one out there!"

"You don't know!"

"This is just bollocks!"

"No! You can't—"

"You're making up rubbish!"

"Hey!" Jack called. Everyone's voices immediately quieted, and their heads turned back to their leader. He stared at them all. "Everything's gonna be okay," he said calmly. "Let's just... let's take it easy. We're gonna be alright. We're gonna stay here tonight, okay? Together. We've still got four guns. We'll put lookouts at all the entrances. We're all gonna be safe as long as we stay together. The sun comes up in three hours and we're all gonna be here to see that happen. I promise."

No one argued.

As he finished, there was a clatter behind them, and their heads turned to find John Locke, packing things into a bag.

"John, what are you doing?" Jack asked.

"I'm getting some cable," he said.

"What for?"

"It's for the hatch," he answered. "I'm going in."

Everyone looked back at Jack. He stepped down from his platform and walked toward the man, who was gathering the rope neatly.

"You really think that's the smartest thing to do right now, John?" Jack said.

"I doubt it," Locke said simply, holding up a knife. "In fact, you're right. Safest thing is to stay here. Wait for morning." He put the knife in its sheath. "Wait for these 'Others,' see if they ever show up. Wait for the brave folks on the raft to bring help." He put the knife on his belt and slung the rope over his shoulder. "But me? I'm tired of waiting."

And with that, he walked through the crowd and out of the caves.

— ◒ —

"I need to talk to you."

There was nothing left to do at the caves. While some drifted back off to sleep, most of the survivors stayed awake and restless, no matter how hard they tried to get to dreamland. Clementine was a little afraid she might have another one of her nightmares if she went to sleep, with everything being so high anxiety right now.  And no one had time for that.

Shannon had taken a seat next to her as she stared into space and bit her fingernails. She looked concerned, and still upset.

"What's up?" Clem asked her, looking over at the disheveled blonde.

She took a breath. "I... I saw Walt, Clem. Out in the jungle."

Clementine sat up straighter, then tilted her head. "What?"

"He was there. I saw him."

"Walt's on the raft, Shannon."

"I saw him, Clementine," she asserted, her voice breaking. "I don't care if you don't believe me. But I think something happened to the raft. I think something's wrong."

"Shannon," Clementine said softly. She wasn't sure what to tell her.  Say she did believe her.  Walt? Here? It hadn't even been 24 hours since they set off.  What could have happened to them? And if Clem didn't believe her, would she not just be telling her friend she was crazy? "I..." She took a breath. "Are you sure?"

"It was him."

Another deep breath. "When's the last time you slept, Shannon?"

"You don't believe me," she said.

"That's not it."

"You think I'm schizo." She stood up.

"Shannon, please," said Clementine. "I don't. I don't think you're crazy."

"But you don't believe me."

The truth? She didn't want to believe her. If something happened to the raft— if something happened to Sawyer... she didn't know what she'd do. Not only their one chance of rescue gone, but the people she'd come to care about along with it? No. Not today. Not now.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Yeah," said Shannon breathily. She walked away.

— ◒ —

After a rest by the stream, the father and his daughters continued through the woods, still without sighting a single deer.  They chatted quietly among st themselves as they walked, Dad asking questions, the sisters giggling to each other when they made inside jokes. Truly, this was a happy family.

It would be getting dark soon, and that meant dinnertime. Mom was waiting for them back home, so Dad told the girls that they'd just have to bring home the next thing they saw, and that would be that.  There was a few birds around, but nothing big enough to feed their family. As the light from the sun beamed down between the trees, Clementine squinted. A short distance away, she saw something moving beneath the bushes— a small, gray rabbit.

"Look, Dad," Clementine said quietly, pointing.  Her dad and sister followed her gaze.

"A rabbit," he said. "Good eye, Clementine."

"But isn't that one too small?" Catrina asked. "Just like the birds?"

"Yes," he said to his daughter. "But that one is young. Probably only 5 or 6 weeks old. But you know what that means?"

"What?" the girls asked in unison, quietly.

"The mother is nearby. She should be big enough for dinner."

"How will we find her?" Trina asked, her eyes lit up with curiosity. Clementine knew Trina admired their father a lot, and sometimes, she wished she didn't. Maybe then they wouldn't go on these hunting trips all the time.

"She shouldn't be far," Dad explained. "The kids don't leave her until they're grown. I'll go around front and block the path, but someone will have to get her from behind."

"I'll do it!" Trina said excitedly. "Am I old enough now, Dad?"

"I think you just might be, Kitty Cat." He smiled at her proudly, then took a knife off his belt and handed it to her. She took it gingerly, examining it before picking it up, then wrapping her fingers tightly around the handle. "Right on the back of her neck, okay? You have to be quick and quiet."

"Okay," she said.

"You'll keep watch from the side, alright Clementine?" he said, turning to his other daughter. "Once we find her, don't let her get away."

Clementine nodded quietly.

"Good."

Slowly, the trio snuck further into the woods among the flora and fauna. They spotted another young rabbit as they walked , then another, and paused once they came upon the mother, a three-pound rabbit sitting and waiting in the grasses, unsuspecting of the hunters nearby. She bounced a little, and Dad held his two daughters back, then snuck around a tree to be in front of the rabbit, who still didn't see him.

Once he was ready, he gave Catrina the signal, a simple nod and smile. While Clementine inched to the side, Trina slowly stepped forward, raising the knife.

They'd watched their father do this dozens of times. Hunting rabbit with knives wasn't exactly ideal— shotguns were the best bet for these fast animals— but Dad had always preferred knives. He'd taken them to the gun range once or twice, but he didn't own any hunting rifles. From many a hunting trip, they knew what they were doing.

Clementine watched as Trina walked toward the rabbit, which still didn't see her.  But as she got closer, the rabbit seemed to hear her, and it twitched and began to hop away.  Somehow, Trina was quicker than the rabbit, and as her father blocked its path, she lunged at it, burying the knife into its back. Clementine closed her eyes.

"I did it!"

"Good one, Kitty Cat," Dad said, coming around and patting her on the back. "You did a good job."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Clementine, you want to help us cut it up and bring it home?" her father asked, kneeling beside the rabbit as Catrina took the knife out.

She blinked her eyes open. "Uh, yeah," she said.

Clementine wasn't much of a help as Catrina and her father gutted and cut their prize. She held the occasional knife and was a third hand sometimes, but really, she had zoned out. She'd never seen Catrina kill anything before. She was younger than her. Shouldn't Trina be the scared one? Shouldn't Clem be the one showing her sister what to do? Shouldn't she be good at these things? Why was she so afraid?

It came so easy to Trina. Clementine wished she were in her sister's place.

— ◒ —

Kate had gone with Locke into the hatch, and after nearly an hour, Jack went in after them. Their leader was gone, descended down into whatever darkness lie inside that damn hatch. This is insane, thought Clementine. I would've left that thing shut. Why hadn't they come out yet? What had happened down there? What was inside? Maybe she didn't want to know.

Deciding to get up and move around a bit, she found Hurley sitting by the small waterfall at the edge of the caves, the place they filled all their water bottles. He was muttering to himself worriedly, but instead of sentences, Clem heard a short series of numbers coming from his mouth, over and over. "4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42."

"What are those numbers?" she asked. He looked up quickly, brows raised.

"Huh?"

"Those numbers. What are they, some kind of mantra?"

"Mantra? No," he said, shaking his head. "Definitely not."

"Come on, Hurley, I'm bored out of my mind. I can't go to sleep. Just tell me."

"It's a long story."

"I got time."

"You're gonna think I'm crazy."

She tilted her head. "You can't be crazier than me. Go ahead, humor me."

He sighed. "When I was..." He looked at her for a moment. "When I was in the mental institution, there was this guy. Leonard. And all he said were these numbers. It was like he didn't know any other words. So a little after I got out, I decided to play them in the lottery. Just for kicks, you know?" He took a deep breath. "So I did it. And I won 114 million dollars."

Clementine looked at him, mouth agape.

"I promise you I'm telling you the truth."

"No, I believe you, I'm just... surprised."

"Most people around here think I'm telling them a joke."

"I don't," she told him. "Continue."

He nodded. "I won," he said. "And it was great for about thirty minutes. But after that... bad things started happening. My grandpa dropped dead. I bought my mom a house and it burned down. I bought a fast food joint, and a meteor hit it." He paused. "Meteorite, actually. I keep forgetting," he mumbled.

"The numbers," she reminded him.

"Right," he said. "Those numbers... they're cursed. Everything in my life went bad after I won, Clementine. And then I saw them again. Marked on the outside of that hatch. I told them not to open it. I told them not to." He was rocking back and forth a little.

"Hey," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned to her suddenly, wiping his long, curly hair out of his face. "Between you and me?" she continued. "I don't like that hatch either. It creeps me out."

— ◒ —

Somehow, they made it through the night absolutely unscathed. Everyone brought their things back to the beach and moved back in, away from their temporary living quarters. All of them, even Claire's child, were unharmed, and set off back to the beach in the morning. Energy was low— everyone was tired, but there was no longer a haze of anxiety resting over them. Once the sun rose, Clementine cooped herself up inside Sawyer's tent, and took a nap underneath its blue roof, shielding her from the light outside.

When she woke up, it was still light outside.  She found Shannon sitting on the beach, the dog Vincent laying in her lap. He seemed tired, too, just like Shannon did. Clementine wondered if she'd slept at all.  She walked up to her friend silently, then took a seat next to her, staring out at the water.  The dog poked its head up, but placed it back on Shannon's lap once he noticed the familiar figure. 

"Hi," Shannon said, not looking at the brunette next to her.

"Hi," said Clementine. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," she said.

"You slept?"

"A little."

"Mhm," said Clem with a nod. "Where's Sayid?"

She shrugged. "Kate came around looking for him," she said. "He and Hurley went down to the hatch."

Clem furrowed her brows, then turned to her. "Why? What's going on?"

"I don't know."

There was a few more moments of silence.  Rhythmically, Shannon ran her fingers through Vincent's surprisingly soft yellow fur.  He seemed to enjoy the scratching from her nails on his neck, because his eyes were closed and his tail was wagging.

"I'm sorry," Clementine blurted. "I believe you. About Walt."

Shannon looked at her.

"I don't think you would lie to me," she said. "And I don't think you're going crazy. I just don't want to believe you. I can't."

"Because of Sawyer," Shannon said.

"Yeah." Clementine looked down.

"All I know is I saw him," Shannon said. "He put his finger to his mouth and shushed me.  I don't know if anything happened to the raft.  But I know what I saw.  It was like I could reach out and touch him. I know how insane I sound, Clem. I want them to be okay too. I want to get out of here."

Clem sighed. "You really think something happened to them?"

Shannon shook her head. "I don't know."

They sat there for a little longer, watching the waves pull back and forth. Neither of them knew what else to say, too afraid to disappoint the other. Clementine cared about Shannon. She wanted to believe her. Shannon wouldn't lie to her, but she wasn't exactly right in the head right now. Maybe her vision of Walt was some sort of lucid dream? A sort of vision? It wasn't possible. Walt was on the raft, miles and miles away from the island. He was with his dad. And Jin. And Sawyer. If Walt was here, back on the island... what could have happened to them?

But even if Shannon was seeing Walt, even if he wasn't there... that meant something. She barely knew Walt. It had to be some kind of crazy sign, right? Even if Walt wasn't here, they didn't know where he was. They had no contact with the people on the raft. They were supposed to be rescued. They were supposed to be saved.

By nightfall, everyone went to sleep quickly and quietly. Clementine was glad Shannon was getting some rest, too— she saw her sleeping by her tent, Vincent resting peacefully by her feet. The dog had clung to her— they'd played fetch and simply stayed together during the light hours of the day. In the mere 24 hours she'd had him, Vincent had taken a liking to her.

Clementine slept in her own dinky little tent this time. Maybe tomorrow, she'd find some help and fix it up, make it taller, a little more space. It wasn't exactly the nicest around here. Everyone else had built themselves a roof, even a good structure with bamboo and could actually stand inside their tents. Clementine's was only tall enough for her to sit. With all her camping experience, you'd think she'd be able to do a little better. Those tents weren't exactly made from scrap metal and bamboo.

When she woke up in the morning, she only remembered one thing about her dream.

His face.

Chapter Text

It had been two days since they'd opened the hatch, and still, Clementine knew nothing about it.  Honestly, her frustration with the whole idea was beginning to turn to curiosity, but no one knew anything that could answer her questions.  Locke, Kate, Sayid, and Jack were still down there.  Hurley had gone in, too, but he'd come back and forth.  She knew now that it was safe down there, but their endless hours underground still left many of her questions unanswered.

She'd ventured into Sawyer's tent late that morning for a cigarette, and noticed that it was emptier than it had been when she'd took her nap yesterday. Of course, her cigarettes were untouched, but some suitcases had been unzipped and his stash had definitely dwindled. She looked around the tent, but his extra shaving cream, medicine, even batteries, were nowhere to be found. Even a couple of his books were missing.

She got out of the tent, and saw Charlie passing by, seemingly on his way back from Claire's tent.  "Hey, Charlie?" she called, box of cigarettes in her hand.

"Hi, Clementine," he said. "What's up?"

"Some of Sawyer's stuff is missing," she said. "You know where it went?"

He glanced at her hand. "You, by the looks of it."

"He gave these to me," she said, holding them up. "I mean his other stuff. His stash."

He glanced around.  "I think they've spread it out," he said.  Looking around the camp, Clementine realized that people did seem to have his things.  Shaving cream, deodorant, and a couple people on the first few pages of novels.

"What?" she said.

"It was never his in the first place," Charlie said with a shrug. "Besides, he's not supposed to come back, is he? There's much more of it where he's going."

He was right.  He wasn't ever supposed to set foot on this island again. "No," she said, "I guess not.  Thanks, Charlie."

"Hey," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You okay? I know you and him were... close."

"I'm alright."

"Want to go for a walk?"

"Doesn't Claire need help with the baby?"

Charlie shook his head. "She's feeding him right now," he said. "He'll sleep after that."

"Okay," she said, stepping away from the tent.  "Sure."  They walked down the beach and toward the ocean.

"You going to light one?" he said, gesturing to the cigarettes.

Clem chuckled, then took a cigarette out of the pack. She looked over to see three people around a small fire, and not wanting to take out a match, she asked them, "You mind?" as she held up the cigarette. One of them gestured to the fire, as if to say, "Go for it." She did, then took the first puff, nodding to them in thanks.

"You know, I'd never take you for a smoker if I saw you," said Charlie as they continued walking.

"I get that a lot," she said.

"So, what did you do?" he asked her. "Back in the real world, I mean."

She chuckled. "A lot of things," she said, an unsure tone in her voice.

"Something not exactly legal," Charlie guessed. Clementine gave him a look. "No, no, don't tell me," he said. "I want to guess."

"Charlie—"

He continued. "Crime boss." He looked her up and down, then shook his head. "No. Okay. Drug runner?  Dealer?"

Clem sighed. "I really wish you'd—"

He cut her off again. "Alright, hold on." He put his hand to his chin. "Okay. Getaway driver? Bank robber? Ooh, hitman."

Clementine flinched.

Charlie tilted his head and blinked at her. His smile faded. "Hitman."

"You shouldn't have kept going."

"You're not serious. You were a hired killer?" Charlie stopped walking.  He was keeping quiet, at least.

"When you put it that way, it sounds bad."

"Is there a way to put it where it doesn't sound bad? You're joking, right?"

"Why would I joke about that?"

Charlie sighed. "You've really killed people?"

"Now we've got something in common."

"I wasn't getting paid."

"Okay," she said, with a "that's enough" sort of tone.

"Sorry."

"No, you were just joking with me," she said. "You didn't think I'd actually choose one."

"No one here seems to know anything about you," he said. "I figured it wouldn't be something you could tell people about. I just didn't think you'd be a hitman."

"Hitwoman," she corrected, smiling a little.

Charlie chuckled.  "Sorry."

They continued their walk down the shore.  There was barely a cloud in the sky today, and there was a wonderful breeze hitting their backs.  The water whooshed beside their path, washing their footprints away every few seconds.  "So how do you get into that business?" Charlie asked.

"Well, first you have to be very broke and very desperate," she said. "Then the people who need someone killed tend to just find you." She took a puff of her cigarette, then realized that she'd never even offered it to Charlie.  She turned to him, then held it up, brows raised.

"No, thanks," he said, shaking his head. "You're ruining my quitting streak," he chuckled.

"I assume you were a smoker," she said, thinking of the times he'd taken a drag or two before.

"Something like that," he said. "You know, as long as we're telling our life stories," he began, looking down at the sand, "I wasn't exactly a model citizen, either."

"Oh," said Clem curiously.

"I smoked occasionally," he said with a shrug. "But not for a long time. I was more of..." He paused a moment. "I was a bit of a junkie."

"A bit?" she repeated. How would someone go about being a bit of a junkie?

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, I was... I was a heroin addict." He nodded as if he were admitting it to himself. "You know—" He turned to Clem— "when the plane went down, you know where I was?  I was in the bathroom, having a fix. I couldn't even go a few hours without it."

"So you had it on you," she said. "And now? What now?"

"I'm done," he said, shaking his head. "Never again. Haven't had a fix since our first week here."

She smiled. "Good for you, Charlie."

"What about you?" he said. "Are you done?"

"Done with what?" she asked.

"Killing," he said simply.

Clementine exhaled.  "I hope so."

— ◒ —

She was sitting by her tent now, having given up on upgrading it without the help of anyone else who knew how to do these things. She was finishing off a mango with a makeshift spoon she'd carved out of a thin bamboo branch.  She even thought about making more utensils for the group, just to have something to do.

As she finished up, she saw Shannon and Claire walking by, the latter with her baby in her arms. "Hi, Clementine," Claire said softly.

"Hey, guys," she said, standing up, then looking over the baby.  She took one of the child's small hands in hers. "Hi, Aaron," she said with a smile. "How is he?" She looked up at his mother. Neither her nor Shannon were smiling.

She smiled weakly at Clem. "He's good," she said. "But we wanted to talk to you, Clementine.  I found something. Shannon and I thought you should see it."  Claire looked at Shannon, who pulled her hand out from behind her, then held something out, a green bottle with a cork stopper and a scratched away label.  It had sand on it, and a collection of little pieces of paper rolled up inside.

"It's the messages from the raft," Shannon said, as Clementine took it, her smile fading away. She examined it.

"Where did you get this?"

"It washed up on the beach," Claire said. "I found it on my walk. It was just... in the water."

Clementine looked at it, mouth slightly open.  She ran her fingers along it, staring at every grain of sand resting over the glass. It was real. Very real. Her fingers made her way up to the cork, and she pulled it, then sat back down on the sand and dumped it out, the rolled up letters slowly coming out of the top.

"What are you doing?" Shannon asked.

"I have to..." She shook the bottle harder, then as the last one came out, began looking through the notes. "I have to find mine."

Shannon and Claire just watched as she quickly skimmed over each note and placed anything back into the bottle that wasn't hers. Finally, she came upon her own handwriting, letting out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. She stuffed it in her pocket. 

"Are you okay?" Shannon asked, bending down to help her pick up the rest of the notes and put them back.

"Mhm," Clem said. "Yeah. I just... I think I'd rather be alone."  She handed the bottle back to Shannon and they both stood up.

"You sure?" Claire asked.

"Yeah," she said. "You guys should tell Sun. She'll know what to do with it."

"Okay," said Claire.

"Thank you for telling me," she said.

They both nodded, then walked away, off to find Sun. 

Carefully, Clementine took her note out of her pocket and unfolded it, reading over her messy handwriting.  It was exactly how she'd left it, rolled up perfectly, waiting for its recipient's eyes.

James.

I know your nosy ass is probably going to read all of these just for the sake of entertainment. The one lousy book I watched you pack is probably only going to last a day before you get bored.

By the time you read this, we'll already have said our goodbyes. As of right now, I'm expecting to never see you again. When you get us rescued, we'll be off the island and our paths will probably never cross.

We don't even know a lot about each other. I don't know if I'd call us friends, but I'd like to.  I want to be your friend.  You're the only thing in this place that ever made me feel like it was all going to be okay.  The only person here who's actually been able to understand me.

I guess I'm a coward for never telling you any of this in person. But we'll never see each other again, so I guess it doesn't matter now. And if I've read you wrong, if you really don't ever read this, then I guess I just wrote it for myself, didn't I?

Thank you for all the cigarettes.

Clementine

She didn't even know if he'd read it, and probably never would. She supposed now she had a letter of her own, just like he did. Maybe nothing happened to them at all— maybe the bottle had accidentally went overboard. Maybe they were fine. Maybe they'd been found. Maybe she would see him again.

But she just knew. She knew everything wasn't okay. Because in this place, it never was.

Like she'd said in the letter— she didn't even know him very well. She'd never even told him about her past, even if he'd told her about his. They'd known each other for a little over a month, and in most of that time, she was annoyed with him. He was annoying. But he was her friend nonetheless. He'd shared with her, something that she found he didn't do often. He'd gotten to know her a little. They spent time together. And he always knew when she needed a cigarette.

This was incredibly stupid. They would be going to Sun then, whose husband was on that boat. A person she knew and loved and had spent years with. What right did Clementine have to be upset about Sawyer? So what if he was dead? So what if she'd never see him again?

But she was upset. Plus, she still owed him.

— ◒ —

The sun had set now, and everyone was sitting around the fires. Many of them looked happy, especially Jack and Kate. Jack had his arm around her shoulder. Clementine joined the group in the clearing by the tree line, but made sure to display she wasn't exactly up for a conversation. No one else seemed to know about the raft or the bottle that Shannon and Claire had found.

Later into the night, Hurley came around to the survivors. Somehow, he'd gotten ahold of a copious amount of non-perishable food. Everyone celebrated him as he distributed it, allowing them to have a wonderful feast that night. He'd definitely brought spirits up, and everyone seemed to be smiling now. He came by the place where Clementine sat last, handing her a generic white box that read "DHARMA INITIATIVE FISH CRACKERS." There was an octagonal logo on the box with the word "Dharma" in the middle. Everything seemed to have the same logo.

"No clementines," he said, "but these are orange."

She took them with a smile. "Thanks, Hurley." She opened the box, and inside were Goldfish-type crackers. She reached her hand inside curiously, pulling a few out. "Where did all this stuff come from?" she asked.

"The hatch," he said. "All of it was down there in this giant pantry."

"The hatch," she repeated. He took a seat next to her. "What's up with the hatch, anyway?" she asked him. "Why's everyone down there all the time?"

"Not everyone," Hurley said, playing with the sand.

"Okay, you, Locke, Jack, Sayid, sometimes. What's down there, Hurley?"

"I don't know," he began. "It's kinda... sensitive information."

"Come on," she said. "It's been days, and I know nothing about this mysterious hatch. Surely people are going to start asking questions now. They gotta tell them sometime."

So Hurley agreed, and Clementine listened intently as he told her everything he knew about the hatch in the ground. He told her about the man that had lived down there for who knows how long, about the computer button he'd had to push every 108 minutes, or the whole place would blow up. Not just the hatch, either, but the island, and maybe more. Sayid had apparently found some kind of electromagnetic anomaly in the walls behind layers and layers of concrete. Hurley told her about all the stuff down there, the pantry, the armory, the guns, the record player, the working showers. Locke was down there now, pushing the button every 108 minutes. Hurley said they'd be assigning shifts soon.

It was a lot.

"So... what happened to him?" Clementine asked.

"Who?"

"The guy down there."

"Oh," Hurley said. "He left. When Locke and everyone first went down there, there was a problem with the computer. Jack told me the guy just ran. No one knows where he went. Sayid fixed everything, but by then, he was long gone."

"Huh," said Clem curiously.

"Yeah."

She put some of the fish crackers into her mouth. God, had she missed processed foods.  And for being in a bunker for who knows how long, all this stuff had to have some insane preservatives in it.  The more the better, Clementine thought. The mango-papaya-fish diet gets exhausting. The crackers were absolutely delicious. She could probably eat the whole box right now if she wasn't looking to grab some chocolate bars and peanut butter from some other people.  Chocolate.  Her stomach grumbled at the thought.

As she began walking around to the group, saying hi to her fellow survivors with Hurley close behind, she thought of Sawyer, and how much he'd like this.  He'd make a few sarcastic comments about how Hurley was the one giving away all the food, then start hoarding stuff just for the hell of it.  She kinda hated that she missed him this much.

This island really couldn't get any crazier— there'd been a feast under their feet this whole time, deep underground in some hatch, along with a mysterious runaway and a computer that apparently saved the world every hour and a half. Maybe it can get crazier, Clementine thought. Maybe I'm jinxing it right now.

But even if Clementine's hope was running low, at least everyone else was happy.  At least, for one night, they could actually believe this could all have a happy ending.

But not for Clementine. Because she never deserved that.

Chapter Text

"Hi, Clementine?"

Clem looked up. It was a hot day, and she was wishing there was sunscreen left somewhere on this island. Unfortunately, that was one thing the hatch did not provide, since its habitants weren't really supposed to go outside.  The sun was high in the sky— it was most likely around noon, but Clementine didn't have a watch like some others did. The ocean thrashed against the sand, and tide was high. Clementine was sat by her tent, reading through a fashion magazine for what was probably the 3rd time.

"Hi, Sun," Clem said, squinting as she looked up.

"Have you seen my wedding ring?" She gestured to her left hand.

"Your wedding ring?"  She glanced at the hand— the finger where the silver band and diamond used to rest was now empty. "No, I'm sorry," she said. "Have you checked the garden? You might have buried it in the dirt somewhere."

Sun nodded. "I checked," she said.  "I checked everywhere. Thank you anyway, Clementine."

"I hope you find it."

Sun gave her a smile, then walked off, talking to the next person. The interruption in reading was Clem's sign to stop and get up, maybe go for a walk.  This place could get incredibly boring, and there was only so much to do.  Locke had a backgammon set that had been in his bag when the plane crashed, but even that got boring after a while. She thought some good conversation was in order, so she went straight to Shannon, who was with Vincent on the beach, throwing a stick back and forth.

"Hey, Shannon," she said, walking up to her.

Shannon looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.  Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and even with the shade from her hands covering her face, she could see the dark circles under her eyes. She definitely hadn't had a good sleep in a long time. Clem knew Sayid was worried about her, too. Since Boone's death, she'd just been different. A little more hopeless. It had rubbed off on Clementine, too.

"Want to go for a walk?" Clem offered.

Vincent dropped the stick beside Shannon, then panted.  "Sure," Shannon said, standing.  She took hold of Vincent's leash, and they walked up the beach toward the tree line, into the jungle for some shade.

It was definitely cooler there. They didn't go far from the beach, of course, just walked close to the tree line, but hiding from the sun was much nicer than being out on the beach right now.

"How have you been doing?" Clem asked her, concern in her tone.

"Fine," Shannon said, brushing it off.

"Shannon," Clem pressed.  "Boone died."

"I know," said Shannon, watching Vincent walk through the jungle happily.

"I know things seem to have gone back to normal for most of them," Clem said. "But no one forgot. I want you to know that."

Shannon looked at her through teary eyes, then down at the ground. "I miss him."

Clementine put her arm around her friend's shoulder. "So do I."

"You and him... you guys talked a lot?" Shannon asked.  Clem supposed she was never really involved with her brother's endeavors on the island, what with all his time with Locke out in the jungle. 

"Not a lot," Clem said. "But we had a long conversation once. He was a good guy, your brother."

"I know," Shannon said. "Listen, can we please talk about something else?"

Clementine looked over at her, then nodded. "Yeah, yeah." She thought for a second, but no conversation topics came to mind. So they walked quietly together, watching as Vincent sniffed every leaf in his path.

"I never asked you what you did," Shannon said, after a few minutes of silence.

"Hmm?"

"Your job," Shannon said simply, still not looking at her. "I told you I was working on being a dancer. But you never told me what you did."

Clementine chuckled a little. "Oh."

"So?"

"I worked at an accountant's office."

Shannon looked at her, brows raised in disbelief. "You were an accountant."

"I didn't say that."

"Oh, come on," Shannon said, rolling her eyes a little. "That wasn't your real job, was it? You told me once you killed someone. Accountants don't do that, do they?"

Clementine sighed.

"Alright," said Shannon. "Fine.  Don't tell me."

"I just... Shannon, it's really not something I like to tell people."

"Okay. Let's play 20 questions, then," she said.  There was definitely frustration in her voice. "I'm going first. Who'd you kill?"

"You really get right to it, huh?"

"That counts as a question. My answer is yes.  You have to answer mine, now."

She sighed. "A lot of people."

"A lot of people," she repeated, though there was little shock in her tone. "Really?"

"Yes.  And that counts as a question." Shannon rolled her eyes. "My turn," Clem continued. "Why'd you con Boone all those times?"

"What?" she said suddenly, stopping in her tracks.

"Boone told me everything," Clementine said, tilting her head. "Now you tell me."

Shannon bit the inside of her cheek. "When my dad..." She took a breath. "When my dad died, my stepmom got everything," she said. "Every penny. I got this dance internship in New York. Nothing was paid, so I needed the money, just to get on my feet, you know? So I asked. And she gave me nothing. She always hated me, and she hated me even more after my dad died."

"So you stole money from Boone by convincing him to pay off your boyfriends."

Shannon looked into her eyes. "That counts as a question."

"It was a statement."

"Look, I don't like what I did, alright?" Shannon said, picking up their walk again. "But I had to. I had nothing. I couldn't even take the internship, this thing that I worked my ass off for, because I didn't even have money for a month of rent. I did what I had to."

Clementine sighed.

"My turn," Shannon continued. "Why'd you kill all those people?"

"Cause I was paid."

"There's lots of jobs out there."

"Well, it was a lot of money. And I was already a killer. Might as well get paid, right?"

Shannon furrowed her brows. "So who were they?"

"What?"

"The first person. The first person you ever killed."

Clementine and Shannon just stared at each other for a moment. This was like some sort of insane icebreaker, like an extreme get-to-know-each-other session. Surely, they knew each other now. How many questions had Shannon even asked? Clem counted in her head before answering— 4?

Clem took a deep breath. "My sister."

"What was her name?"

"I don't think I like this game anymore," said Clementine, picking up the pace.

"No," said Shannon, catching up to her. She grabbed Clem's hand, and she turned to her, stopping their walk once again. "You're my friend," she said. "You're my best friend. I want to know you."

Clementine bit her lip. "Shannon..."

"I don't care what you did," she said. "Just like you don't care what I did. We've all done bad things, okay? Every single one of us. And you and I both know the raft's not okay, and we're not getting out of here anytime soon. Okay? So I don't care if you killed a million people. Just like you don't care that I stole thousands of dollars from Boone. Because we're probably going to end up dying on this damn island. So we might as well entertain each other with the sad existences we used to call a life."

Clementine took a deep breath. "Trina," she said. She was holding Shannon's hand, now, too. "Her name was Trina."

"Your turn," said Shannon simply.

They began walking again as Clementine thought. "How'd your dad die?"

"Car crash. Why'd you kill your sister?"

"It was an accident. Why Boone?"

"Cause no one else ever loved me enough to do that for me." Clementine saw a tear running down her cheek. Shannon wiped it away quickly, but her eyes were still red.

"You took advantage of him."

"I don't need a lecture from a paid killer."

It should have been an insult, but it made Clementine smile. She put her arm around Shannon's shoulder. "I'm glad we're friends, Shannon," she told her.

Shannon looked over at the brunette for a second, then smiled. "Yeah," she said. "Me too."

— ◒ —

The water was calm the next day. She'd gone for a swim that morning, a quick rinse-off from yesterday's dirt. Sun had fortunately found her wedding ring, with help from Kate. Everyone was very glad to hear someone in this place had good luck.

Now, Clementine was helping Hurley and Rose, an older woman, hang up some laundry to dry.  Rose had created a clothesline coming from the side of her tent out of some long, used wiring from the plane. It was sturdy enough to hold and balance the wet fabrics, which Rose liked to wash in the fresh water at the caves.

"Um, tell me again why we're doing this here when there's a dryer in the hatch?" Hurley asked, carefully placing a shirt over the wire.

"I don't like the hatch," Rose said simply.

"Oh," Hurley said. "It's because of the doomsday button, isn't it?"

"Well, who needs a dryer when we've got sun and fresh air?" she said. She hung another shirt over the line. "Wouldn't wanna spoil ourselves, now would we?"

Hurley and Clem glanced at each other. "Yeah, 'spoil,'" Hurley chuckled.

"Hey," said another voice. Clem looked up and saw Shannon standing next to Rose now, running her fingers through her hair. Vincent's leash was wrapped around her other hand. "Do you guys know where Michael and Walt left the stuff that they didn't take with them on the raft?"

"What kind of stuff?" Hurley asked.

"Their clothes?"

"Uh," Hurley looked up toward where they used to live, further toward the tree line. "I think their stuff's still on the beach, back where their tent is."

"Thanks," Shannon said, then she ducked under the clothesline and went that way, Vincent following close behind.

Clementine watched her go curiously. "I'll be back," she said to them, jogging after Shannon. "Shannon," she called. The blonde stopped, turning around. "What are you doing with their stuff?" she asked.

Shannon took a few steps closer to her friend. "I saw him again last night," Shannon said.

"Walt?"

Shannon nodded. "He's out there, Clementine," she said. "I have to find him. I thought Vincent could catch a scent or something."  She glanced up toward Michael and Walt's tent.

"Have you slept at all, Shan?"

"No one believes me!" she said. "I know what I saw."

"I believe you," Clem told her, putting a hand on her shoulder.  "I just... I think you need to take a few steps back."

"I know what I saw," she repeated.

"You're gonna get yourself hurt."

"I'm not asking for advice."

Clementine sighed as Shannon turned around and started walking again.  She looked down, then back up at the blonde and the dog stomping away, then called her name again. "Shannon."

She stopped and turned around, glaring at her.

"I hope you find him," Clementine said.

Shannon's gaze softened.  She gave Clementine a weak, straight-mouthed smile, then walked up into Michael and Walt's area. Clementine watched her for a moment, staring as she picked up one of Walt's shirts, made Vincent sniff it, then let the Labrador pull her into the jungle, barking the whole way.  Once she couldn't see them anymore, Clem went back.

— ◒ —

It was raining now. Clementine closed herself up in her tent, hiding from the sheets that poured from the sky. Luckily, no thunder or lighting, but these tropical rainstorms could be unpredictable. One minute it was sunny, the next, dark skies and a downpour. And the rain could stop just as quickly.

Fortunately, this storm only lasted about 10 minutes. As the sky cleared, she walked down the beach, finding Charlie, Hurley, and Kate near the edge of camp. Kate had a golf club in her hand. "Past the hanging tree, double or nothing," Hurley said.

"You sure?" Kate asked him, smiling as she looked at the tree in the distance.

"Dude, double or nothing. There's no way you're making it that far."

"What's going on?" Clem asked, a smile on her face.

"Kate's got an arm," Charlie said. "The woman's on bloody steroids."

"You play golf?" Clementine asked Kate, brows raised.

She readied her shot, looking down at the ball. "Nope," she said.

"I think she just likes swinging big sticks," Hurley said.

"What are you guys betting?"

"Money," said Kate. She glanced at Hurley. "Double's 10,000 bucks, you know."

"Oh, that's nothing to someone who's worth a 150 million dollars. He can build you your own course, if you like."  He sounded sarcastic.  Hurley had won the lottery, though. At least, from what Hurley had told Clem.

"What's he talking about?" Kate asked, chuckling.

"Ignore him, he's an idiot," Hurley said.  Kate followed his instructions and raised the golf club, then struck immediately.  The four of them watched as the golf ball went way past the hanging tree.

"Wow, Kate."

"Whoo-hoo-hoo!"

"Crap!"

Charlie laughed.

"You hooked it," said another voice. Jack walked up from beside them, most likely having come from camp. "Try keeping your left arm straight," Jack told her.

Kate smiled, walking up to him. "You giving me tips?"

"Watch this," Clementine muttered to Charlie and Hurley.

"Oh, we know," Charlie said back.

"Kate, I'm... I'm a doctor."  He smiled at her.

"So you think you could do better?" she said.

He chuckled, looking away for a second. "Anyone can hit a ball. That's..." He shook his head. "That's not golf."

Kate took a step closer. "And what's golf?"

"Golf is accuracy."

"Well," began Kate, "why don't we play a few holes and see which one of us is more accurate?"

Hurley oohed. "Fighting talk," Charlie said playfully. He glanced at Hurley, smiling.

"You're kidding, right?" Jack asked.

"Three holes, no handicap," said Kate simply. "We play for bragging rights."

Charlie laughed as Jack looked away, then back at Kate. "What are we waiting for?" she said.

Jack raised his brows, then looked over at their three onlookers. Clementine nodded at him, and Charlie and Hurley smiled.

Clementine walked with them for a while. Charlie and Hurley were good people to be around.  They definitely brought spirits up, what with their cracking jokes and taking shots at each other.  Charlie really didn't believe Hurley about the whole millionaire thing. Sure, Clementine knew it seemed a little far-fetched, but after this place, with its polar bears and French women and hatches, is a lottery winner so hard to believe?

After doing a circle through the jungle, they came back to camp and split up. Clementine went back to her sorry excuse for a tent, deciding to take an afternoon nap. The sun could definitely tire her out.  Even though the sun was beaming down upon her, Clementine fell asleep quickly.  She hadn't felt truly awake since the crash— she was always tired nowadays.

— ◒ —

"Farm girl!"

"I wish you'd stop it with that, Diana."

Diana threw her arms around her friend, then welcomed her into her apartment.  It was a messy studio— clothes were just about everywhere and she had loud music playing from a radio in the corner of the room.  There was a bowl of chips and salsa on her coffee table, and she'd seemed to have cleared the couch of her belongings, anticipating Clem's arrival.  Nothing was decorated— no photos on the walls or in frames, no shelves of various trinkets, no little pieces of memories or personality scattered about.  It didn't bother Clementine, though. The mess was decoration enough for Diana.

It had been a little more than 2 years since their first job together. She and Diana had been fast friends, getting along well.  Clem had never been able to bond with someone emotionally the way she'd been able to do with Diana, and them having the same occupation made that a lot easier. They were the only two who knew each other's secrets. They hadn't done any jobs as a team since, but it was better that way— no need for them to be associated both professionally and personally.  It was more discreet.

"What is this noise?" Clem asked, sitting down on the couch. 

Diana walked over to the radio and turned it up.  "You all everybody, you all everybody!" the song sang. It was repetitive and didn't have any other discernible verses.  The worst part? It was horribly catchy.

"It's Driveshaft!" Diana said happily.

"It's pop-rock garbage," Clem said, walking over the radio, changing the station, then lowering the volume. Fifties hits— much more tolerable.

Diana chuckled. "So, what have you been up to? It's been a little while."

"Yeah, I was out of the country."

Diana raised her brows. "Again? Doing what?"

"Cliff-jumping."

"You're insane. You should come to a movie with me sometime, you know."

Clem shook her head. "Not enough action."

"We could go to the video store and rent Mission Impossible."

"I don't like Tom Cruise's face."

"You're no fun." Diana dipped a chip in salsa, then took a bite. "Hey," she said, mouth full. Clem chuckled. "How's that guy you've been seeing? Keith, right?"

"Yeah," Clem said. "I broke up with him."

Diana sighed. "What was wrong with this one? You've been dating him for, what, two weeks?"

"He was just... I don't know."

"Oh, come on. One of them yells at his mom, another one doesn't like dogs... what did Keith do?"

"Well, we were at this store in the mall, and I bought a shirt, and I pointed out some earrings by the register I liked, but I didn't buy them.  After I ring up, and we get out of the store, he pulls something out of his pocket, and it's the earrings.  He didn't pay for them or anything."

Diana tilted her head, raising her brows. "He shoplifted something."

"Yeah."

"So you broke up with him?"

"...Yeah."

She put her hand to her forehead, still looking at Clem. "I hate to break it to you, but you have killed people."

"Well... he doesn't know that. I could be a nice girl!"

"But you're not."

"It's the principle of the thing."

Diana sighed again. "Clementine, you're crazy. You looking for Mr. Perfect?  You're not gonna find him."

"Maybe, though," Clem said. "Maybe if I weed out all the bad ones, I'll find him."

"Okay, you find Mr. Perfect.  You think he's gonna want a picket-fence life with a killer?"

Clementine sighed, looking down. Diana put a hand on top of her friend's. "You can look all you want, Clem. But be a little more honest with yourself."

"Yeah," she replied. "Okay."

— ◒ —

Clementine was shaken awake violently, hearing Kate's voice repeat her name, then call for her to wake up. She groaned, rolling over, then blinking awake. Kate's eyes were wide, and she was panting as if she'd been running. Clem sat up, balancing on her elbows.

"Get up," Kate said, pulling her. "You have to come with me."

"What's going on?" Clem asked, coming out of her tent and standing. She brushed sand off her, then followed Kate toward the tree line and into the jungle. "Kate, what is happening?"

"Sawyer's back."

Clementine stopped walking.

"What?"

Kate noticed her pause, and turned around. She took a couple careful steps toward her as she realized Clem's shock.

"He's alive," she said. "Jack and I were playing golf, and a man came up, carrying Sawyer on his shoulders. He was unconscious. Come on. We have to keep moving," she said, taking her wrist and leading her through the jungle, toward the hatch.

"I— what—" Clem couldn't seem to get any words out, so Kate just continued. They picked up the pace.

"We took him to the hatch," Kate explained. "He was barely awake. He was sick, burning up. There was a bullet hole in his shoulder. Jack said it was infected. We have to give him antibiotics, but he's too out of it to take the pills. Jack tried. I tried. He just keeps spitting them back up."

"So... you want me to try? What makes you think I can do anything you or Jack can't?"

"He's been unconscious for most of the time. But he's been mumbling. I don't know what he's saying. We've only heard one thing clearly, Clem."

"What?" Her voice shook.

"Your name."

Clem exhaled.

Kate led her through the jungle and into the second entrance for the hatch, an airlock door hidden at the base of a tree, covered by leaves.  Kate moved the vines, then opened the door, and they stepped down a rather long set of stairs that led inside of a gray, metal room.  Both the door to the outside and the door to the inside of the hatch had that logo on it— the octagonal symbol reading DHARMA in the center. The only difference was that these had a picture of a swan in the middle underneath the wording.

Kate opened the second door, revealing the hatch.  It was a drab, unsaturated place.  Kate walked her through a concrete hallway with minimal lighting, past a room she only got a glimpse of— it had a geometric dome ceiling and a computer inside, very 70s technology, by the look of it.  They continued through the hallway, passing a faded, messy mural on their way into the main living space, whose color still seemed to be drained.  The place was decorated in grays, maroons, and olive greens. 

There was a small kitchen, whose counter was scattered with medical supplies, and across from it, just behind a couch, there was a bookshelf with an endless supply of reading material, and a ping pong table folded up against it. Near that was a small table with two booths in a nook, behind which was something that looked like a window, but was instead a large sunlamp meant to pose as artificial light. Nearest the kitchen, there were two more doors across from each other— both closed, and one with a combination lock attached to the door.

On the couch, a man was sitting, one she'd never seen before, with dark skin and curly hair. He was wearing a tattered shirt and pants and had a large stick attached to his belt.  Clem assumed this was the man that had brought Sawyer back.  John Locke was standing across from him, watching the man curiously.  She looked neither of them in the eyes, too occupied with what was inside this hatch to pay them any mind.

She walked past a laundry area, too, with both a washer and a dryer, just like Hurley had said.  Neither were running.  Across from the laundry area was a bathroom, and the door was open— Clem spotted a shower, two toilet stalls, and a sink with a big vanity mirror. 

"He's in here," Kate said, interrupting Clem's crazed stare at this place. It felt like actual civilization.

Kate led her through a door and into a bedroom.  There was only a bunk bed sitting there, along with another one of those artificial windows behind it.  Jack had pulled a chair into the room, and was sitting beside the bottom bunk, on which Sawyer laid, eyes closed.  Clementine walked gingerly toward him.  He looked near peaceful— it was unnatural.  He was sweating and he tossed and turned weakly as she walked in his direction.  Kate stood near the back of the room, arms crossed.

"This is what he has to take," said Jack, holding up a white pill.  He had a glass of water in his hand.

"Can he hear me?" Clem asked, not looking away from the blond.

"Yeah," Jack said.  Clem sat on the bed beside him.  "You'll have to hold his head up," he told her.

"Okay," she said, climbing onto the bed and picking up his head carefully. He exhaled, and Jack held out the pill. Clem took it, placing a hand on Sawyer's forehead. The rest of his back balanced on her arm. "Hi, Sawyer," she said softly. "It's Clementine." She put her head closer to his. "You have to listen to me, okay?  You have to take this pill." She was whispering now. "You told me you wouldn't die, Sawyer. I still owe you, remember?" She took a breath. "I need you to swallow it, okay?" She put the pill up to his mouth and slipped it inside.  Jack handed her the glass of water. Sawyer's breath fogged the glass as she tipped it into his mouth. "Go ahead," Clem said. "Go ahead." Softer this time.  And he did.

"Good," Clem said, smiling. "Good."  Sawyer coughed, but it was okay. The pill was in his system now.

"Nice job," Jack said, smiling. "We never learned the whole 'whisper in the ear' thing in med school."

Clementine chuckled weakly, still holding Sawyer close. After a couple more seconds, Jack and Kate stood, readying to leave the room. Kate smiled at her, then they left, leaving the door partially open behind them. Clementine heard Jack shouting, but couldn't make out any of his words, too occupied with Sawyer. The commotion continued, though Jack's voice didn't stand out anymore. She decided she should be out there, so she pushed the hair out of Sawyer's face, then allowed him to lay back down. He breathed out, and she went around him and off the bed, then out of the room.

In the main area, all standing near that padlocked room, was multiple people. Kate and Jack were there, as well as Locke and the mystery man that had been sitting in the hatch earlier.  Having joined them down there was Sun, and finally, Michael. They were all back. Where was Jin? Was Walt really out there in the jungle? And who was this other Black man that had brought Sawyer in on his shoulders?

Jack had a rifle in his hands. It was brown, with black detailing. He went into that padlocked room, which Clem could now see was the armory, and grabbed another, handing it over to Michael. "You know how to use this?" Jack asked him.

"Guess so," Michael said, taking it. Jack handed it to him, then started heading for the airlock door.

"Stop!" the mystery man shouted.  He was tall, and muscular, too, and had an accent, some sort of island, or maybe African. Clem couldn't tell. "Please," he said, once Jack stopped walking. The man took a couple steps toward him. "What do you want?" he asked him.

"Excuse me?" Jack replied, with a tilt of his head.

"Peace, revenge, justice? And you are going out with all these guns." Another step towards Jack. "What do you want?"

"I want all of our people back here safely," Jack said, stepping up so that him and the man were only a foot apart. "Your friend—"

"Ana Lucia made a mistake," the man asserted. 

Jack just looked at him for a second. "What'd you say?"

"Ana Lucia made a mistake," he repeated, quieter this time.

Jack paused for a moment, looking down at the ground. "Ana Lucia," he said. He sighed, putting a hand to his head.

Clem looked at Kate for answers, but she had none, and just shrugged, just as confused as Clementine was.

Finally, Jack looked back up. "I will take you there," the man told him. "But only you. And no guns."

Jack paused for a moment, then finally, handed his rifle over to Locke, who took it. Jack nodded to the man. "Let's go," he said. So they left.

— ◒ —

Clementine was sitting with Sawyer now, and Locke was with her in the hatch, waiting to push the infamous doomsday button.  But the bedroom door was closed, so really, she was alone.  Sawyer was shaking and shivering. Jack had told her to just let the fever run its course. Now that he had the antibiotic in his system, the infection would slowly be fought off. His breathing was heavy and his forehead still warm. It scared her, looking at him like that.

"Hey," she said finally, after a minute or so of simply watching him. "I know you can hear me," she said, leaning close and pushing his hair away from his face. "You're gonna get better, okay?" she said. "I promise you."

She couldn't guarantee anything.  But maybe the promise wasn't for him. No, that promise was for Clementine. She needed it. She needed him.

As Sawyer's chills continued, a rhythmic beeping began to sound throughout the building. Clementine furrowed her brows, then stood up.  It didn't sound urgent, but it was loud and continuous.  She walked out of the bedroom, then into the main area, and saw Locke, sitting at the computer. He was turned around, looking at her.  He motioned her over.

"What is that?" Clem asked him, taking a few steps into the room.

"That's the alarm," Locke said. He gestured to the computer. "Means it's time to push the button."

"Huh," Clem said, looking around.

The computer room was tall and wide. The ceiling was a geometric dome, and surrounding the walls were multiple data centers for the old computer, blinking and spinning. The floors were plain concrete, just like the rest of the hatch. In the center of the room, sat a single, beige computer, big and bulky, and a green cursor  blinked on the screen.  The beeping continued, and Clementine looked up to see a countdown clock, flipping the seconds each time the alarm beeped. 3:42. 3:41. 3:40.

"You want to try?"

"Me?"

"Sure. You got fingers, right?"

Clem chuckled weakly.

Locke stood up, then gestured to the seat. She looked at him, and he nodded again, so she sat down, facing the computer. The cursor blinked, ready for her to type.

"Now, first, you put in the code," Locke said. "We put it on the sticky note." He tapped on a yellow note stuck to the computer.

"4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42," Clem said as she typed. Hurley's numbers again.

"Now, you press the button."

Locke pointed. In place of an enter button on this keyboard, there was a button that read EXECUTE. Clementine pressed it, and the beeping stopped. She looked up, watching the countdown clock flip from 3:11 to 108:00. Then she looked up at Locke, who patted her on the back.

"There you go," he said.

"Why can't you just enter the numbers right now, save yourself some time?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Doesn't work like that," he told her. He then reached out toward the keyboard, and began typing, but the screen stayed blank. "Can't type anything until 4 minutes, when the alarm goes off."

"What does it do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Every time we press the button. What does it do?"

"Stops some sort of electromagnetic charge from going crazy, I guess," Locke said.

"Huh." She looked back at the computer, and its black screen seemed to look back at her. Of course, on their wonderful island, there wouldn't be any modern technology. And nothing that worked well, either.

"How's Sawyer doing?" Locke asked, after a few moments of silence.

"Okay," Clem said.

"Hey, I can watch Sawyer for a while if you'd like," he said. "I know you might want to go up to the beach."

Clem tilted her head. "The beach?"

Locke looked at her for a moment. "You don't know," he said. "I think you should go up to the beach."

She stood. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "This isn't where you want to find out. Go, okay? I'll hold down the fort here."

Locke nodded to her, and she left. Through the airlock, up the stairs, then through the jungle, she got down to the beach and found a big commotion of happy people.  Michael was back, and Jin was, too. She didn't see Walt. Everyone surrounded Jin and Michael as they told tales of their adventures. Sun, of course, was the only one who understood Jin, but everyone was overjoyed to see him either way.  There was two more people, too— people she'd never seen before, a woman with dirty blond hair and soft features, and an older man, who seemed to cling to Rose. What had Locke been talking about?  What had happened? Surely this wasn't what he wanted her to see.

And then she spotted them.

Jack was walking out of the jungle a few yards away. There was a dark-haired woman in a black tank top not far behind him, and next to him was Sayid. All their faces were sad and solemn. Clem watched as they walked closer, trying to get another look.  Sayid was holding someone— a blonde, whose limp, lifeless body was covered in blood.

Shannon.

Chapter Text

Sayid dug her grave by himself.

Clementine had been paralyzed. She could barely move. Barely said a word. Kate tried to comfort her, tried to get her to talk, to move, to say something, but she just watched as Sayid walked past her, Shannon in his arms. When her lifeless body was out of sight, Clementine felt like breaking down, like screaming, like crying. She told Kate she wanted to be alone.

She never got to keep anything she loved.

Clementine wouldn't have been able to help Sayid. She would have been a hindrance more than anything, so she went back down to the hatch and sat with Sawyer again. He was sleeping peacefully when she reached him, so she closed the door and just cried. She let the tears fall, let her face get red and puffy, and sobbed into the sheets beside him for about an hour before she fell asleep in the chair she was sitting in. Her head was buried in her arms, which were placed crossed on the bed.

Jack came to treat him. She didn't leave the room. Jack offered to watch him, Locke offered to watch him, but she didn't leave the room. During what might have been the middle of the night, Sawyer began to mutter, mostly incoherent other than some mumbled, "no"s. She just sat there by his side as the alarm beeped every 108 minutes, as Jack changed his dressings, as he had another dose of the antibiotic. She only slept for 3 hours.

Jack came back for the third time in that 24 hours, this time to change Sawyer's bandages. He walked into the room quietly, with a small smile on his face. "Hey, Clementine," he said. "How's he doing?" He walked over to Sawyer.

"Good," she said simply. "Still sleeping."

"Yeah," he said. Sawyer tossed and turned, but didn't say anything. "It's been a while," Jack said. "I've gotta change his dressings, but when he wakes up, he's gonna be hungry. You mind grabbing him something to eat for me? Mangoes, maybe? Anything works. Something light."

"Um," Clementine shifted. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, sure."

"Kate's out there," he said, nodding. "She can come with you, if you want some company."

"Okay," Clementine said.

"Thanks, Clementine." He patted her back. She simply nodded, then with one last look at James, she left the room, and went through the hatch and up into the airlock. Kate was indeed waiting there. Unlike Jack, she wasn't smiling.

"Hi, Clem," she said softly. "You okay?"

"Hi," she said. She decided not to answer the question.

Kate began walking, twiddling with her fingers as they went further into the jungle. There were mango trees close by, and it wasn't a far walk. Clementine would have preferred silence right now, but Kate spoke anyway. She was only trying to help.

"They're having her funeral in a little while," Kate said. "Jack and I thought you should go."

Clementine said nothing, so Kate just continued.

"One of us can watch Sawyer, if you're worried about him," she said. "I don't mind. I know you two were close."

Close.

"You should be there," Kate said.

"Yeah," said Clementine.

Kate didn't say anything else.

They continued walking, soon coming upon a tall mango tree. As Clementine climbed up the tree to pick the fresh, unripe fruit, Kate stayed down on the ground, grabbing anything that was ripe and salvageable. As Clementine came down from the tree, three mangoes in hand, Kate was looking off to the distance, brows furrowed and lips parted. Clementine hopped down, and Kate whipped her head around, but upon seeing Clem's face, her features softened.

"Did you see that?" Kate asked.

Clem shook her head. She hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. "What?"

"There was..." Kate looked back in the other direction. "There was a horse."

"A horse?"

"A big black one," she said.  "Just out there. You didn't hear it?"

"I... no," Clementine said.

Kate exhaled. "I'm exhausted," she said. "Let's go back."

"Okay."

Once they got back, Jack, too, encouraged Clementine to go to Shannon's funeral.  Even though she didn't want to leave Sawyer's side, she knew she would regret it if she didn't attend. So Jack walked with her back to the beach while Kate would try to feed Sawyer and handled the button. His fever was still high, but he hadn't eaten in 24 hours, and Jack said getting food in his system might help the antibiotics along. Clementine trusted him.

They walked back to the beach silently, accompanying the rest of the group to what had become their graveyard. Her cross of sticks was planted right next to Boone's, and had her name carved into it.  Shannon Rutherford. Her body lay inside her deep grave, wrapped in a black tarp. She couldn't see her face, and she wouldn't have wanted to. No, Shannon would refuse to let anyone see her like that, lips and cheeks pale, lashes uncurled. It was better this way.

— ◒ —

It was getting dark, but they still had at least 45 minutes before sunset.  Her father had taught her to get the time by reading the sun long ago, just as he'd taught her sister and her mother, too. Clementine didn't like sleeping in tents. She didn't like hunting or cooking food over a campfire, and she wasn't really a big fan of s'mores, either. But she did all of those things without complaining, because Trina liked it.  Trina's happiness, at least to Clementine, was more important than her own.

Trina chased her sister around the camp, laughing as they did so, knocking over folding chairs and piles of firewood. "Girls," their mother scolded. "No more running around the campsite, alright? We've got a fire going." She gestured to the campfire in the middle of the small clearing in the forest where they'd set up. Dinner was just finished, and Clementine and Trina were working it off in the final hours of daylight.

"Can we go run somewhere else?" Trina asked.

"Of course," Mom said. "But not too far, girls, alright? Keep an eye on your sister, Charlotte."

She nodded. "Okay, Mom." Trina was already running into the forest, and Clem chased after her, smiling. She waved at her mother, who smiled back.

Clem ran after her sister, weaving through the trees. For a moment, she couldn't see her, but as she slowly snuck around the side of one of the thicker trunks, she found her sister, smiling, her eyes closed. "Gotcha!" Clem exclaimed, hitting her shoulder, then running as fast as she could. Catrina laughed, then ran after her.

The game went on for ages as they ran in circles, keeping close to the campsite. But when it was Trina's turn to be chased once again, she seemed to just keep going outward, taking care that her older and faster sister couldn't see her through the thick trees. "Trina!" Clementine called, out of breath. "Catrina, we're too far!" It was getting much darker now. Trina looked back with a smile on her face, but continued to run. "Trina, I don't want to play anymore. We have to go back." She stopped in her path.

"Aww," Catrina whined, stopping her sprint and turning around. She walked back toward her sister, just as Clem felt a few, small drops on her shoulders. "Just a little longer? The sun didn't set yet."

"It's gonna rain," Clementine said, looking up at the cloudy sky. Even though they could see the sun lowering between the tree trunks, the blue sky above was covered by a huge rain cloud. "We have to go back."

Trina looked around as the droplets became slightly heavier. The drizzle became a sprinkle. "Do you know where the campsite is?"

Charlotte looked around. The fire in the distance that she'd been keeping an eye on as they ran was now nowhere to be found, not even a faint glow. It seemed to get a lot darker a lot quicker as the sky thundered. She sighed. "No," Clementine said. "They're around somewhere. We'll find them, okay?" Clementine put a hand on her sister's back, though Trina didn't seem to be too worried by it.

As the downpour began, they walked, searching for signs of their campsite, calling for their mother and father, trying to find the way they'd come from. They were cold and soaking wet now, after being in the rain for nearly 10 minutes. "Look," said Trina, pointing in front of her. There was a dark cavern created by a hill of rocks, a perfect temporary shelter, just until the rain stopped.

"I don't know," Clem said. "I think we should keep looking. Try going the other way."

Lightning flashed across the sky, then thunder again.

"Please?" Trina said, giving her sister's hand a squeeze.

"Okay," Clem said. It wasn't good to be near trees during a thunderstorm, especially with the lightning so close by. They ventured inside the dark cave. There was no light, and thinking they'd be close to the campsite, Clementine hadn't brought anything with her. They went further inside, the minimal light from the forest being the only thing lighting their way.

They were only a few feet from the entrance of the cave when they saw a bright light flash. They whipped around— lighting had struck close to the entrance they'd come from. Before they had time to react, a tree fell in front of them, knocking the front of the cave and causing the floor to shake. Trina wrapped her arms around Clementine as the floor rocks began to fall from the top of the cavern, sealing the entrance. It was almost completely dark now.

Trina and Clementine simply looked at each other, and though it was dark, they knew they were both afraid. As the thunder and lightning continued, they went up to the entrance. The rocks didn't budge, and the downed tree trunk was surely in front of them, keeping them in place. If they tried too hard, the rocks higher up might fall on them. They shouted for a bit, but no one could hear them over the rain and thunder.

Suddenly, they heard a trickle— some sort of water flow coming from behind them. The sisters joined hands again, then walked toward the noise. "Water," Trina said, seeing little flecks of light shine over the steady flow. It rolled in from above somewhere, and now that the cave had been sealed off, it would stay inside. The sky thundered again, and the rain became louder.

"I'm gonna see if there's a way out up there," Clementine said. "Stay here."

"Okay," Trina said, as Clementine let go of her hand and began to climb. She tried and tried, but the rock was too slippery, and the mud kept sliding down over the flowing water.  She clawed at the rock, and slipped again, taking some of it down with her— the water began to pour in quicker as it thundered again.

"I can't," Clem said, shaking her head.

"The water," Trina said, stomping.  Her feet caused a quiet splash. Now that the rock slide had blocked the entrance, the cavern was filling with water.

At first, it was slow, beginning to sink into the dirt underneath their feet. But as the water continued coming down through the larger opening, it began to puddle below them. "I want to try," Trina said. "Help me up."

"If you open it any more, the water could come in faster," Clementine said, as they changed places.

"I won't," she said.

Clementine pushed her upward, staying close behind her younger sister. Trina got a little higher than she did, her feet smaller, able to fit between the rocks. "I can see it," she said. "It's not big enough for us to fit. I need to open it." She reached her hand up.

"No," Clementine said. "The water."

"I can help you up," Trina said.  "We'll be quick. Before it starts pouring in."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Clementine said, putting one foot up onto the rocks as the water continued flowing in around her. Their puddle was growing, covering the ground of the small cavern. A rock rolled past her as Trina clawed at the opening. Another, and another.  All of a sudden, the downpour fled into their opening and Trina fell, knocking Clementine over on her way down.  Her attempt had created a waterfall. 

Again they tried to get up, but still, the hole was too small for them to fit through, and it was nearly impossible to get up there now. The water was nearly a foot high now, and in their panic, all the girls could do was yell.  "Help," "Mom," "Dad," anything, at the top of their lungs. They were cold and wet and scared, and they held on tightly to each other's hands.

"You won't let go, right?" Trina said to her sister, over the sound of the thunder and rain.

"No," Clementine said, giving it a squeeze. "I'm not going to let go."

The water kept pouring in. Two feet. Then three. Four. They were swimming now, and Clementine finally thought to look up— the rain was still heavy, and the thunder shook the walls every time it sounded.  They probably only had a few minutes before the water filled the small cavern.

"Stay with me, Clementine," Trina told her, still holding tight to her hand.

"I will," Clementine said. "I will."

"Maybe we can try swimming through the opening again," she said, her voice shaking.

"We can't fit," she said. "If we open it any more, the water will come in faster."

"How are we going to get out?"

Clementine began shouting for help again, and her sister joined her.  They had nothing. No light to shine, nothing to signal, and if they started pushing on the rocks near the cave entrance, more would just fall on top of them. Clem had seen how high they'd been piled atop the cave outside, and she cursed herself for ever agreeing to step inside it. But in the lightning storm, there hadn't been a lot of other options.

In a little less than 15 minutes, Clementine and Trina were under water. It was dark, and they couldn't see each other under the water, but their hands stayed intertwined.  They swam towards the opening, and the muddy water sprayed at their faces, hurting their eyes and pushing them away. With their open hands, they dug at the origin of the water, and it continued to come down, flooding their faces. Still, the opening wasn't big enough.

The water pressure heightened. Suddenly, Clementine felt Catrina's hand slipping. Clem shouted, but closed her mouth quickly before any water could get inside. Trina slipped away, and Clementine heard her screaming, all the while clawing at the opening.  As she pushed away a large chunk of earth, she was thrown backward in the flooded cavern, shouting again. Clementine swam, searching for her sister, but she couldn't see anything. The muffled yells seemed to stop.

There was more light now, but her attempts to find Trina were useless.  She looked behind her, seeing that the opening up to the surface was big enough for her to climb through.  Running out of oxygen and hard-wired for survival, she did so, crawling out of the flooded cave and away from the deep flow of water that had been pouring in.

Clementine began to shout Trina's name. She didn't stop when lightning struck. She didn't stop when the sky thundered. She didn't stop when a tree fell a few yards away. The rain stopped, but her tears kept falling, and she kept shouting.

She didn't stop shouting when her parents came, and her mom grabbed her shoulders and asked what happened, and where was Catrina, and why they went so far. Her throat was raw now.  She was losing her voice. So she sobbed, kneeling down on the ground. 

Her father had moved the rocks, and the water flowed away, allowing him to access the inside of the cavern. Her sobs got louder as he walked toward Charlotte and her mother, a lifeless Trina in his arms.

— ◒ —

Sayid stood over Shannon's grave, twiddling with a necklace in his hands as people gathered. The necklace was Shannon's, slightly stained by blood and sand.

Her death was an accident. The four people that had come with Sawyer, Michael, and Jin were from the tail section of the plane. They'd shipwrecked on the other side of the island when the Others destroyed the raft and took Walt right out of Michael's hands. The woman who shot Shannon— Ana Lucia— thought she'd been one of them. One of the others. All four of the tail section survivors— which was all that was left— looked like they'd been through much worse than they had here on the south side of the island.

It was an accident, just like Boone had been an accident, just like Catrina had been an accident. So why did Clementine need to find someone to blame?

Clementine stood close to Jack. Sayid looked down at Shannon, the necklace still resting between his fingers. His shoulder-length curls were tied back in a bun, and he was wearing a gray polo shirt instead of the tank tops he usually opted for. Everyone was here now, waiting for him.

"Shannon and I were strangers," he began. "We never would have met if..." His voice faltered. "We wouldn't even have spoken if..." He exhaled. The pause was long, but not awkward. Many people stared down at the sand, or waited with patient faces. "But we did meet. And we did speak." His breathing was heavy, as if he were on the verge of tears. "At least..."

Everyone waited solemnly for him to finish. Sayid breathed once more, looking down into her grave. "I loved her," he whispered.

Then after another moment, he walked away, through the crowd and down the beach. After he was gone, Jack stepped up, taking a scoop of sand from the pile beside the grave, then held it over her. "May she rest in peace," he said, letting the sand fall down into the grave over her wrapped body.

Others followed suit, taking turns scooping up sand and sprinkling it over her, slowly burying her piece by piece. When it was finally Clementine's turn, she carefully took some sand in both hands, then carried it gingerly over her grave. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and let go, watching the sand fall over her.  She watched, standing close to the grave, until everyone had sent her off with their final wishes. It was simply a dusting of sand, and the rest of the grave would have to be filled now.

"Hey," said Jack, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We're gonna bury her."

Clementine didn't look at him. "I want to do it," she said.

"You sure? I can—"

"I want to do it."

Jack took his hand away. "Okay," he said. He gave her a nod, then walked away. She was alone now.

Clementine took the bamboo log they'd carved into a shovel and began scooping up large amounts from the pile of sand beside the grave. One by one, Shannon's wrapped body was buried underneath the sand. The sun beamed down on Clementine as she shoveled, each scoop a daunting memory. Just like everyone else she'd ever loved, Shannon was gone.

— ◒ —

Black was Clementine's least favorite color.

She took a breath, staring at the dress in the mirror. It was the only thing she had in the color, something inherited from her mother when she was young. It was simple and plain, and she hated wearing it. But she did. Only for Trina.

Clementine hadn't stopped crying since she died. Even now, her face was red and puffy, and her parents had barely spoken to her. The Roberts' didn't exactly have a lot of extended family— it was a small funeral, and everyone was devastated. Most notably, her mother.

Much like Clementine, Mom hadn't stopped crying. Dad tried to comfort her, to no end, and Mom did nothing but drink all morning before the funeral, loudly sobbing as the priest spoke over Trina's coffin. There was a gathering at the house now, and Charlotte had gone upstairs to freshen up before greeting 30 people she didn't even know.  "It's so sad," "We're so sorry," "You're so strong," they'd say.  What were they sorry for? They weren't there.  They didn't do it.

No. According to her mother, Charlotte did.

She was sure it would blow over eventually.  Her mother was drunk, she was tired, she was grieving and angry and upset. She surely couldn't blame Clementine for much longer.  And not today, in front of everyone.

She stepped downstairs, having done the best she could with her face. She greeted the few quiet people downstairs, passing endless photos of Trina on the way. Her face seemed to stand out, in her class photo, in their family photo, in photos of just the two sisters. She was the only thing Clem could even see.

"You," her mother's voice said, as she stood up from the couch. A pile of tissues fell on the floor and she nearly stumbled forward, but Dad caught her. "What are you doing here?"

"Marianne," her dad said, taking ahold of his wife's hand carefully. She ignored him.

"No," she said. "You can't be here."

"Mom..."

"You need to leave," she said, pointing back upstairs.

"Mary, this isn't the time," her dad said, standing now. "Please. She was her sister."

"This is her fault!" her mother yelled. "It's her fault my baby's dead!"

Clementine backed away, shaking her head.

Her fault? How could mom ever blame her for something like that? Surely, she knew Clementine wasn't capable. She'd never killed anything. She tried to save Trina. It wasn't her fault. It couldn't be.

"I think it's best you go upstairs, Clementine," her father told her. "Okay?"

Aghast, Charlotte simply nodded.

Her mother was sobbing hysterically now, her mascara streaming down her face as she muttered incoherently. With one last look back as her mother took a sip from a silver flask, Clementine walked away.

— ◒ —

After finishing the burial, Clementine went back down into the hatch. The walk through the jungle was quiet, and she entered the hatch through the airlock, walking slowly down the stairs. She heard someone coming up from the hallway as she went down, their steps quick and heavy.

Jack passed her on the stairs, and he had an urgent look on his face. "What's wrong?" she asked, turning around. He stopped and turned to face her.

"I have to find Kate," he said. "Ask Locke. Check on Sawyer."

"Kate— what?"

But Jack had already turned back around and headed out the door.

Kate was supposed to be with Sawyer. Where was she now? What had happened?

"Hello," she called, stepping out of the stairway and into the hall. "John?"

"In here," he called, from the computer room. He was sitting at the desk. The button had 88 minutes left.

"John, what is going on?" she asked. "Where's Kate?"

"Don't know," he said, standing up from the chair. He began walking out of the room toward the main living area. "We got here, and the alarm was going off, only had 20 seconds left. Sawyer was on the ground, and Kate was gone."

"Oh, my God," she said. "Is he okay?"

"Sawyer's fine," he said with a nod. "He's resting now."

"Has he said anything?" 

Locke shook his head. "I didn't hear anything. Just the usual mutters and groans. He's in the bedroom now," he finished, gesturing toward the open door. He took a seat on the couch.

"Thanks," Clementine said. He gave her a nod, and she walked into the bedroom. Sawyer was sleeping again, and there was an uneaten bowl of mashed mangoes on a dresser by the wall. She sat in the chair nearby, placing her hand on his.

"You chased Kate away, huh?" she said. At the sound of her voice, his head turned. "Yeah," she said. "That's what I thought. You know where she went?"

Sawyer breathed deeply.

"Hm," she said. "I worry about you, y'know." She let go of his hand and checked his forehead— the fever was lower, but he was still a little warm. "You're doing better," she said. "A lot better than you were when I first saw you."

Sawyer turned his head again, muttering something she couldn't make out. Clementine quieted, taking a seat beside him on the bed so she could listen closer, but he didn't try to speak again. So instead, she just stared at him, sleeping peacefully, and tucked a messy strand of hair out of the way. His hair was getting long now, and it hadn't been washed in a long time. When he woke up, he'd desperately need a shower.

After hearing some more chatter outside of the room, she decided to leave Sawyer be and check what was going on. Locke was in the main sitting area, setting up what looked like one of those old reel-to-reel projectors. A small screen sat at the other end of the room as he unpacked all its components. "What are you doing?" she asked him.

He smiled at her. "We're gonna watch a movie," he said. Two others were present in the room— Michael, and the dark-skinned man with the accent who had brought Sawyer back. He'd been at the funeral, along with two of the other tail section survivors. Not the one that killed her, though. "Want to join us?" Locke asked.

"Sure," she said. "Hey, Michael," she greeted him, looking over to where he stood by the bookshelf. "Doing okay?"

He nodded. "As well as I can."

"I get it," she said. Clem then looked over at the other man, who watched John set up the projector curiously from the couch. "Hi," she said to him. "I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Charlotte.  Most people call me Clementine."

"Good to meet you, Charlotte," he said politely, a smile gracing his face. He had a short beard and curly hair, and was still wearing the tattered shirt from when she'd first seen him. When he spoke, his words were calculated, yet simple. He shook her hand. "I am Eko."

"Eko," she repeated, as their hands came apart. He nodded.

"Here we go," Locke said, walking over to the light switch. He shut them off just as the video began playing, the sound of the film rolling being the only sound. The screen was dark with white words reading THE DHARMA INITIATIVE, then underneath it, in a smaller font, 3 OF 6: ORIENTATION. Light music began to play in the background as the text faded and turned into that octagonal logo once again— this time, with a swan in the center, just like it was carved on the outside of the airlock doors, and into the wall near the entrance to the computer room.

ORIENTATION - STATION 3 - THE SWAN, it read at the bottom.

Then the screen faded again, this time, to an Asian man in a lab coat. He was tall, with thick brows and a long face, and had a very stern voice. "Welcome," he said. "I'm Dr. Marvin Candle, and this is the orientation film for Station three of the Dharma Initiative. In a moment, you'll be given a simple set of instructions for how you and your partner will fulfill the responsibilities of this station. But first, a little history."

He went on to explain the origins of the Dharma Initiative, a place created in the 70s by two doctoral candidates to be a large scale research compound for scientists and other great minds. It was funded by some guy named Alvar Hanso, and they studied basically every field under the sun. Then Dr. Candle continued with the instructions.

"You and your partner are currently located in Station Three, or the Swan, and will be for the next 540 days. Station Three was originally constructed as a laboratory, where scientists could work to understand the unique electromagnetic fluctuations emanating from this sector of the island. Not long after the experiments began, however, there was an incident, and since that time, the following protocol has been observed."

He walked around to a table, where there was a small model of the computer room, complete with data centers, the geometric dome ceiling, and the small computer in the center.  He continued.

"Every 108 minutes, the button must be pushed. From the moment the alarm sounds, you will have four minutes to enter the code into the microcomputer processor." There was a skip. "...induction into the program." Another. "When the alarm sounds, either you or your partner must input the code. It is highly reccomended that you and your partner. It is highly reccomended that you and your partner take alternating shifts. In this manner, you will both stay as fresh and alert—" Another few scratches on the film, and a skip. "...utmost importance, that when the alarm sounds, the code be entered correctly, and in a timely fashion. Do not attempt to use the computer for anyth—"

Another white flashing in the film cut him off, and the stern look on his face turned into a much friendlier one. "Congratulations," he said. "Until your replacements arrive, the future of the project is in your hands. On behalf of the DeGroots, Alvar Hanso, and all of us at the Dharma Initiative, thank you, namaste, and good luck."

John shut the projector off, then turned to them. All three of them seemed a bit confused, maybe even more so than before they'd seen it. "Alright," Michael said, a hand on his forehead. "So you've been pushing that button every two hours since you got down here?"

John nodded. "That's right."

"How's that even work?"

"I've set up two-person shifts. Six hours. Everyone's on the roster."

"Don't they wanna know why?" Michael asked.

"What happens if you don't press it?" Clementine added.

"I think the film's pretty self explanatory," John shrugged.

"Really?" said Michael, glancing at Clem. "All I heard was something about electromagnets and an 'incident.' What about all the missing pieces?"

"Oh, you mean the splices?" John asked. Clementine nodded— the cuts were odd. "Yeah, just a frame here and there, I think. Nothing important." Then he looked at Eko. "What do you think?"

Eko was staring at the blank screen, and had been since the video ended. Slowly, he looked over at John, turning his head oh-so-slightly. "About the film, what do you think?" John asked again.

He was still quiet as he stared at John. Michael and Clem turned to him, waiting. Eko then stood up, waited for a moment, then walked away. Clementine and Michael gave each other looks as John watched him go with his brows raised. "Guess he's not a fan," John said, once he had gone.

"I'm gonna find Jack." Clementine stood, taking the same path as Eko up and out of the hatch and into the jungle. She didn't see him on the way out, but she did end up finding Jack on the beach, walking toward a clearing by the tree line with the axe.

"Jack," she called, jogging to catch up. He turned and paused. "Did you find her? What happened?"

"Yeah," he said. "I..." He shook his head. "I don't know."

"You don't know? What did she say? Why did she leave?"

"She didn't say. She just..." he trailed off. "She was going on about not being perfect. I don't know. She left before I could get any answers."

"Do you know where she went?"

He shook his head again.

"So you got nothing out of her? What about Sawyer? The button? She just left!"

"Clementine, I tried, okay? I can't make her do anything. If she doesn't want to tell us what happened, then she won't."

"You know she trusts you the most out of anyone here."

"Well then she must really want to keep it a secret. Why don't you find her and ask?"

Clementine let a sharp breath out her nose. Jack turned back around, walking up toward the clearing.

All in all, Clementine was just frustrated. Sawyer had been Kate's responsibility, and they'd just found him on the ground? She was supposed to be watching over him. What had happened? Why had she left? And why wouldn't she tell Jack what had happened? Maybe Sawyer had said something that had made her run off— she wouldn't put it past him, but he was basically half-dead right now. He couldn't possibly have done anything to her. God, she just wanted answers.

— ◒ —

Clementine was sleeping when she heard her mother begin to shout her name. She glanced at the clock— 4am. Confused, she slowly rose out of her bed, but not before her mother could burst through the door.

Mom had been so different since Catrina died. She didn't speak to Charlotte unless she was yelling, and if she wasn't doing that, she was either drinking or sleeping. Dad was at work all the time now, even on holidays and birthdays. It had only been three months since Trina's death, but everything had changed.

Her mother never stopped blaming her, but Clementine had a hard time believing it. Their final moments in the flooded cavern replayed every night in her dreams. It had been dark, but in these, she could see Trina's face so clearly. She would let go, and suddenly, Trina was standing there in the state Dad had brought her back in: purple lips, soaked hair, cold eyes.

"Get up!" her mother yelled, walking over to her bed. Clem backed away, eyes wide. "Get up!" Mom pulled her arm, pulling Clementine up and out of her bed.

"What's wrong?" Clementine asked. "What's going on, Mom?"

"You," she said. "You're wrong."

"I don't understand," she said. Mom had led her into the kitchen, then let go of her arm.

"Did you take the last of the beers from the fridge?"

"What? Mom, that's—"

"Don't lie to me!" she yelled. "You're the reason everything is wrong now! You're the reason there's no beers left in the fridge, you're the reason this house is a mess, you're—" Her mother sat onto one of the kitchen chairs with a loud sob. "You're the reason she's dead," she said, sobbing into her hands. She cried loudly for a few seconds, then stood, looking up at Clementine. The 13-year-old had a confused look on her face, perhaps laced with some pity for her poor mother. "You're the reason she's dead!" her mother yelled, pointing at her.

Charlotte shook her head. "No," she said. "I tried to protect her. I tried to save her. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't—"

"You're the reason she's dead!"

With the last word, her mother gave her a sudden slap, turning Clementine's head to the side, eyes shut. Slowly, she raised a hand to her cheek as she opened her eyes wide, looking right at her mother, more angry than she'd ever seen her in her life. She realized now, with this first hit, something she should have known the moment Catrina died.

This woman didn't love her anymore.

"You ruined this family!" Her mother had no qualms about hitting her again. Catching Clementine by surprise, she shoved her, pushing the girl up against the wall. Her mother did not take any more steps forward, and instead continued to yell and sob, berating her daughter again and again.

She had always been sorry Catrina had died. She missed her sister, and she'd never in a million years have wanted her to die. She had been sorry in the same way her father had been, the family friends had been, the neighbors had been. But for the first time, she felt... sorrow. As if she'd done something wrong. Something to deserve what her mother had just done.

Maybe her mother was insane. But Clementine still loved her. She couldn't help it.

And because of it, she felt really, truly sorry.

— ◒ —

She couldn't find Kate. Instead of continuing her fruitless search, she went back down to the hatch, where Sun was keeping an eye on Sawyer. Instead of going back in to see him, which was much too painful for her right now, she decided she'd sit on the couch, maybe pick up a book from the shelf. John and Eko were in the computer room, so she picked out Hamlet. Clementine had never read an ounce of Shakespeare, but it was the first thing she saw.

She didn't get to read much of the dumbfounding language before she heard someone stepping into the room— she thought it was Sun, maybe coming to tell her Sawyer was waking up. When she looked up, however, she found a freckled brunette standing by the hall, looking down at her hands as she played with her nails.

"Kate," Clementine said, putting the book down on the table.

"I was hoping you'd be here," she said. "I'm..." She looked up at her. "I'm sorry. I said it to Jack already, but I felt like I owed it to you. I know how much you worry about him, and I wasn't making your life any easier."

They simply looked at each other for a few moments. "I just want to know why, Kate," she said. "What happened?"

"I..." She looked down again, then swallowed.

"I know you didn't tell Jack," Clem began, standing. "I get it. He can be hard to talk to sometimes, what with his stoic happiness and can-do attitude." Kate chuckled weakly. "But you and me? I mean..." Clementine shrugged. "I don't know why we never got close in the past weeks, but for that I'm sorry. But I think we should be able to trust each other. Right?"

Kate took a breath, looking back up at Clementine. She waited for a second, then finally spoke, playing with her hands all the while. "I was in there, just talking to him," she began. "He was mumbling, so I went closer, and then he just... he just grabbed my neck and... and started yelling at me. When I finally got away, I just... I had to get out of there."

Clementine furrowed her brows. "He grabbed you? But he... I don't understand. He's— What did he say?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got time."

Kate took a deep breath, shaking her head. "You're gonna think I'm crazy."

"After all this?" Clementine said, gesturing vaguely. "I don't think anything's crazy. Trust me."

"No one knows this," she said. "Not even Jack."

Clementine took a few steps closer and gave her a nod, as if to say, 'your secret is safe with me.'

"When I..." Another breath. "After my mom and dad divorced, she married another man," Kate began. "He was this horrible guy, a drunk, and he used to beat her all the time, but no matter what, she still loved him. In time, I just... She..." Kate looked up at Clementine. "I couldn't take it anymore," she said. "I couldn't. So one night, when he came home from the bar, I just... I brought him inside, put him in bed, and set the house on fire." Kate inhaled. "When Sawyer woke up, he was yelling at me. God, he sounded just like him," she added, mostly to herself. "He asked me why I killed him. It was him," she said. "It was Wayne."

"Wayne," Clementine repeated. "The man that married your mother?"

"I just..." Kate shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe I am going crazy."

"No," Clementine said. "Every single thing on this island... something is there, reminding me of things I'd rather forget. It's all some kind of horrible ghost of the past."

"Yeah," said Kate with a nod.

"The fire," Clementine said. "Is that what you're... wanted for?"

Kate nodded again.

"Well," Clementine said. "If ghosts are real, this is the place for them," she said. "I think you should try and talk to him. Y'know, see if he's..." Clementine trailed off, not really sure how to describe it. Haunted, maybe? Possessed? This was incredibly odd. But there wasn't a lot she wouldn't believe anymore.

"Okay," said Kate.  "Stay close," she told her friend. They walked out of the computer room and into the bedroom together. Sun looked up at them from her chair, a slight smile on her face.  "We've come to relieve you of your duties," said Clem with a smile, leaning in the doorway. "You're free."

"Thank you," said Sun, standing. "Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

Clem nodded.

"Hey, Sun," said Kate, stepping further into the room. "Did he... say anything?"

"Sawyer?" she asked. "No," she said, a bit confused. "He's still sleeping."

Kate nodded. "Right. Thanks."

With one last smile to the both of them, Sun was gone. Kate breathed out, taking a seat in the chair beside him. Then she looked at Clementine. "You okay?" she asked her.

"Yeah," Kate replied. "Thank you."

Clementine nodded, then left the room.

She went back into the living room to continue with her book, but it was only minutes before she heard Kate call her name. She didn't sound panicked, but even from afar, Clem could hear that she'd been crying a little.  Clementine rushed into the room, and the moment she stepped in the door, Sawyer's head turned to her, his eyes open and finally alert. "Clementine," he said, his voice weak and raspy. He looked back at Kate. "Are we saved?" he asked.

Clementine looked down.

"No, Sawyer," Kate said softly. "Not yet." She glanced up at Clem as Sawyer looked away disappointedly.

He then looked back at Clementine. "I got your letter," he said to her.

Clem tilted her head, taking a few steps closer. "My... you did?"

He smiled weakly. "Yeah," he said.

"Letter?" Kate asked, looking at Clem.

"Yeah," she said, playing with her fingers. She looked at Kate and sucked her teeth.

"Got it," Kate said. "I'm gonna go find Jack, okay?" She stood, then walked up and put a hand on Clem's shoulder. "Thank you," she said, quiet enough so that only she could hear. The two of them smiled at each other, then Kate walked out of the room.

"So," Clementine said, taking a seat on the chair beside him. "The letter."

"Real nice sentiment," he said. "It's too bad we did see each other again, or it would have meant a little something."

Clementine rolled her eyes, smiling. Sawyer picked his head up, placing his arms behind him as he pushed himself upward.  She helped him sit up a little, and placed his pillow behind him— his strength wasn't completely back yet.

"I did what you asked," he said.

Clementine furrowed her brows. "Did what?"

"I brought you a souvenir." His voice was coming back a bit more.

Clem smiled at him. Honestly, she couldn't believe he even remembered. "Where is it?"

He nodded toward the dresser, where whatever was left of his tattered clothes were lying. "The front jeans pocket," he said. With another suspicious look at him, she stood up, then walked over. Sure enough, inside the front pocket of his jeans was something small. She picked it out and held it in her palm, looking down at it.

It was a small bullet, covered in dry blood.

She looked over at Sawyer, pinching the bullet between her thumb and pointer. "This?" she said.

He smiled and nodded, then glanced at his shoulder. "They didn't have a gift shop."

Clem chuckled. "How did you take it out?"

"My very own hands."

"You did not."

"Ask Michael if you don't believe me," he said, shrugging with only his good shoulder.

"You're insane."

"You like it?"

She sighed, smiling. "It's an interesting sentiment."

"I knew you would." They were quiet for a few seconds as Sawyer looked around the room he was in, and glanced outside the door at the couch and kitchen.  "You sure we ain't been rescued?" he said. "This could be on a real fancy cruise ship." He looked around the bedroom.

"I'm sure. This is the hatch," Clementine said.

"The hatch," he repeated, as if it sounded stupid. "You mean that bunker Dr. Do-Good was going on about? No way."

"Way," Clementine said. "Wanna get out of here?"

He looked at her, brows raised. His hair was much too long. "Why the hell not?" he said simply.

They got him dressed slowly and carefully.  He still couldn't carry his full weight, and would probably be resting for the next few days. Plus, Jack still had him on antibiotics for the next two weeks, and that could take a lot out of someone.  They put his button up over his shoulders and once he was ready, he slung his good arm over Clem's shoulder and they walked out of the room.

He looked around the hatch with awe as they walked past the laundry area, then into the kitchen. He chuckled upon seeing the gas stove littered with pots and pans, saying, "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Airlock's over this way," said Clementine.

He scoffed, and they looked at each other. Sawyer's brows were raised in disbelief. "Come on, admit it! We've been rescued."

"I wish I could," she said.

Slowly, they walked past the couch and the computer room, through the airlock, then up the stairs.  The door to the outside creaked when she opened it, and the hot air hit them like a wall. They stepped outside together, and Sawyer's amusement turned to disappointment. He sighed as they walked past vines and branches, Clem moving them out of his way. They stood there for a moment as Sawyer stared at the endless green jungle surrounding them, catching his breath.

"Son of a bitch," he said.

Clem walked him toward a fallen tree trunk. "Watch yourself, okay?" she said, looking down at the ground as he sighed. They stepped over a rock and she helped him down onto the log.

He sighed as he sat, saying, "I got it," as she helped him down. He groaned, holding his bad arm tight, then looked at Clementine, who was kneeling in front of him. "Home sweet home," he said boredly.

"Yeah," Clementine said, smiling a little. "Shouldn't've got your hopes up."

"I really thought you were yanking my chain," he said.

Clementine grinned at him. She really couldn't look past his stupid, messy, long hair.

"What do you keep smiling at?" he said to her.

"You need a haircut," she said.

He scoffed, looking away, then back at her. "Oh, really?"

Clem shrugged. "Just telling it like it is."

"Right," he said.

Clementine couldn't stop herself from smiling anymore.

Chapter Text

After one last night of rest and recuperation inside the hatch, Sawyer was allowed up and out, and he and Clementine took the long walk back to the beach. It was quiet there, and Michael and Jin were both happy to see Sawyer up and about. Jack told Clem she'd have to work with him once he was out of the sling, be a sort of physical therapist so he could get back to 100% as quick as possible.

Clementine was overjoyed he was back. He was like a bright sun in her life, especially after all the darkness she'd had while he was gone. Everyone around seemed to be sending Sawyer a smile, which was near unsettling for him. They were really just happy to see one of their own alive and well. Jin and Sun were happily reunited, their pointless fight from before he left a distant memory. Even Rose was reunited with her husband, Bernard, who had been stranded on the other side of the island, and they, too, were glad to be back together. It seemed that happiness had finally settled in on their little island.

Sawyer took a nice long shower in the hatch, and once they arrived at the beach, Clementine grabbed the scissors she'd smuggled out of the hatch and brought them over to Sawyer's tent. She grabbed a towel, as well, and held them both up to Sawyer with a smile on her face. He looked up from his book, smiling at her. "So you're a hairdresser now, huh?" he asked, folding his page and closing the book.

Clem shrugged. "I am now," she said. "Take a seat," she told him, pulling over a thick log from around one of the small fires.

"Hold on a second," he said, putting a hand up defensively. "There ain't no way I am lettin' you put those scissors near my hair. I can do it myself."

Clem scoffed, holding up the scissors. "You," she said, "cut your own hair with one hand? We might as well let the baby do it." Scissors in hand, she gestured vaguely toward Claire's tent.

"Have you ever cut hair before?" he said, still unsure.

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "I used to cut my own hair for years when I was—" She cut herself off, but still looked at him.

"When you was what?"

"It's not important," she said, shaking her head.

He tilted his head. "Well, now you gotta tell me."

"When I was homeless," she snapped. "Happy?"

Sawyer's brows were raised. "I didn't know," he said, glancing awkwardly from her to the ground.

"Well, now you do," she said, a little calmer. "Want to sit?" She gestured to the log.

He huffed. "Alright," he said. He walked over, exhaling as he slowly lowered himself down toward the log, then took a seat.  "All good?" Clem asked him, helping him take his shirt off of his left shoulder carefully. He nodded as she continued slowly, then once the sleeve was off, continued with the right, a little quicker this time. Once his shirt was off, she gingerly placed the towel over his shoulders.

"Hey, you finish the cigarettes?" he asked her.

"Nope," she said, combing through his hair with her fingers. "There's a few left."

"You think there's any in the hatch?" he turned to look at her, but she put her hands on the sides of his head and turned it back.

"Keep straight," she said. "And I checked. Nothing."

He sighed. "So whatever's left, that's it?"

"Yup," Clem said, bending down to see the end of his hair from a different level. It was just around his shoulders, but when she first met him, it only reached the nape of his neck, so she'd cut it just around there.

"Well, we better save 'em for a special occasion, then," he said.

She chuckled a little, raising the scissors. "Careful," Sawyer told her. She didn't reply, and instead started at the left side of his head, snipping a little bit off by the ear. The front of it was shorter than the rest, so she decided she'd try to do the same thing, taking the scissors diagonally downward.

"So," he said. "How'd you become homeless?"

"My mom kicked me out," she said simply, concentrating on his hair. It was surprisingly thick, and she noticed now that it was a light brown at the roots that faded into his dirty blond. She picked up a few strands, holding them between her fingers. "Is this natural?" she asked him.

He batted the hair out of her hand, looking at her with furrowed brows. "Is it natural?" he repeated. "Yes," he said. "Why in hell would I dye it?"

Clem shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you're self-conscious."

"It's natural," he said firmly.

"I believe you," she said, putting her hands up and smiling.

He scoffed, then put his head straight again. After a few more minutes of silence as Clementine snipped away at his hair, they saw Jack and Ana Lucia walking by, chitchatting as they strolled down the beach.

Sawyer smiled. "Looks like there's trouble in paradise," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Doc's been hanging around Señora Lulu quite a bit, you think?"

"So just cause he's talking to her, you think he and Kate are done?"

"I don't see anyone else talking to her," he said.

Clem exhaled through her nose. "Right," she said. "I don't think he'd swap Kate for her. He's a leader. She's their leader. He's just being nice." She cut the back of his hair a little shorter, then began straightening it out.

Sawyer chucked dryly. "Really," he said.

"I think someone's gonna make a move soon," she said.

"What, like you made a move?" he said.

Clem rolled her eyes. "Quiet," she said. "I could just cut your hair clean off, you know."

He huffed. "I still think you're wrong."

"Yeah?" she said. "I guess we'll see."

"Wanna make it interesting?"

She stopped cutting. "'Scuse me?"

"A bet. Five hundred bucks says the Doc and Ana Lulu got it going on."

"And if you lose?"

"I owe you 500 bucks," he said simply.

She chuckled. "You're on."

They shook on it.

For the first time in a while, Clementine felt true happiness. This hot, sunny day felt like bliss, and left a warm feeling in her stomach, a sort of cheerful she hadn't felt probably since she'd been with Harry. She almost felt bad. Shannon was gone. She wasn't here to enjoy all of this, listen to their conversations, smile knowingly at her and Sawyer. Even through all the joy, she missed her.

She continued his hair quietly for a little while, and other than the occasional turn of his head, he cooperated. Clementine was actually quite proud of herself for the job she was doing— this was much easier than cutting her own hair. After a little while, company joined them— Kate had come by to talk to Clem, but upon seeing her busy with Sawyer, she offered to come back later.

"It's okay," Clementine told her. "I can multitask. What's up?"

Kate glanced at him uneasily. "I wanted to talk to you," she said, her tone flat and slow. Clementine understood.

"He's okay," she said, putting a hand on Sawyer's shoulder. He inhaled sharply. "Oops," she said, taking the hand off his injured shoulder. "Sorry." She looked back at Kate.

"You sure?" Kate asked.

"If you don't want to, you don't have to," Clem said. "I'll be around."

"No," said Kate, shaking her head. "It's okay. I just needed someone to listen."

"What's the goss?" Sawyer asked.

Kate smiled a little, rolling her eyes. When she spoke, she looked only at Clementine. "Well, you know Jack and I, we're sort of... close," she said. Clem nodded. "Well, yesterday, when he found me out in the jungle, I sort of... freaked out on him. You know, yelling, thrashing, insulting, the works. I felt like I was going crazy," she chuckled. "And in all the chaos, I—" She bit her lip. "I kissed him."

Clem smiled. "You owe me 500 bucks," she said cockily to Sawyer. He rolled his eyes.

Kate raised her brows and crossed her arms. "You guys bet on me?"

"Sorry," Clem shrugged. "Not a lot to do around here.  But you kissed him.  A peck, or..."

"No," Kate said, shaking her head.  "Not a peck," she said with a scoff. "But afterward, I kind of... ran away."

Clem and Sawyer both made the same face, a collective, "yeesh."

"You kissed him and ran?" Sawyer asked. "I'm sure he appreciated that."

"Thanks for making me feel better," Kate said sarcastically.

"That's a lot," Clem said. "I mean, one minute you're yelling at him, the next, making out? He's probably insanely confused."

"He probably thinks you're crazy," Sawyer said. "Hell, I would." He had turned his head to look up at her.

"Not helping," Clementine said, turning his head back. "And stop moving."

"I just..." Kate sighed. "I don't really know what to do."

"I think he needs time," Clementine said. "Let things cool down." She snipped at Sawyer's hair, evening out the back and the sides.

"You think I should just give him space?" Kate asked.

Clem shrugged. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

"Does it, now?" Sawyer said, turning to look up at her.

"Quiet," she said, flicking his forehead. He turned back around, and she continued cutting.

"Thanks," Kate said, looking at Clementine.

"Yeah," she replied with a nod. "And if you talk to him, let me know."

Kate smiled and nodded, then walked away.

"You two starting a gossip circle?" Sawyer asked. Clementine was nearly finished— all she had to do now was even out the right side and make sure the two front pieces were the same length.

"Yep," she replied. "And you're not invited."

"Well, darn."

She moved the scissors to the side of his head, making vertical cuts so that everything wasn't so choppy.

"Little close to the ear, there, Sunshine," he said, trying to catch a glimpse at her. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Would you please turn your head?" she said, putting her hands on his temples and turning it for him.

"Why?" he said with a sigh. "You ain't got a clean enough shot at my neck? I can cut my own damn hair."

"Mhm," she said. "You know, you don't have to be like that all the time."

"Like what?" he said, as if he were waiting for a stupid answer.

"Cocky. Belligerent. Everyone loves you now."

"Bull pucky," he said.

"Yo, Sawyer," Someone called from down the beach. It was Hurley, holding a bag of freshly picked mangoes. Michael was accompanying him. "Glad you're back, man," Hurley finished.

Sawyer gave him an awkward smile as he walked away. "Yo yourself, Pillsbury," he muttered.

"You see?" Clem said.

"Hey, Clementine," Michael called, leaving Hurley's side and walking up to where she and Sawyer were. Clem stopped cutting and stood up straight. "Locke said you're on hatch duty later. I was wondering if, uh... you mind if I go instead?"

"You want my shift?" Clem asked, a little confused. She certainly wouldn't want to be down there for any longer than she had to. Then again, it was air conditioned.

"Helps me take my mind off things," Michael told her with a shrug. "Y'know?"

Clem smiled and nodded. She understood what he was feeling. "Sure. It's all yours," she said.

"Thanks. Appreciate it." He turned to go, but he stood there for a few moments. Slowly, Clem and Sawyer looked over at him, wondering why he was lingering. Michael looked at Sawyer. "Glad you're okay, man." Michael said.

"Yeah," said Sawyer.

Michael walked off, and Clementine grinned as she bent back down to finish off his hair.

"Don't even say it," Sawyer said, shaking his head.

Clem laughed. "I wasn't going to."

— ◒ —

"Alright, Kurt Cobain. You're all done."

He gave her a raised brow look that said, 'very funny.'

She went into his tent and grabbed a slightly cracked, small mirror he'd found in the plane. When she came out, Sawyer was standing. She handed it to him and he stared at his hair in the circular mirror. He flipped his head slightly, moving the shorter locks around. "So?" Clementine said, coming around front.

He lowered the mirror. "I think it's uneven."

Clementine opened her mouth in surprise, but was still smiling. "There's no way!" she said, picking up one of the shorter pieces from the front.

"It is! Don't you see this compared to this?" He gestured to both sides of his hair.

"That is so not true," she said, grabbing at his hair again. He took hold of her wrist and stuffed the mirror in it.

"Hold this."

"It looks perfectly fine!" she said, still chuckling.

"Look, see?" he said, extending both front pieces around his face. It looked even to Clementine.

"This took me an hour. There's no way."

Jack walked over, his backpack slung over his shoulder. "What do you think?" Clementine asked him, as he stopped and began taking out a small orange bottle. "You think it's even?"

"I think it looks good," said Jack, handing Sawyer two pills. "Stay hydrated, alright?" he told Sawyer. He then walked away.

"I told you," Clem said. "You could just say thank you, you know."

"Mhm."

"You're welcome."

Chapter Text

It was a brisk morning. The sun had only just risen, the sky still a dim blue as night slowly ran away from the day. Clementine sat on her own in her tent for a little while, just listening to the waves crash on the sand.

While there was a lot of happy reunions on the island in the past days, not everyone was in paradise. Jack and Kate weren't exactly talking, and he'd been spending more and more time with Ana Lucia. People had been warming up to her— she lived in a half-built tent past the edge of camp, but she'd had a few visitors lately. Jack and Kate weren't the only ones— Charlie and Claire were having it out, too. She'd kicked him out of their tent after finding a stash of heroin. It was oddly located in a Virgin Mary statue, which, when broken, revealed the small baggies of the drug.

Since she had free time after giving her shift over to Michael, Charlie had told her all about his adventures yesterday.  He and Eko had gone out to find that crashed plane that Locke and Boone had found. Charlie explained that Eko's brother was inside the plane, which had been smuggling drugs across countries.  They'd burned the plane and his brother's body inside.  When Clementine reported her bewilderment to him, he told her, "I'm just as confused as you are." It was quite the coincidence. That plane, which was already here when they crashed, just happened to have Eko's brother's body on it?

But, once again, there wasn't much she wouldn't believe nowadays.

After sitting with her thoughts for a little while, she walked over and found Sawyer sleeping in the airplane seat just outside his tent. It was still early, so she decided to give him a few more minutes before she took him down to the hatch to get his bandage changed. She ate a little breakfast— two bananas, and took one for Sawyer so he could eat on the walk through the jungle.

She walked up to him, still sound asleep, and smiled, then tossed the banana onto his chest. "Rise and shine," she said, as he began to stir.

He picked up the banana off his chest confusedly. "You just threw a banana at me?" he asked, looking at it.

She shrugged. "Couldn't find any rocks."

He scoffed, then looked up at her with that smile of his. "There's nicer ways to wake a man up, Sunshine."

She ignored him. "Come on, it's time to go get your bandages changed."

"Why can't you do it for me?"

She bent down as if he were a child, putting her hands on her knees. "'Cause I'm not your nurse," she said. "And Jack's got the bandages."  She stood back up, grabbing the banana from his hand. 

"Course he does," mumbled Sawyer. He sat upward with a groan, then looked up at Clementine, who, for once, towered over him. "Wanna give me a hand?" he asked, holding his good arm out.

She sighed in acceptance, then wrapped her fingers around his arm. He did the same, and they both pulled. Sawyer let go of her once he was standing, looking down upon her face. They were inches apart. "Thanks," he said, his voice low. He was smiling.

Clementine looked him up and down, then grinned. "Come on," she said, walking away. 

They made quick time on the walk to the hatch.  It got hotter as they walked through the jungle, the sun slowly rising above them.  The outside doors creaked when they were opened, and their footsteps echoed quietly through the hall as they walked downstairs. They walked through the airlock doors, but heard no sound, and no one was waiting for them.

"This place still creeps me out," Sawyer said.

"Yeah," Clem agreed. "Where is everybody?" They walked into the computer room, where Locke was supposed to be taking his shift— there were only 5 minutes left on the clock, and the alarm would start beeping very soon. "Jack? John?" she called.

"Maybe they went out for ice cream."

She heard a faint call. "In here!"

"Shh," she said to Sawyer, as he finished his statement. Then there was thumping coming from further into the living room.

"Hey!" another voice called. She and Sawyer walked into the main living area.

"Jack?" There was loud banging.

"In here! In the armory!" The alarm began to beep steadily.

Clem walked toward the armory, where the sound originated from. The door was closed and locked.

"Michael locked us in here," Jack explained.

"What'd he say?" Sawyer asked her.

"I'm gonna grab the button," Clem said.

"Hope you got the combo, Doc," she heard Sawyer call, looking down at the combination lock to the armory.  Clementine made her way back into the computer room, glancing up at the clock every time she typed. 4. 8. 15. 16. 23. 42. Execute.  The numbers flipped back into place. 108:00.

When Clem walked back into the living area, the armory door was open, and Jack was grabbing a rifle from off the wall. He walked out of the room with it, just as Sawyer asked, "Hey, what—" Sawyer looked at Locke. "What happened?"

"Michael went after Walt," Locke explained. Clementine stayed by the doorframe between the computer room and living area.

Sawyer sighed. "Went after Walt?" he said, in a sort of 'not again' tone.

"Held a gun on me, put us both in there," Jack explained, packing a bag, "and went after Walt."

Sawyer looked down for a moment, then turned around and walked back toward the armory. "What are you doing?" Clem asked, nodding from the side of the room. Sawyer grabbed a handgun and loaded the magazine.

"What does it look like?" he said. "I'm going with them." He nodded sideways at Locke.

"You're still on antibiotics," Jack protested.

Sawyer walked out of the armory, snapping the magazine into place. "It's a good thing I'm traveling with my doctor, then."

"He's not going to want to come back," Clementine said, walking toward the armory. Sawyer grabbed her arm, blocking her path.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm coming with you."

He shook his head. "No, you're not."

"Hey," said another voice. They all turned to see Kate walking down into the living area from the hall— she must have just arrived. Noticing the tension and the guns in the men's hands, she furrowed her brows. "What's going on?"

"Michael locked Jack and John up in the armory," Clementine said, gesturing that way. "He went after Walt. What are you doing here?"

"My shift was coming up," she said. "How long ago?" she asked Jack.

"Maybe 20 minutes."

"We can find his trail," she said. "Come on."  She turned around, walking back up toward the airlock, and they all followed her.  Clem did not bring a gun— she decided to listen to Sawyer, just this once. And if Kate decided she was going, Clem would have to take care of the button, anyway.

Out in the jungle, there were a few heavy bootprints leading away from the double doors. Locke examined them, kneeling down. "Well?" Jack asked.

"I can't tell you it's definitely Michael's, but it looks like his boot print," he said.

"There's one over here, too," Kate said.

"That sounds like a trail," John said, walking up to where she stood.

Kate walked around him toward Jack. "You got a gun for me?" she asked him.

"You're not coming," Jack said.

"'Scuse me?" she said, walking with him.

"You're not coming," he repeated, firmer. "Someone has to be here to take care of the button."

"So why should that person be me? I can track, carry a gun—"

Jack cut her off. "You're not coming," he said, his tone rising. "You're staying. Alright?"

Kate just looked at him.

Sawyer and Clementine glanced at each other as he cocked his gun. "Let's go," Jack said, walking past him. Clementine nodded to him, and with one last look at her, she was gone.

Kate exhaled through her nose, turning back around and stomping back toward the hatch. "Kate," Clementine said, just as she realized she was already through the doors.  Kate skipped down the stairs quickly, and Clem followed suit. "Kate," she said again. "What are you doing?"

She walked up toward the armory, taking a handgun from the shelf. "I'm going with them."

"You can't be serious. They told us to stay here."

"That doesn't make you feel inferior? Left out? Who are they to tell us what to do?" She loaded the magazine.

"They got it, Kate," Clementine said. "They don't need help."

"I'm going."

"Well, you're going to need to find someone to press the button."

Kate looked up at her, eyes thinned. "You're gonna do it."

"I have other things to do." She began walking away, stepping backwards slowly.

"I could just leave," Kate said. "You'd have to come down here sooner or later."

"You're not gonna let that happen, though, are you?" She was still walking away, fully turned around now.

"You're stalling," Kate said, loud so Clem could hear from the hall.

"As best I can," Clementine replied. "See you later. Don't die."

Kate sighed loudly. Clem heard a zipper and some stomping, and she closed the airlock door behind her, running up the stairs.  Once she got up to the jungle, she ran away from the beach towards a tree and just stood behind it for a while. When Kate wanted to do something, no one could stop her, as much as Jack might want to. She hid to make sure Kate couldn't use her as a replacement, and she knew Kate would cover for herself before leaving.

After calling Clementine's name a few times once she got out of the hatch, Kate began walking toward the beach, where she'd find her replacement. Once she was gone, Clem came out of her hiding spot. They'd be long gone by the time she actually set off, and maybe a long enough search might cause her to turn around and come back.

Clementine headed back to the beach the long way, emerging from the jungle near the edge of camp, where Ana Lucia had set up her home base.  Without a glance at her, she walked past. As she walked along the coast, she saw someone sitting up by the graveyard, on the sand near Shannon's grave. She knew exactly who it was.

"Hi, Sayid," she said softly, walking up to him. His hair was tied back and he had a tank top on. Sayid glanced at her, but did not reply.

She took a seat on the sand next to him, and they stayed there in silence together, staring at Shannon's name carved into the cross over her grave. Her necklace hung around it. The dog, Vincent, seemed to come here often too, as she saw paw prints in the sand surrounding the area. Just the thought of Shannon, gone much too soon, caused tears to well in Clem's eyes. She bit her lip, wiping them away.

"She loved you, you know," Clementine said, after a few minutes of silence. Sayid looked up at Clem, eyes wide with intrigue. "When she talked about you, she just..." Clem sighed happily. "Her eyes would just light up. No one else ever made her feel the way you do."

Sayid looked back down at her grave.

"She'd never had a good man like you in her life," Clementine continued. "You gave her everything she ever wanted. She was happy."

Sayid breathed out.

"I miss her," she said. "Every day."

"I know," Sayid said, finally speaking up. He did not look at Clementine. "You loved her just as much as I did."

"Yeah," Clem said. I guess I did, she thought. I did love her. No one in Clem's life had ever truly listened to her. But Shannon? Shannon did. She listened, she gave advice, she accepted advice... from her pampered and privileged exterior, you might not guess that. But Shannon was the first person on this island that felt real. For Clementine, at least.

"I saw Walt," Sayid said. "Just before she died."

Clementine looked at him. "I... you did?"

"I didn't believe her," Sayid said. "I made a mistake. Whether it was some sort of illusion, or if it was really him... he was there. This whole time, she was right, and I was too blind to see it."

"But you believed her in the end," Clementine said. "That's what mattered to her. She just wanted someone to believe in her. I know that now."

"I wish she were here," he said. "I wish she could see she was right."

"She knows," Clem said, putting an arm around Sayid's shoulders.

Finally, Sayid looked at her, his eyes glassy. "Thank you, Charlotte."

She smiled at him.

— ◒ —

Sawyer, Locke, Jack, and of course, Kate, came back in the morning unhappy, without Michael, and gunless.

They didn't find him. They didn't even seem to come close, and instead, ran into the Others deep inside the jungle. There were so many of them. Too many of them. Without protection, Kate was taken hostage, and the three men were made to give up all of their guns and turn back around, or they'd kill her.

Jack made the reluctant decision to follow their orders. They'd established a line in the jungle, and if they crossed it... things would get bad, real quick. Jack had called it "war." He told everyone where not to go, and they all gladly agreed, not wanting to start anything with the island's mysterious natives.

The day they came back was long and hot. Jack seemed more upset than ever at Kate for following them, and even though Clementine stayed behind when she was told to, she understood why Kate did it. She couldn't sit still and wait for them to get back for so long. She needed to be helping out, to be doing something. Yes, that was a feeling Clem knew quite well.

Claire and Charlie were still on edge after he hid the heroin from her. He hadn't had even a bit, but it was a breach of trust, and no matter how many times he tried to say sorry, or even just give her space, there seemed to be no hope of them making up. Claire was perfectly decent without him, and she had the occasional help from John, who, growing up in foster homes, knew how to care for a young child like Aaron. It felt finished, but Clem could tell Charlie didn't think so.

The next day, the weather was a little more friendly. There was a wonderful breeze, and the waves were rough and loud.  Everyone seemed content today, the tension from yesterday's news dying down. Sure, they were always on edge, but they really couldn't let that stuff bother them anymore.  It was just their reality now.

52 days on this damn island.  But at least she had Sawyer.

She and him were standing just outside his tent, and on Jack's orders, she was helping him exercise his arm, stretching it slow and steady. They went upward, then back down again, and he seemed to be getting his movement back. "Easy. That's good," she said, as he lowered it slowly down to his side, her keeping her hands underneath for slight support. "That's good. Okay, one more." He began to slowly lift it again.

"Uh, Sawyer," said another voice. It was Hurley, who was sitting nearby and roasting fish over a fire. "When you were over there across the island, how well did you get to know those Tailies?"

"Well enough. Why?" Sawyer replied.

"That Libby chick seems pretty cool," he said.

Libby was one of the four tail end survivors that had made it to their beach. She was tall, with messy blonde hair, and had soft eyes and a kind smile. She was older, maybe in her 30s like Clementine. She hadn't talked to her much, but she seemed nice. She saw her hanging out with Hurley yesterday, building her tent together between a few coconut trees. "I mean, is she?" Hurley finished.

Clementine and Sawyer both smiled at him as they continued the exercises, this time moving the arm across his body. "Whoa, you got a little love connection brewin' over there, Jabba?" Sawyer remarked.

"No, I'm just asking," said Hurley, his voice a little higher pitched than usual.

"I hear you asking," Sawyer said, brows raised.

"Forget it," Hurley said. He stood up and left the fire, taking his fish with him.

Clem looked over at him. "What's with you?" she asked, still smiling. "You're acting like you're in high school."

Sawyer simply scoffed. She went around behind him so they could do the rotational exercises, back and forth. Just as she put her arms around him, he looked out toward the tree line. "Well, what do we have here?" he said. Clem looked up, seeing Jack and Ana Lucia walking out of the jungle, talking intensely. She was smiling. "Looks like Ana Lucia's gettin' the 20 dollar tour. That's the third time I've seen them walking out of the jungle." Clementine just stared. "What d'you suppose they're doing out there?" he said, smirking.

She sighed, shaking her head. "You just do your exercises, Sawyer." She began moving his arm out in front of him.

"Mhm," he said.

"You're all up in other people's business, aren't you?"

"Other people's business is the best kind."

"Right," Clementine said. She guided his arm out behind him, as far as she could, until he inhaled sharply. She slowly guided it back.

"Oh, come on," he said. "You know people talk about us. That's all there is to do here. Talk."

"What, you think when people run out of subjects, they think about you?"

"I know you do."

Clementine rolled her eyes, sighing.

"I'm just saying," he said. "A little gossip doesn't hurt."

"Sure."

— ◒ —

Clementine woke up that night to the sound of a baby crying. "What are you doing?" someone said loudly, over the sound of the thrashing ocean. She blinked. It was pitch black out, and the only reason she could see anything were a few scattered fires. There was some other voices, then a shout, undoubtedly Claire. "Help!" she screamed sharply, running through the sand. "Someone took my baby!"

Clementine scrambled up. People were already surrounding her. "Aaron's gone!"

"It's okay!" said another, more distant voice— Hurley. "We're over here!"

Clementine ran with the crowd, led by Claire, and found Hurley and Charlie standing by the water, the latter's legs under the waves. Charlie was holding the baby, and he looked disoriented, and a little surprised, too. "Is he alright? Is he okay?" Claire yelled.

"I don't know what happened," said Charlie, wide eyed. "I'm sorry," he said, offering the baby back to her. She took him, glaring at Charlie. "It's okay, though," he said. "I had this dream—"

Claire slapped him, then with one last, rather disgusted look, she walked away. Charlie stared at her in shock.

Once the commotion was over, Clementine went back to sleep. But the next day, Charlie was even more persistent about the dreams he was having. Kate was hanging around Claire and the baby all day, but even she couldn't stop him from talking to her, going on about how the baby was in danger and how he had to be baptized. He sounded crazy, but he was determined to convince her.

After that, John Locke set up his stuff by her tent. He'd been very friendly toward Claire lately, and though Clem knew there was no ulterior motive behind his protectiveness toward her and the baby, she understood why Charlie might be having feelings of jealousy. He'd been in John's place, helping with the baby and giving her the breaks she needed, and now, John had that job. But it was no reason for Charlie to go crazy.

— ◒ —

If you thought that a night couldn't get any more interesting than a sleepwalking baby-stealer, you'd be wrong.

The next night, Clementine had another rude awakening, this time, Sayid's voice. "Fire!"

Clementine rose quickly. People were already running. "Fire!" Sayid yelled again. "Grab tools, containers for sand, anything you have," he instructed, panic still lacing his tone. "If we don't stop it now, it'll burn right through the camp."

In the brush not far away, the quickly spreading fire raged through the closest parts of the jungle. Sayid was right.  She gathered whatever containers she could find and ran toward it, scooping up as much sand as she could.

"We need to cut a fire break, right here!" Sayid said. "Form a bucket line."

"Some of you people down to the water," Locke said.  Clementine and a few others followed him there, bringing their now empty buckets— the first wave of sand they'd brought in had done close to nothing.

They ran back and forth, making sure the fire couldn't get any closer to the beach than it already was. With nearly the whole camp's help and a hell of a lot of running, the fire was out quickly— but their problems weren't over just yet. 

When the fire had finally died down, leaving the earth charred and the trees bare, they heard a baby's shrill cry from down the beach, echoing over the sounds of the thrashing waves. People chattered as they ran toward the noise— the whole camp seemed to be protective over Claire's child, but it seemed Charlie felt the most responsible for him.

Charlie was standing ankles deep in the ocean, crying baby in his arms.  John had his hand out toward him, and Claire was standing on his other side, her face pleading with him to just hand Aaron over.  Charlie held the baby closer as people surrounded the scene. "Eko, tell them!" Charlie said. "Tell them, Eko! Tell them what you told me! That the baby has to be baptized!"

Eko shook his head. "This is not the way," he said.

"Charlie," Locke said, gesturing to him. "Come on, give him to me."

"Who the hell are you, John?" Charlie yelled over the baby's cries. "Aaron's not your responsibility! Where were you when he was born? Where were you when he was taken?" He took a step closer. "You're not his father! You're not his family!"

"Neither are you, Charlie," John said. He was calm, but firm.

Charlie looked at Claire, who had tears in her eyes. She shook her head.

"I have to do this!" he said, voice breaking. "I—I need to! Claire, I'm not gonna hurt him!"

She looked at him for a moment. "You're hurting me, Charlie."

Charlie looked down at the baby, fear in his eyes. The panic he had seemed to slowly turn to sorrow as everything quieted and he just listened to Aaron's cries. Slowly, he stepped closer to Locke, placing the crying baby carefully in his arms.  Everyone watched as John then handed the baby over to his mother, where his cries began to dwindle.

"Claire," Charlie said, tears in his eyes as Claire was rushed away by Kate. "I'm sorry—"

John cut him off with a punch to the face. Then another, and another, and Charlie fell into the water, face bloodied and bruised. Everyone walked away as the waves crashed over him.

— ◒ —

For whatever it was worth, Charlie hadn't been using. But he'd been stockpiling the statues that had the heroin inside, which John found and took from him, then locked away in the armory. He'd changed the combination after they had to give it to Sawyer, and that was that. Charlie became an outsider. Claire didn't talk to him. No one did.

There wasn't any excuse for what he'd done, really. It didn't matter if he'd been having dreams, or whatever was going on inside that head of his— taking someone's baby, no matter if you feel responsible for it, couldn't be forgotten so easily. Everyone pretty much knew he'd started the fire as a distraction. He probably deserved the punch, even if Clementine still felt pity for him.

In the grand scheme of things, all this felt so... minor. Sure, they didn't work great together as a group sometimes. But they were strangers on a plane only 53 days ago. They were never meant to work together.  And at the end of each day, Clementine Roberts only had one true question.

Would they ever get off this damn island?

Chapter Text

"Morning, Sunshine."

Sawyer turned to her. "Ain't that my line, Lucy?"

She chuckled, then turned around, seeing Jack walking away from Sawyer's tent, going into the jungle. She'd come over because Sawyer had been glaring in his direction, but upon seeing her, his features had softened. "What'd he do?" she asked, turning back to face Sawyer. His hair was wet, and he wasn't wearing a shirt— only his jeans and a belt.

Sawyer huffed. "He took my painkillers. The ones that were mine from the start."

"The start?" Clem repeated.

"I found 'em in the plane," Sawyer said. "You know, before we moved to the suburbs." He gestured around to the camp. "When I was gone, someone took them. Put them in the hatch. So I took 'em back."

"And now Jack took them again."

"We have a winner."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, were you taking them?"

"Why d'you think I want 'em back so bad?" he said, gesturing to his shoulder.

"Well," she said with a shrug. "I'm sure one way or another you'll get them back."

"Hm," Sawyer said. He stepped inside his tent.

"I brought something for you," she said, continuing to wait for him outside. She watched him grab a flannel from the side, and slip it carefully over his shoulders.

"And what's that?" he asked curiously, buttoning the flannel as he walked out of the tent.

Clementine reached into her back pocket and pulled out a rolled up magazine from what looked like the 70s. The blonde woman on the front had a big, fancy hairstyle, and was smiling big. ELEGANT, read the title. "I know you're hard up for new reading material. I found it in the hatch." She held it out to him, and he took it, examining the front page and holding it far from his face. Clementine took a seat on his airplane chair just outside of the tent.

"Well, as much as I'd like to learn to 'feather my hair,'" he began, smiling at it, "I lost my damn glasses on the raft." Then he looked over at her. "You wanna read it to me?"

Clementine scrunched her brows.

"What, you got an appointment or something?" he said, tilting his head.

She laughed. "Okay," she said, reaching out her hand. He gave it over to her, and she opened it to the first article. Boy, would he get a kick out of this one. Sawyer took a seat as she began to read. "Alright. 'Ten Ways to Tell if He's a Sensitive Man.'"

Sawyer chuckled. "This oughta be good."

"Morning," a third voice greeted. John Locke walked past them with a smile, bringing a few fruits over to Claire's tent for breakfast.

"Hey, John," Clementine greeted. He continued his walk, and Clem looked back at Sawyer, who was smiling cockily.

"Now, there's a sensitive man," he said.

Clementine thinned her eyes at him. "Claire asked him to sleep down here," she said.

"Come on," Sawyer said. "Locke's got himself needs." He paused, looking Clementine up and down, still smiling. "Just like anyone else."

She smiled sarcastically. "Not everyone is like you, Sawyer."

"Guess that's why El Jacko and Ana Lulu didn't ask me to join their revolution."

Clem furrowed her brows.

"What? You didn't hear abut their little army?" Sawyer asked.

"Army?" repeated a voice from beside them. Kate walked up, stopping when she heard Sawyer's voice. They both looked up at her.

"What are you talking about?" Clem asked him, turning back to the blond.

"They're planning on starting a war," he said with a shrug. "Raising an army, going after the Others."

Kate and Clementine glanced at each other. "You didn't know?" Clementine asked her.

"No," said Kate. She looked down, then walked away.

Sawyer looked back at Clementine. "Guess I'm not the only one on the outs with the Doc."

— ◒ —

The rainstorms in this tropical climate were sudden, and you never knew if they would last 2 minutes or 2 hours. This one, fortunately, was a sun shower, so it was still bright outside when it began pouring. It soaked their magazine almost immediately. "Oh, man, it's really coming down!" Sawyer exclaimed, standing up and pulling Clementine under the tent.

They were close under the canopy of his tarp, their bodies inches apart and their hands intertwined. It could have been a wonderful moment if not for the distant screams they heard coming from the jungle. Whatever was left of their smiles faded. "What the hell?" Sawyer said.

Clementine knew that voice. "It's Sun," she said.

They left their cover and ran.

The screams had come from nearby her garden, but when they passed it, she wasn't there. It didn't take them long to find her, though— she'd been left lying in the mud among the tall trees and grasses, in a spot of sun sprinkled between the branches. Sawyer ran up to her soaked body and turned her over. She had a gash on her forehead, and blood running down her temple. Her hands were tied up with some kind of rope. Clementine moved her own wet hair out of her face and lowered her ear to Sun's lips, feeling a slight wind on her skin.

"Is she alright?" Sawyer asked loudly, over the sound of the storm.

"She's breathing," Clem said.

"Go get Jack," he said.  Clem looked up at him. "Go get Jack!" he repeated, putting his arms underneath Sun.

"Okay," she said, scrambling to stand up. Once her feet hit the ground, she just started running. "Jack!" she called, sprinting toward the beach. "Jack!" Louder. Sawyer would be bringing Sun back to the beach now.

It was still pouring.  Clem slipped over some mud, face down. Her clothes and body were dirty now, but she had to find him. "Jack!" she called again.  "Jack!"

"Hello?" she heard a voice call. His voice.  There was a rustling, and he was running toward her now. Ana Lucia was close behind him.

"Jack," she said, stopping her sprint once she saw him. She was panting. "Sun was attacked."

"What?"

"This way," she said, motioning him toward the beach. She was too out of breath to elaborate. 

When they reached the beach, Sawyer had just placed her into her tent, lying across a flattened airplane seat.  Jack and Clementine pushed through the slowly forming crowd around her.  He began his interrogation immediately. "Was she conscious at all?" Jack asked. Sawyer and Clem both shook their heads. "Did she say anything?"

"Not a word," Sawyer said.

Suddenly, Jin broke through the crowd, yelling something in Korean and kneeling over his wife. He tucked hair out of her face and held her arm. "She's okay," Jack said. Jin seemed to ask Jack something else. "She's gonna be alright.  You need to let me take care of her, alright? Please." Jin took a few steps back, allowing Jack space.

"How'd you find her?" Jack continued, examining Sun's injury.

"We heard her scream," Sawyer said, glancing at Clementine. Kate was standing nearby, too. "We found her out in the jungle about half a mile—"

"She was out cold and her hands were tied," Clementine added.

Jack looked at her, wide eyed. "What d'you mean her hands were tied?"

Clementine just shook her head.

"They're back," Ana Lucia announced, her face one among many. Everyone was looking at her.

— ◒ —

Even though it was overcast, and probably about to start pouring, Clementine kept her sunglasses on. No one here knew her face, or her name, or had any idea what she'd done throughout her life. She wasn't wanted, she'd never taken prints or a mugshot, and had never been arrested. No one was looking for her, and no one would find her.

Head down, Clementine bumped into someone, hard.  The interaction surprised her, interrupting her fast-moving train of thought.  Before she could even get a word out, she was pulled aside, tripping over her own feet as someone stronger than she was pulled her into a secluded alleyway between two buildings.  The streets of L.A. were bustling, and no one even seemed to notice.

Someone was looking for her.

"You shouldn't have come back here."

Clementine blinked, then took her sunglasses off.  "What the hell, Diana?" she said, pulling her arm out of her grasp. "What are you doing?"

"Did you quit, Clementine?"

Clementine furrowed her brows, just blinking.

"Did you quit?" Diana said, louder this time. It began to rain, a slight sprinkle that left dots on their clothes and jackets.

"I—" She breathed out. "Who told you that?"

"It doesn't matter," Diana said.  "Is it true or not?"

"Bose told you, didn't he?" she said, nodding to herself.

"It doesn't matter!" Diana said. Her voice faltered. "It is true, isn't it? You think you're better than this now?  Why'd you do it?"

She shook her head. "Diana, please."

"No," she said.  "I deserve answers. I thought we were friends.  You didn't tell me. You haven't been talking to me. I haven't seen you in months. What the hell is going on with you, Clementine? Where have you been?"

"I..." She sighed. "I met this guy."

"Oh, God," Diana said. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I've been with him. Every moment I have, I spend with him. I couldn't do it anymore, Diana.  I see a future with him.  I want him."

Diana scoffed. The rain was coming down a little harder now. "No, you don't," she said. "You don't want him. You want the idea of him.  He's the one, huh? He's that Mr. Perfect you've been looking for?"

"Diana—"

"You don't get it," Diana said. "You can't just leave this life behind.  You can't quit, you can't pretend it didn't happen, and you can't forget about it.  You and I? We're killers. There's no changing that."

"I want to stop," Clementine said. "I'm going to stop."

"Doesn't matter," Diana said, shaking her head. "Never will. People don't change."

Clem shook her head. "I don't believe you."

Diana inhaled. "You love him?" she asked. "This guy?"

"I..." Clementine thought. "I think so."

Diana chuckled, then shook her head. "Right," she said. "Whoever this Mr. Perfect is, you don't love him, okay? You don't want him.  You can believe me, not believe me, I don't care. But don't try to fool yourself. I care about you, okay?"

"I'm not fooling myself," Clementine said. "I want him. I want to be with him."

"You'll come back," Diana said.

"I'm not coming back. I'm not a killer anymore."

"What are you, then? A housewife? Loving girlfriend? Good person? You're a killer and a criminal.  You cannot ever change that."

"You're just angry," Clementine said, thinning her eyes at the woman who she thought was her friend. "You're just upset that you're not brave enough to do it. That you'll never be able to find someone that makes you feel like you can actually quit."

Diana grit her teeth.

"You don't know me," Clem said. "You can't understand me.  People change. I can change. I don't think you'll ever change, though.  You'll always be a killer."

"Don't call me," Diana said. "I don't want to see you again."

Clementine began backing away, out of the alley the way she'd come. "Best of luck, Diana."

Her former friend simply glared at her.

— ◒ —

The rain slowed to a stop, and a group of them stood close by Sun's tent. The crowd had dispersed, but Jin stayed right by her side. She still hadn't woken up, but Jack had patched up her head. Jack, Kate, Locke, Sawyer, Clementine and Ana Lucia discussed what the next move was. The mist still hung in the air, weighing down their already soaked hair and clothes.

"They told us they would leave us alone," said Locke. That's what Jack had told them— as long as they didn't cross the line, or provoke the Others, then the Others wouldn't touch them.

"Well, John, it looks like they broke their promise," Jack said.

"We don't even know what happened," Locke said.

"Do we need to know?" Jack said.  These two were always on edge (as usual). They were both good people and good leaders, but they had very different methods and ways of running things.

Locke tilted his head and furrowed his brows.

"Where'd you find her?" Ana Lucia asked.

"Just outside her garden," Clem replied, glancing toward the jungle.

Ana Lucia turned to Jack. "We should take a look around. With guns," she added.

"No," said John.

Everyone looked at him.

"No?" Jack repeated.

"We arm up, we're just as likely to shoot each other as we are one of them." He was right. Clementine held back a glance at Ana Lucia.

Jack looked down, then sighed. "Okay," he said. "We'll wait for Sun to wake up. She'll tell us what happened." Locke nodded. "Then we're gonna do something about it," Jack finished. He walked toward the place where Sun was resting.

"Sounds like a plan," John said.  The group then dispersed.

"I'm gonna try and find a trail," Kate said, just after Ana Lucia had walked off.  Only she, Clem, and Sawyer were left standing there. "See if they left anything behind."

Clem nodded. "Take him with you," she said, putting a hand on Sawyer's shoulder.

"Me?" he said, turning to Clem. "Why don't you go?"

"Just in case something happens," Clementine said. "I'm going to go take a nap."

"I don't need protection," Kate said to Clementine.

Clementine gave her a look. "They got you last time," it told her. "Just take him," she said.

Kate sighed, then nodded toward the jungle, and turned around. Clementine gave Sawyer a look that said, "Go ahead." He sighed, rolling his eyes, but walked off after Kate, who was already halfway toward the tree line.

Clementine then went back to her tent, the inside of which was totally soaked, laid down on the wet towel, and closed her eyes. The running and the panic had exhausted her, and all the sleep she wasn't getting on this damn island really wasn't helping.

However tired she was, she only slept about an hour before she began to stir, slowly blinking awake. The weather had become dry, and it didn't look like it would rain again for a while. People seemed to be cooking fish over fires, eating fruits, and whatever was left of the food Hurley had brought from the hatch. Lunch, Clementine thought.

After a stretch, Clem decided to venture into the jungle, maybe grab a papaya or two from the nearby fruit trees before heading back to the beach and looking for Sawyer. When she walked past her tent, Sun was still out, Jin sitting next to her and watching her chest rise and fall. She walked into the dense jungle, stepping over flora and fauna. The sounds of the beach were only just out of reach when she started hearing more voices— these closer, lower. Clementine stopped in her tracks.

She couldn't hear exactly what this person was saying, but she knew his voice anywhere. A little confused, she quietly went closer, staying concealed behind a tree trunk and a set of vines. She only got a glimpse, but she saw two people— one most definitely Sawyer, and only the back of another, hooded figure. She stood still and listened.

"You're absolutely sure no one saw you?" Sawyer said. "Not even her?"

"I'm sure," the second person said firmly. Another familiar voice, with a British accent. "I still don't understand, though. How is this going to get back at Locke?"

"In time, Mick Jagger," Sawyer said. "You just keep doing what you were doing."

"What?" said Charlie. "Being an outsider?"

"Not getting involved," Sawyer corrected.

"No one can know," Charlie said. "No one can know what I did to Sun."

"No one's gonna know."

Clementine moved, and though she hadn't meant to be loud, her weight shifted, and she crunched a dried leaf.

"What was that?" Charlie asked, whipping his head around. She could see his face clearly now, but she quickly turned, hoping to get away. Maybe they'd think it was an animal. Should she run? Hide? She didn't even have time to consider before she felt someone grasp her arm and pull her backward.

Sawyer turned her around, glaring at her. She tried to pull away, but his grip was tight. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same question."

"How much did you hear?" asked Charlie. She'd never seen him angry.

"I heard enough," she said, trying to pull away again. "Let go of me, Sawyer."

He did not.

"It was you," she said, looking at him. "You did this."

"Doesn't matter what I did," Sawyer said, his voice low and commanding. "You're gonna keep your mouth shut."

She scowled at him. "And why the hell would I do that?"

"Because you owe me."

She breathed. "You're disgusting. Why would you do that?" She looked at Charlie, then back at Sawyer. "Why would you ever rope him into your stupid, sick games?"

"This ain't no game, sweetheart," he said, finally letting go. "This is war."

She crossed her arms.

"You're not gonna tell anyone," he said, looking up at her through furrowed brows. They were still standing inches apart. "I need your word."

Clementine glared at him.

"Your word, Clementine," he said, reaching out to grab her again, but she moved away.

"Don't touch me," she said. Then she sighed. "You have my word."

"Good," he said. "You were never here."

With one last look at them, she left, walking out of the jungle. She didn't even remember what she'd come for anymore.

"You really think she'll stay quiet?" she heard Charlie say.

Clementine could almost feel Sawyer's eyes burning a hole in her back. "Yeah," he said, in that very same tone he'd talked to her in. "I do."

How? Clementine thought. And why? It didn't make any sense. And roping Charlie into all this? He was the one who'd attacked Sun— that was why it was all off. The Others hadn't broken a promise. That was why Sun had gotten away, why she'd still been alive, why everything was askew. Something was wrong, and it was Sawyer. He'd planned it all.

Changes were coming. Big changes. And Clementine couldn't say a word.

In an ideal world, where she was this brave, good, and righteous person, she'd go to Jack. Or Locke. Or Kate. Or anyone who could take action, who she could team up with and get the truth out of Sawyer. In an ideal world, this plan wouldn't end well for him, he wouldn't get what he wanted, and Clementine would be the foil to his every plan. In an ideal world, she'd hate Sawyer for even thinking of doing something like this, and she'd never speak to him or feel anything for him again.

This was not an ideal world. This was an insane, dangerous, and secluded island, where there were no rules or laws, and no one could tell you what to do. No matter how much Jack, John, or anyone else acted as the group's leader, they were not in charge of her.

And she really, truly felt like she owed him. So she stayed quiet.

She thought about going down to the hatch, but she knew Locke was down there on his shift, and she really couldn't be around anyone right now. So she sat by a fire she'd made for herself near the tree line and watched it all unfold. Sun had woken up, and Jin was yelling, conversing with her, then yelling at Jack. He asked for a gun, but Jack talked him out of it, saying something about "doing this together."

Still, people wanted to do something. Everyone was bustling around Sun's tent, and Sawyer sat just outside of the commotion down the beach. He was talking to Kate, who looked panicked. Clementine squinted, trying to get a better look. They chatted for another minute, then Sawyer got up and headed out into the jungle on the path toward the hatch.

Everyone on the beach seemed set on this idea of going after the Others. Surely, Jack wasn't angry enough to start handing out guns, right?

Only about ten minutes after she saw Sawyer leave, Jack and Jin set out on that very same path toward the hatch. It was getting dark now. Sun had recovered quickly, though her forehead might be bruised for a while. Energy was high, and the people seemed restless. Clementine was, too, but for very different reasons.

She didn't know what his plan was, and she really didn't want to. Charlie walked past her at some point as she nudged the fire in front of her, giving her a wary look. She kept her expression blank.

Too busy with frantic plans, guns, Others, and attacks, no one paid any mind to Clem. It was easier that way, though. She might have involved herself in it all if she wasn't afraid of letting something slip. But however much she wanted to be left alone, it seemed someone else had other plans. 

Libby sat down right next to her.  Clementine glanced at her, a little confused. "Hi, Clementine," she said.

"Hi," Clementine said, a little awkwardly.

"I noticed you're not getting involved in all the excitement," she said, looking out at the people on the beach.

"I'm not really an excitement kind of girl," Clementine explained.

"Hm," Libby said with a nod. "So what do you think?"

"What do I think of what?" Clem said, turning to her.

Libby shrugged. "Of all this," she said. "You think they should go out there with the guns?"

"I don't know," said Clementine. "I think they're moving too fast. I think Jack needs to step back and think."

"I've noticed Jack doesn't do a lot of that," Libby said.

"Yeah," said Clementine. "He's more of a doer. It's worked for him this far, though. I just think this is the time to let Locke or Sayid handle things."

Libby nodded. "But John and Jack tend to butt heads."

"Yeah," Clementine said. "And Sayid really isn't in the condition to take charge right now."

"And you?" she asked. "What condition are you in?"

Clementine chuckled a little. "What are you doing, Libby?"

"We never really talked," she said. "And I figured you needed company. You've been sitting here all alone."

"I like being alone."

Libby looked at her for a moment, tilting her head. "No, you don't," she said.

Clementine closed her eyes, then breathed. When she opened them again, she looked down. "And how would you know that?"

"I'm good at reading people," Libby said.

Clementine looked over at her. "Were you some kind of shrink or something?" she asked. "'Cause it sure feels like it."

Libby chuckled a little. "Clinical psychologist," she said.

"There you go," Clem said with a nod.

"What about you?" Libby asked. "Back in the real world."

"The real world," she repeated, chuckling weakly. Was this not real? Was this so out of the ordinary, so absurd that it couldn't be real? "I was a secretary," she said. "For an accountant's office."

"Sounds exciting."

"Yeah," Clementine said. "It was a new adventure every day."

Libby laughed a little.

"Thank you, Libby."

She smiled. "Yeah," she said, giving her a nod that said, 'anytime.'

— ◒ —

Night fell upon them, and only after it was pitch black outside did Jack and Jin finally come out of the jungle, storming onto the beach. But she didn't see Sawyer.

"John," he called. "Where are they?"

Locke stayed seated around the fire. People began to gather as Jack raised his volume. "We had an agreement!" he yelled.

"An agreement that you were about to violate, Jack," he replied, looking up at him. Finally, he stood, facing Jack at eye level. "Yes, I moved the guns."

"Where?" Jack asked. No answer. "Where? Where, John?" His voice was low and steady.

"Are you gonna start handing them out?" John replied, matching his tone. Clementine hadn't ever heard him raise his voice. "How many? Who gets them? How much time before there's an accident? Another accident?" He looked around at the circle of people that was slowly forming. "I made a mistake teaching Michael how to shoot, and now he's... He could be dead for all I know, and that— that was my fault. I take responsibility for that, so, yes, I'm taking responsibility for the guns, too."

"I want two guns, John."

"That's the way—"

"Two guns."

"—it's gonna be, Jack."

"Tell me where they are right now!"

Then there was a gunshot. And another. Then two more, quick and steady.

People gasped, and Clementine stood up quickly from reflexes alone. Everyone's heads turned, searching in the dark from where the shots had originated. Clementine didn't need any light to know who it was. So this was the plan.

Sawyer walked out of the jungle holding a rifle in his hand, a determined look on his face. "You gave him the guns?" Jack said to Locke.

Locke stared at Sawyer, eyes wide. "No," he said. "I hid them."

"That's right, Jack!" Sawyer called. "He's as stupid as you are." He walked up toward the big fire, the orange flames lighting his face. Clem took a few steps closer. "You were so busy worrying about each other you never even saw me coming, did you?" God, that smile.

He looked around at the crowd of survivors. "Well, how 'bout you listen up? 'Cause I'm only gonna say this once." He passed the rifle to his other hand, holding it with his arms crossed. "You took my stuff," he began. "While I was off tryin' to get us help, get us rescued, you found my stash, and you took it. Divvied it up. My shaving cream, my batteries... even my beer." He looked at Clementine for a moment. "And then something else happened," he continued. "You decided these two boys here were gonna tell you what to do and when to do it." He looked at Jack and John. "Well, I'm done taking orders.

"And I don't want my stuff back. Shaving cream don't matter. Batteries don't matter. Only thing that matters now..." He held up the rifle. "... are guns. And if you want one, you're gonna have to come to me to get it!" He looked right at Sayid. "You wanna torture me, don't you? Show everybody how civilized you are!" He opened his arms. "Go ahead. But I'll die before I give them back. And then you'll really be screwed, won't you?"

He looked around at them all for another moment, then balanced the rifle over his shoulder. "There's a new sheriff in town, boys!" he announced. "Y'all best get used to it."

Then he walked away.

Defeat wasn't an unfamiliar feeling for the survivors of Oceanic flight 815. But never once had it been like this— one of their own taking it all, screwing them over, taking forcible charge. And Clementine was the only one who knew, who could have stopped it, who could have done something about it. But she didn't. She couldn't. This defeat was discouraging, but for some reason, Clementine felt a little... victorious. Was it selfish? Probably.

"Why?"

When she walked up to his tent, arms crossed, he was cleaning the rifle with a piece of the towel, sitting on his chair. There was already a smile on his face, but when he saw her, it seemed to grow, a sort of cocky upturn of his lips.

"Why what?" he said.

She sighed, shaking her head. "I don't even know what to say to you right now," she said.

"I should be saying the same thing to you," he said, standing up. He placed the rifle just inside the tent, near the chair he'd been sitting on. "You knew, and you didn't tell anyone. I really thought you were gonna be the hitch in my plan."

She exhaled from her nose. "Yeah, well," she began, pausing, "I didn't know what you'd do if I said something."

"Oh, please," he said. "You and I both know you're not afraid of me."

"Alright, fine," she huffed. "That wasn't it. So what?"

"You really have me stumped, Miss Sunshine." He took a step closer to her. It was dark, and she could only just see the right side of his face from one of the fires nearby. The light flickered, and at the nickname, she couldn't help but smile a little at him.

She gave him a look, but he still didn't seem to get it."You are so stupid," she said.

He was confused for a moment, brows furrowed. But when the fire beside them roared a little further to life and he could finally see more of her face and notice the look in her eyes, his expression softened, then turned into that smirk of his. Instead of speaking, they walked closer to each other, stepping a little further into the tent. Clementine uncrossed her arms, staring up at his face.

Neither of them said anything. Sawyer was a good head taller than she was, and as he walked closer, she continued to stare into his eyes. Finally, they were body-to-body, and Sawyer put his hand under her chin, then tilted her head up, leaning down to kiss her. The scruff on his face scratched her chin, but the kiss was soft, long, and God, did he leave her wanting more. He pulled away, the smirk still on his face.

"Me?" he said in fake surprise, as they came apart. "You did it for little ol' me?" His arms were still wrapped around her.

Clementine shook her head. "Be quiet," she said, bringing her lips back onto his. It was like that kiss they'd shared oh-so long ago, except this one was more perfect, more beautiful than the last. As they turned, Sawyer reached behind her, untying the knots that kept the tent flaps opened. They were secluded now, a thin fabric wall away from the rest of society.

"Anyone else would have hated you, you know," Clem said between kisses.

"It's a good thing you don't hate me, then, Sunshine." His arms were tight around her waist, but he knew exactly how firmly he could grab her, exactly how close she wanted their bodies to be. The kiss was a wonderful dance, lips locked together as if they were always meant to be this way. As if it was always meant to be just them.

Clementine hummed, smiling as she moved her hands from his shoulders down to his shirt, where she began unbuttoning things. It was dark, and they could barely see, but it didn't matter. Sawyer smiled into their kiss, then helped her out, their lips only coming apart for a second so he could slip her shirt over her head. She kicked her shoes off as she ran her hands down his chest, and he did the same. Soon, their clothes were scattered on the floor.

When there was nothing left but undergarments, Clem's knees seemed to know exactly what to do, buckling underneath her. Sawyer followed suit, his hands making their way down to exactly where she wanted them to be.

It was dark. The waves crashed in the distance and many a fire burned just outside. Everyone had probably seen Clementine walk in, and no one had seen her walk out. But she didn't really care.

— ◒ —

Nathaniel Bose never said hello when he picked up the phone, but Charlotte was used to that.

"I really didn't think you'd call, Charlotte. If I remember correctly, I thought you were done?"

"I changed my mind," she said simply. "I want a job."

"And what about your boyfriend?" Bose asked. "What does he think of all this?"

"He doesn't know," Clementine said. "And he's not going to."

She heard Bose chuckle. "Sounds good to me," he said. "Come to my place. I'll find you an errand to run."

"Okay," she said. She was about to hang up when she heard her name spoken again.

"Charlotte?" he said, as if checking if she was still on the other end.

"Yes?" she said, putting the phone back up to her ear.

"I want to know," he said, "what made you change your mind?"

Clementine breathed. "This is what I do," she said simply. "I'm a killer. There's no changing that."

She could almost hear the smile in his voice. "See you tomorrow."

And she did. But even after she started working again, it took her much longer to break apart with Harry than it ever should have. Clementine regretted ever going on that first date with him. She regretted looking at him. She regretted coming to Australia at all, ever. But none of that mattered, because she couldn't change any of that. This was real life. And until her life was no longer real, she would never be allowed to have what she wanted.

She'd never deserve it. Because Clementine Roberts was sure that she was not, and never would be, a good person.

Chapter Text

That night, Clementine experienced the best sleep she'd had since their plane crashed.

Sawyer's tent was about three times the size of her dinky little one, and was actually closed off from the rest of the camp so that no one could see inside. It wasn't cramped like her sad excuse for a living space was, and somehow he'd patted the sand perfectly flat underneath where the towels were laid for his bed.

His body was warm against hers. They'd put most of their clothes back on late last night, but their shoes were still off and his shirt was unbuttoned. Their hair was unkempt and messy, and Clementine woke up as he began to shift, moving his arms from her chest down to her waist. He breathed, then moved again. She tried to go back to sleep, blinking her eyes back to shut, but once again, James changed his position, putting the pillow he had from first class over his head.

With a sigh, she turned to face him. "You gonna keep moving?" she said groggily. "Or can I go to sleep now?"

"You don't hear that?" Sawyer said.

Clementine listened for a moment. Nothing but the waves and the sounds of the jungle nearby. Then, quietly, a croak far in the distance.

"What, the frog?" she said.

"Yeah," he said.

She exhaled. "Go back to sleep, James."

"I have to find it," he said, sitting up. "You gonna help me?"

"I'm gonna sleep," she said. "Good luck."

Sawyer put his shoes on, buttoned his shirt, and left. She laughed a little to herself, then tried to go back to sleep, but the sounds of the camp and the sun in her eyes kept her awake. The circadian rhythm she'd developed over the past 2 months was telling her it was time to start her day, so she got up and did so. After slipping on her shoes, she walked out of the tent.

As she walked toward the fruit stores, she knew there were eyes on her from every direction. She glanced around, but tried not to look unnerved. Of course they knew she'd slept with him— it wasn't any kind of secret. She'd walked in and didn't come out til morning, tent doors closed.

Instead of paying anyone any mind, snapping at them like Sawyer would have done, or making faces back, she simply went about her task. She picked up a mango and used one of the knives to cut it open, then headed down toward the water. She sat by one of the rocky parts of the shore, watching Jin and Bernard fish in the shallow water.

After about 10 minutes of leaving her to herself, Kate came by, taking a seat right up next to her. Clementine glanced at her, but didn't say anything, and instead continued to occupy herself with the mango. She had accidentally chosen one that wasn't completely ripe, but it didn't really matter at this point. It tasted well enough, anyway.

"Everyone knows, you know," Kate said, after about 2 minutes of silence between them.

"Yeah," Clementine said. "I know."

"I don't understand," Kate said, looking over at the brunette. Clem did not look back. "Why?"

"I don't know," said Clementine. "I just know what I feel."

"And after all that?" she said. "He conned us, Clem. He conned all of us."

"I know he did," Clementine said, looking over at Kate. "I don't care. There's no rules here, Kate. No one can tell us what we can and can't do."

"You really don't care?" Kate said. "At least tell me he told you where the guns are."

"He didn't," she said. "And I wouldn't make him tell me."

"He doesn't care about anyone," she said. "You're giving him what he wants."

"And what if he's what I want?"

Kate exhaled. "I just want you to do the right thing."

"And what do you think that is?"

Kate stood. "I think you need to decide that for yourself."

"Thanks for the talk," Clem said dryly.

Kate simply sighed, then walked off.

— ◒ —

She didn't see Sawyer for another 3 hours after that.  Honestly, the noise hadn't even been that much of a nuisance, but Sawyer tended to create vendettas against animals simply as a hobby. She couldn't hear it anymore, but it was barely audible in the first place. She saw him coming out of the jungle with Hurley not far behind him. He looked happy, but Hurley, not as much.

Sawyer paused, scanning the beach, then smiled when he saw Clementine standing with her feet in the water as the waves pulled back and forth. "Hey, Miss Sunshine," he said.

"Hi," she said. She peered around him, glancing at Hurley. "What'd you do to him?" she asked, looking back at him.

Sawyer glanced behind himself to see what she was looking at. "Hurley?" he asked. "He's just upset about the frog."

"You killed it?" she asked.

"You surprised?"

"I don't know, I thought you would move it or something. Throw it far away or let it go like you did with the boar that one time."

"Well, this one wouldn't stop annoying me."

She chuckled. "I really don't think it was that big a deal."

Sawyer shrugged. "So, what'd you get up to? Other than standing around doing nothing, o' course."

She rolled her eyes. "Not much else," she said. "I ate a mango."

He raised his brows. "Thrilling."

"Yeah, well, no one is really up for a card game or a conversation with me today."

"Why's that?"

"You're kidding, right?" she said. "Everyone knows." She gave him a knowing glance.

"What?" he said.

"You really are clueless," she said. "I mean, I walk into your tent in the dark of night, close the door behind me, and don't come out til morning? People aren't stupid."

"Well, I guess news spreads fast on the coconut internet," he said.

Clem furrowed her brows. "The what?"

"Coconut— ah, never mind," he said, scoffing. "So they know. So what?"

"Well, you're public enemy number one right now," she said.

Sawyer nodded. "So... sleeping with me makes you public enemy number two."

"Bingo," she said, tilting her head. "Maybe high school dropouts aren't so stupid."

"Ha, ha," he said sarcastically.

"I dropped out of high school too," she said, turning to look out at the water.

"Why?" he asked.

"My mom kicked me out," she said.

"Hm," he said simply. She looked over at him, brows furrowed.  His feet were in the water now, too, and he was staring out at the horizon.

"Don't you want to know why?"

"It's none of my business," he said with a shrug.

She looked back out at the water. "You're an interesting guy, James."

"I'm going to go ahead and take that as a compliment."

They hung out there for a little longer, then Clementine got an idea. "Want to go for a swim?" she asked.

"I thought you didn't like swimming," he said, brows raised.

"I've never said that," she said, scrunching her features.

"But back at the lake you didn't want to swim."

"You mean the lake we found two dead bodies in? Of course I didn't want to swim there. I like swimming."

He smiled. "Well, good," he said. "I have something for you. Come with me."

She had a sneaking suspicion about what it was, but she left her shoes behind and followed him across the sand to his tent anyway. He went inside and she watched him rummage through a suitcase full of button up shirts and a few pairs of jeans, and at the bottom, came upon a bathing suit. He tossed it to her with a smile, and she examined it. It was navy blue with straps that crossed along the back, and bottoms that had little bow decorations at the sides. It was just her size.

"Where did you get this?" she said.

"Found it in one of the abandoned suitcases," he said. "Will it fit?"

She looked up at him. "You know it will."

"You gonna put it on?"

She chuckled. "If we're gonna go for a real swim, maybe we should find another beach to do it."

Sawyer shrugged. "It's an island, Sunshine."

"You know what I meant."

He gave her a nod. "I'll leave you to it," he said, walking out of the tent, then closing the flaps behind him. She got dressed, then pulled her other clothes back over the bathing suit. No one needed to know what they were doing. She would lead them maybe a quarter mile down the coast, and they'd have a secluded spot to swim. Clementine hadn't been down to the hatch for a few days, and she missed the showers, but the ocean would have to do. It had for the past few months, anyway.

She stepped out of the tent and he looked her up and down, brows raised. "Looks great," he said sarcastically.

"Relax," she said. "It's underneath. Come on." She grabbed his hand and pulled him past his tent, past where the fishing epicenters of the island were, and walked down the beach about a quarter mile. Once she believed they were somewhere no one could see them from camp, she began to take her clothes off, revealing the bathing suit underneath.

Sawyer followed suit, deciding to swim in only his jeans. Odd choice, but they'd only found one pair of swim trunks when they'd torn through all the suitcases so long ago, so it would have to do. 

"What do you think?" she said, spinning. The bathing suit was a perfect fit. Without the view of the camp, this was the most civilized she'd felt since the crash. It was really like she was having a tropical vacation— just her and Sawyer.

No matter how much she regretted going to Australia in the first place, how much she wanted to get out of here, how much she wished their plane had never crashed, she was glad it had happened that way. Without Australia, without this place, and without Oceanic flight 815 crashing here, she never would have met him. They never would have talked. She never would have kissed him.

Sawyer gave her a raised brow smile. "Real good," he said.

They ran toward the ocean, jumping right into the salty water.  Both of them were grinning ear to ear, laughing and splashing. They were only waist-deep when they paused for a moment, allowing their heart rates to calm. Clem trudged through the water, getting closer to him as small waves crashed between their bodies. He knew exactly what she was doing, and he simply let her. 

She slowly placed her arms around him, and as she brought her face close to his, he glanced at her lips with a sort of longing, a need for the taste of her tongue. Their lips were magnetically attracted. They came apart for barely a second, then back together as her hands made their way into his wet hair and the kiss deepened. Their tongues danced as the ocean splashed around them. For this moment, they were finally and truly alone.

Coming apart, their foreheads stayed close together. Sawyer stared at her now pink lips once again, blushed from the rush of blood. She looked down into the water, taking her hands out of his hair and moving down to his arms. "You taste like mangoes," he told her.

She laughed. "You taste like saltwater."

Their foreheads slowly came apart. "So," he began, his voice low. They were still only inches away from each other. His hands rested easy around her waist. "This is a thing now? You and me?" He was smiling.

"I don't know," she said.

"Well, what do you know?"

Clementine just laughed, and pulled him in for another kiss.

But before the kiss could deepen, someone greeted them from afar, walking along the shore at the edge of the water. "Afternoon." Clementine and Sawyer quickly broke apart, turning confusedly to see Charlie walking along the beach. He had an awkward smile on his face. "Don't mind me," he said. "Just going for a walk. You kids have fun," he said. He waved, then continued his stroll.

Clementine and Sawyer gave each other looks. Shortly after that, they trudged out of the water and began slipping their clothes back on.

"Well, that was fun while it lasted," he said, a little dissatisfied as he buttoned his shirt back up.

"They should call this place No Fun Island."

"Catchy," he said sarcastically, chuckling a little.

"Yeah well, it's no tourist destination," she said, pulling her pants over her legs. She glanced out at the blue water. "It's pretty. But if I left, I'd never come back."

"You and me both, Sunshine."

Chapter Text

Clementine didn't sleep in Sawyer's tent the next night. While people weren't giving her looks anymore, she knew they weren't exactly happy with her for doing what she did— especially choosing to give herself over immediately after he conned the whole camp into taking over. Looking back, it wasn't the best time, but she just couldn't wait anymore. She needed him to be hers.

It was not a quiet night, and she didn't get the greatest sleep, no thanks to Aaron's endless crying. He wouldn't stop no matter how long Claire rocked him or fed him. It seemed to have woken up the whole island, because Rousseau came by, insisting that the baby was sick and infected. Angry with the woman who had previously stolen her child, Claire yelled at Rousseau and kicked her out of the camp. Aaron did have a fever and a rash, but Jack credited it to roseola, which was apparently common in children. Claire wasn't so sure.

Locke had asked her last week to cover a shift in the hatch that morning, so once she couldn't sleep anymore, she went down there, hoping to get an early start. It was always cold in the hatch, but she preferred it to the incessant heat of the beach. The button wasn't her favorite pastime, but at least it came with air conditioning.

When she got down there, however, Jack told her he'd cover her shift and sent her on her way. She thanked him, but decided to spend a little while longer in the hatch. She took a shower and went through all the bathroom amenities, which included real conditioner, and lotion for her ever-dry, working hands. Sweet relief.

She found something else, too, and once she was dressed, she bid farewell to Jack and headed back up to the beach. She found Sawyer sitting just outside his tent, holding the magazine she'd brought him very far from his face and squinting at it.

"Having fun?" she asked him, hands behind her back.

He looked up at her. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"You're gonna give yourself a headache," she said, glancing at the magazine.

"It's a good thing I have all the medicine, then, ain't it?"

She shook her head. "I brought something for you," she said, rocking back and forth on her heels.

He tilted his head. "And what's that?"

She held out her hand, and inside was two pairs of glasses.  One was rectangular with red wire and thick frames, and the other had square-shaped frames with a tortoiseshell pattern on the rims. He looked at them curiously as she bent down in front of him. "I found them down in the hatch in one of the bathroom drawers. I figure if they aren't your prescription, then you can at least keep them in your stash."

He took them from her, smiling. "These are an interesting look," he said, staring at the square ones.

"I know," she said. "Like a grandma from 1980."

He chuckled, then tried on the red wired ones. She took the magazine and held it out in front of him just like Jack had done when first examining him. "Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Too thick."

"Try the others."

He looked at her with raised brows, unsure. She just glanced at him, a look in her eye that told him, 'just put them on.' He did, then after blinking a few times, he looked at the magazine. His lips curled into a smile. "Hey," he said. "That's pretty clear."

"Yeah?" she said, brows raised. She was quite proud of herself, actually. "They're good?"

"Real good," he said, taking the magazine from her hand. Then he looked up at her. "How do I look?" he asked.

She chuckled a little. "You look good."

"Don't lie," he warned, brows raised.

"I'm not," she said, her voice high pitched.

"You are," he said, grabbing her waist. She laughed as he tossed the magazine aside and pulled her onto his lap. Their faces were close, and they were both smiling. "What do you think now, huh?" he asked.

"Not a grandma," she said, voice low.

"Mhm," he said. He brought his hands up to her cheeks and tucked her hair behind her ears. His blue eyes pierced through her like a knife, and she bit her lip, her hands traveling from his arms up into his hair. They seemed to be on the same wavelength, because they closed their eyes and leaned into each other at the same time. His cheeks were rough on hers, but his kiss was gentle, a sharp contrast from his harsh and strong exterior.

"I like them," she said, whispering as they broke apart. She still sat comfortably on his lap.

He smirked. "I believe you."

— ◒ —

Clementine didn't give him any more after that, afraid she might be going a little too far a little too fast. Sawyer seemed to be satisfied for now, and she left him to his reading, finally able to bury himself in a good book again. In her leisure time, Clementine decided to take after Shannon, and participate in her favorite beach activity— tanning.

Clementine wasn't sure how much more tan she and anyone else could get after spending nearly two months here, but lying on a towel in her bathing suit felt like a vacation. But she could only gaslight herself for so long before she got nosy, wanting to know what the others were up to. When she glanced at Sawyer's tent, she saw Kate there, standing with her hands on her hips, an annoyed look on her face. She slipped her clothes back on over the bathing suit, then walked over to them. Sawyer leaned forward as Kate spoke.

"She thinks he's really sick," Kate said, looking down at Sawyer in his chair. "As in quarantine sick."

"What do you think?" Sawyer asked her.

"I think she's a little too worried," Kate said. "But she's going after Rousseau with or without me."

"Rousseau?" Clem said, arms crossed as she listened into their conversation from beside. They two of them looked up at her. "What would she know?"

"Libby was helping Claire remember the time she was away," Kate began. "She saw..." She sighed.  "I don't know what she saw, but she remembered Ethan and Rousseau. So we're gonna go find her, and see if she knows anything."

Clementine nodded. "I want to come."

Kate nodded, then looked at Sawyer. "The guns?" she said, staring him down.

He looked up at her. "No boys allowed, huh?" he said.

Kate just shook her head.

He looked away for a moment, staring out at the water, then tilted his head in acceptance. "Alright, what do you want— nine millimeter or rifle?" he asked.

Kate and Clementine smiled.

Claire wasn't a trained hand, so they only asked for two guns— Kate went for the nine millimeter handgun, but Clementine preferred the rifle. Kate went to pack a backpack while Claire dropped her child off to Sun, who seemed to be the baby's designated babysitter now that Charlie was out of the picture. After gathering their guns, Sawyer did not say anything— not even a goodbye, but the look on his face told her all she needed to know. 'Be careful.'

She simply smiled back. 'I will.'

Then she walked away and found Kate packing a few bottles of water into a bag. She glanced up at her as Clem handed her the gun. She took it, placed it into her jeans, then zipped up the bag. "So," Kate said curiously, pulling the backpack onto her shoulders, "where'd you learn to shoot?"

"Hunting," she said simply.

"Sure," Kate said, brows raised as she watched Clementine sling the rifle onto her back. "Me too."

Something gave Clem the feeling she and Kate had more in common than she thought.

Once they gathered Claire, they set off out into the jungle. Kate lead their way, following Rousseau's faint trail from last night when they kicked her off the beach. They were a quiet group for a little while, trekking among the flora and fauna deep inside the jungle. They went past downed tree trunks from previous storms and rocky streams flowing with fresh water. It was a humid, overcast day.

Once the silence became more awkward than peaceful, Claire finally spoke up as they walked up a hill beside the stream. "You're sure this is her trail?" she asked Kate.

"We started at the exact spot where we chased her off the beach," Kate said.

"So, what do you know about Rousseau?" Claire said.

"Not much," Kate told her.

"You spent all that time with her when you went out to the Black Rock," Claire said. "You must have talked about something."

"Just about her ship crashing here and her research team getting stranded," said Kate simply. She bent down to examine some tracks.

"Her research team," Clem repeated. "What happened to them?"

Kate paused for a moment. "They died," she said.

Clem and Claire glanced at each other, then back at Kate. "How?" Claire asked.

Kate cleared her throat, standing. "Tracks are gone. Trail ends here."

"Kate, how did they die?" Claire said, taking a step in front of her.

"She killed them."

"What?" the two others chorused.

Claire furrowed her brows. "Why would she—"

"Because they were infected." Their heads whipped to the side. Danielle Rousseau was standing there in the same state Clem had seen her in last, dirtied, disheveled, and tired. Her rifle, as usual, was slung over her shoulder, and she stood near a thick tree trunk. Claire took quick steps toward her. "You believe me now, don't you?" Rousseau said.

"I want you to take me back there," Claire asserted, walking up to the woman before Clem or Kate could stop her.

"Back?" she repeated.

"To where I scratched you." She glanced down at scratches on Rousseau's arm, four equidistant scars that could definitely be from fingernails. But when had Claire done this?

"Claire..." Kate began warily.

"No, okay, she knows I remember," Claire argued. She looked back at Danielle. "I remember a lot of it now. I remember the room, the medicine, a teenage girl. So don't lie to me and make out you don't know what I'm talking about. My baby is sick, and you're gonna take me back there to get what he needs right now."

Even though Claire was practically yelling at her, Rousseau did not get angry with Claire, simply looked at her, blank faced. "It's not far from here," she said. Then she walked between them all, and began leading the way.

"Can I ask you something, Claire?" Clementine asked her, voice low.  They trailed a few feet behind Kate and Rousseau. Claire looked over at her. "What did you remember?"

"I saw Ethan," she said. "We were in some kind of... I don't know.  It was a doctor's office. He put a needle in my stomach," she said, holding the spot on her belly as if it were paining again. "He said it was for the baby. So that he wouldn't get sick. There was this room, too," she said, looking down. "They were going to take him. Keep him in a nursery.  I don't really remember much else, but there were flashes... a girl, the jungle, more Ethan... it's hard to remember."

Clementine nodded.  The continued to follow Rousseau, up hills and into a vast green valley.  Numerous cliffs hovered over them, covered in vines and moss. They climbed up a steep, dirt-covered hill, reaching a part of the jungle so thick with trees it was hard to walk through.  It was windy, and Clementine ended up having to tie back her hair. When they came upon a clearing surrounded by fallen trees whose floor was covered by dirt and leaves, Danielle paused, then turned around, facing Claire. "Why are we stopping here?" she asked.

"This is where you scratched me," Rousseau said simply.  She had a calm, firm voice, and her slight French accent didn't mess up her pronunciation of the English words. Clementine wondered if, during all those years to herself, she practiced both her languages.

They looked around. "But there's nothing here," Claire said.

"Where do we go next?" she asked.

"Why are you asking me that?" Claire said, getting frustrated. "You need to tell me where to go."

"Where is this room?" Danielle asked, raising her voice.

"How can you be saying that, okay? You grabbed me, that's why I scratched you! Because you were taking me back to them!"

"Is that what you think?" Danielle said, tilting her head. Then she rushed up to Claire, grabbing her arms, saying, "You said you remembered! That's why I brought you here!"  Clementine and Kate took a few steps closer. "You lied!"

"Hey!" Kate yelled, pointing her gun right at Rousseau. "Get your hands off of her!"

Rousseau let go, and Claire stepped away. Clementine did not raise her rifle, but was ready to do so. As Rousseau walked toward them, Kate gritted her teeth and turned the safety off. Rousseau continued walking, and didn't stop until the barrel of the gun was touching her chest.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Please. Do it."

Clementine and Kate stared at her, eyes wide. Kate stepped back, and lowered her gun. Thunder rumbled across the sky as she walked off, Clementine not far behind.  It wasn't raining yet, but no doubt it would pour very soon. "Claire!" Kate shouted, walking in the direction the blonde had gone.

"Claire!" Clem repeated. No answer.  But it wasn't long before they found her in the grassy valley nearby, both letting out a breath of relief. When the three of them walked up behind her, she was staring at a log with her brows furrowed. It was an odd shape, with a few branches sticking out the top of it, sitting in the middle of this treeless clearing.  The closest ones were yards away, and there were no other downed trunks around.

"There you are," Clementine said, stepping toward her.  Claire put her hand out to stop their walk, then ran, a quick jog in the other direction. 

"Where're you going?" Kate said, as the three of them followed her.

"I know this is it," Claire said. "It's here." She stumbled through the tall grasses and down hills.

"Claire!" Kate called after her.

There was a hand on both their shoulders. "Leave her alone," Rousseau said.

"Excuse me?" Kate said, brows furrowed.

"Let her look," Rousseau said with a nod. 

"Look for what?" Kate said. She then ran in the direction Claire had gone. Without a glance back at Danielle, Clem followed her. The rain shower began as they shouted her name, walking into thick flora and fauna. They were deep in the jungle now, continuing to yell for her over the sound of the downpour. It soaked their clothes and hair, but they continued— there was a rustle nearby, and they glanced at each other, then ran in its direction.

Claire was pushing away some ferns and vines.  As she cleared the area, a brown tarp was revealed underneath, wet from the rain and very old. Brows furrowed in shock, Clem, Claire, and Kate pulled it off.  There was a set of tan metal doors under it, covered in rust and dirt. They sat in the ground at an angle, and definitely led somewhere underground. In the middle, was that very same octagonal logo from the hatch, with DHARMA written clearly at its center. In place of a swan, however, was a caduceus.

They all stared in disbelief for a few seconds before Clem and Kate stepped up, each grabbing a handle. The doors creaked when they opened, and revealed a steep, dark staircase down into a bunker whose faint lights flickered rapidly. Claire led the way down.

Once they got down there, Kate opened a fuse box. In place of switches, flashlights, each with the Dharma logo, hung inside. Kate took four out and handed one to each of them. Clementine took it with a nod.  In one hand, a tiny light source, and in her other, the rifle, finger just above the trigger, ready to raise it should anything pop up. Kate closed the metal cabinet.

She walked up, shining the light on the ceiling above them. The long, florescent bulbs blinked at them. "No lights," Kate said. "I'm gonna see if I can turn the power on."

"I'll come with you," Clementine said. She looked over at Claire. "You okay?" she asked her. She nodded, then followed Kate down the hall. "I don't like this," she said to Kate quietly, as they walked back toward the way they'd come, waving the flashlight at every wall to try to find the master fuses.  The entire place was metal, too white and too clean. Every footstep echoed throughout the bunker, and the lights hummed as they flickered.

"Yeah," said Kate. "Me neither."  As she glided her flashlight along the wall, there was a flash of gray— both of them pointed their lights back at it, walking up— another fuse box, this one smaller than the last, but still embedded with the Dharma logo. Kate opened it. There were only two large faders inside, but their labels were scratched and washed-out, so Kate pushed them both up. Once they were both all the way up, the lights flashed on, revealing the entirety of the eerie bunker.

Once the lights were on, they walked back down the hall.  Danielle and Claire were inside one of the rooms nearest the entrance, so they walked a little further down the way. Gun at the ready, Clementine pushed open a white door with a translucent, green tinted window.  Once they saw there was no one inside, the two glanced at each other, then strapped in.

This was a small, concrete room, lined with lockers of a light green color. None of them had locks on them, so Kate pulled open the one nearest her, one of three tall lockers. Inside were tattered clothes on hangers in earthy tones. Kate examined them, brows furrowed. She pulled a dirty, knit beanie off the top shelf, then looked down. On the floor of the locker was a brown wooden box.

Clem watched curiously at Kate bent down and quickly opened it. Inside was a bunch of bottles, and what looked like... hair?  Kate pulled it out— a fake beard, and a full kit complete with theatrical glue, makeup, and dirt powder. Kate just stared, face scrunched.

"What is it?" Clementine asked.

Slowly, Kate looked up at her. "It's fake," she said. "The man that took me when I went after Jack, Locke, and Sawyer— he was wearing this," she said, gesturing to the beard. "And a hat just like that one." She glanced at the knit beanie on the tile floor. "Dirt powder, makeup... it's all fake."

Before Clementine could react, there was a call from down the hall. "Help!" Claire called. "Kate, Clementine, come here!"

They walked down the hall and through two double doors, into a room whose ceiling was littered with round, bright lights. Things were knocked over and every counter, shelf, and cabinet was bare. It looked like a medical procedure room. Rousseau was staring in shock from the corner of the room, and Claire was kneeling on the ground in front of a downed refrigerator, unable to lift it.

"Help me out with this!" Claire said.

"What is it?" Kate asked, stepping forward. Clementine stayed near the doorway.

"It's in here," she said. "The vaccine's in here!"

Kate walked over, then bent down to help her. "Okay," she said. "Okay. One, two, three!" With strained groans, the two girls slowly lifted the fridge, finally tipping it back up. Claire pulled on the metal handle and opened it— but nothing was inside. The metal racks were bare and the inside light wasn't even on. Claire bent down, pulling at it. "It was in here!" she said, turning to them. "The vaccine was in here!" she yelled.

Claire bent back down and started pulling out the metal racks and throwing them, yelling, "Where is it? Where is it?" She stood back up, her voice faltering. "The vaccine was in here! Where is it?" She glared right at Rousseau as she yelled. "You were bringing me back here!" she said, grabbing the woman's shoulders. "Where is it?" Rousseau was unfazed by her yelling and shaking, and simply stared poker-faced at the girl. "You know where it is, don't you? Tell me! Tell me where it is! Tell me!"

As Claire glared, she looked into Rousseau's eyes for a moment, then blinked. After glancing down at the scars on the woman's arm, her gaze softened, and she shook her head. "You..." A pause. "You weren't trying to take me back, were you?" Her grip loosened. "You were trying to save me."

"I carried you on my back to your camp," Rousseau said softly. "I left you where they would find you."

"I'm sorry," Claire whispered.

Danielle looked at her for another moment, then turned around and stepped out the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Danielle looked at her. "You're not the only one who didn't find what they were looking for."

They followed her out, back through the thick jungle, the grassy valley, cliffs, hillsides, and even more jungle.  It was when they reached the place where the trees were tallest that Rousseau finally stopped. "This is as far as I go," she said.

She turned to go eastward, but Claire took a few steps toward her, calling back to her with the words, "Your baby... was it a girl?"

Rousseau turned to face her, a sort of sentimental look in her eyes. "Yes," she said, not looking right at Claire.

"What was her name?"

Danielle smiled a little. "Alex," she said breathily. "Alexandra." It was beautiful, the way she said it— not only the French curl on her words, but also the memories, the sentimentality. Clementine had never seen this woman smile before.

"I remember a girl," Claire said. "A girl with blue eyes. She, uh..." Claire glanced at the ground. "She helped me. She saved me.  Just like you did." Danielle's lips curled downward, and her blue eyes became glassy with tears. "She wasn't like the others. She was good."

There was some moments of silence. Danielle looked down at the ground, and wiped a tear away from her eye before it could run its course down her cheek. "I am sorry," she said, "that you didn't find what you were looking for. And I hope your baby is not infected." Her voice was strained. "But if it is... I hope you know what must be done."

After a blank look at both Clementine and Kate, she walked away. They watched her disappear among the trees and vines, then turned back around and headed south for their camp.  There was still about an hour's walk left before they reached home, especially at the tired pace they were moving.  They took a pause after 20 minutes, passing around a bottle of water. Clementine just couldn't take the silence anymore— her mind was racing, and that was never a good thing,

"So, Claire," she said, as they began the final leg of their trek, "how are things with... y'know, you and Charlie?"

Claire looked over at her, brows raised, then down at the ground. "The same," she said with a shrug. "I just... I don't know. I can't stand when people are lying. Keeping secrets.  I can't keep giving out second chances."

"I get it," said Kate. She glanced at Clementine.

"In time," Clementine said, ignoring Kate's obviously targeted look. "He's sorry, isn't he?"

"Well, yeah," said Claire. "But I just... it's both of us, I think. I just need to take a break. I want him to win his trust back, you know? I can't just give it to him."

"That's a good decision," Kate said, patting her on the back. Then she eyed Clementine again. This time, Clem just couldn't take it.

"Would you stop looking at me like that?" she said.

"Like what?" said Kate flatly.

Clem thinned her eyes. "Every time she mentions something about trust, second chances... you look at me. Let's all address the elephant in the... the jungle, alright?" She bit the inside of her cheek.

Claire and Kate glanced at each other, but she couldn't see either of their faces.

"I know you guys talk about me," Clem said. "It's a little obvious. If you have something to say to me, say it."

Kate sighed. "I— we—" she glanced at Claire again— "just think that... well, Sawyer doesn't exactly have many redeeming qualities."

Clem was about to open her mouth to retort, but Claire took over. "What Kate means is," she began, "we care about you, Clementine. You're our friend. And I know we never..." She bit her lip, trying to think of the best way to say it. "You've just been a little different, I think. After Shannon. And I just want you to know that we're all here for you. And I get it, needing something... physical. And I know you've had feelings for him for a long time. We both know that." She gestured to Kate. "And we want to be able to give you advice without you brushing us off."

Clementine sucked her teeth, looking up at Kate. "I'm sorry for that, by the way," she said.

Kate smiled a little, as if to say, 'it's okay.'

"And I'm sorry that I haven't talked to you guys," she said. "That I..." She sighed. "I can't help what I'm feeling. I know I can't. And I couldn't hold it back anymore. I'm not sorry I slept with Sawyer. I care about him. Nothing's going to change that, no matter what he does. But I cared about him before Shannon, and I care about him now."  She looked down, playing with her fingernails. "I know the timing wasn't great," she continued, chuckling dryly. Then she looked up. "But I care about him. That's all that really matters to me."

"I want you to be happy," said Kate, putting a hand on Clem's back as they walked. "After everything we've been through, we all deserve it. It just... it almost felt like you were on his side."

"I don't like what he did, or how he did it," she said, shaking her head. "Sometimes I can't stand him." She shrugged. "Even still, the feelings are there. I tried not thinking about it. It doesn't work."

Kate chuckled.  "Don't I know it."

"Oh, yeah," said Claire, with a glance at Kate. "How are things with Jack, anyway?"

Kate shrugged, looking down.

"That bad, huh?" Clem said.

"Yeah, well," Kate said, "he's pretty preoccupied with Ana Lucia right now."

"I think he's just upset," Claire said. "In time, right?" She glanced at Clem.

"Exactly," she agreed. "And come on, have you seen the way he looks at you? I think he's trying to make you jealous. How many times do you see him and Ana walking by you every day?"

"I don't know," Kate said. "They're always walking and talking."

Clem smiled. "There you go," she said with a shrug.

Kate chuckled. "You really think so?"

"When you kissed him, he kissed you back, right?"

"Well..." Kate paused. "Yeah. I guess he did."

Clementine raised her brows, nodding.

"We're in it together, aren't we?" Claire said, laughing a little. "All of us, in the same boat."

Clementine and Kate smiled, too. "Boys, right?" Clem said.

Kate and Claire both nodded.

Chapter Text

They got back around late afternoon. The clouds were clearing, raining rays of light over the peaceful ocean. The waves were quiet after that storm, crashing along the sandy shore and slowly moving the tiny grains around. Clementine decided that a wash off and a swim was in order, especially with the water so nice.

Aaron's condition was looking up. Jack came up out of the hatch about an hour after they left, and was happy to find that the baby's fever had lowered and his rash was mostly gone. Perhaps all the baby had needed was time. Whatever it was that had healed him, Claire was happy to see it.

Mornings were usually quiet here. Without some big trek or adventure going on, people simply lived out their lives, finding odds and ends to occupy themselves with. Fruit picking was always a big one, especially for those who liked to get their legs moving like Kate. Sawyer liked his books— Clem didn't know if this was simply a hobby he'd picked up in these circumstances, or if he'd always liked reading. He had a much larger supply now that the hatch was open for business. There were a few decks of cards going around, too, and a ping-pong table down there. The hatch had decreased boredom, for one thing.

However much they wished to have that sweet, sweet air conditioning, Jack and Locke kept switching shifts around. Clementine hadn't had one for probably a week now— and everyone she talked to said just about the same thing. It was a little odd, but maybe she didn't want to know what was going on down there. It always led to more problems, and she would much rather worry about fruit and the tide than mysterious hatches and whatever was going on inside them. Frankly, it wasn't any of her business. And she wanted to keep it that way.

Things with Sawyer had sort of plateaued. It wasn't anyone's fault, really. She still hadn't slept with him again, no matter how much he'd wanted it. After she gave him back the guns she and Kate had used on their trek, he tried to make a move on her, but she told him she needed to wash the day off her first. It was true, but really, she just needed time.

She couldn't blame Kate and Claire for feeling the way they did, but it didn't change her feelings for him. No matter how hard she thought, she knew she wanted him. It wasn't their words that had her overthinking things.

She cared about Sawyer, and she knew that because of the way she'd felt when he'd left on the raft, the way she'd felt when he came back half-dead, the way she felt when he finally woke up. But no matter how much she cared about him, she'd probably never know if he felt the same way about her. Maybe he was desperate for some action. Maybe he'd just been on this island too damn long. Maybe he'd been saving that bathing suit knowing he'd get in the water and make out with whoever put it on, no matter who it was.

For the first time, Clementine actually felt like she deserved something. After all this, shouldn't she have something good?

That was the thing, though. Sawyer wasn't good. He wasn't a good person, no matter how much she'd like him to be. But Clementine wasn't, either. Maybe they deserved each other.

— ◒ —

The sun was high in the sky. Clem spotted Sun walking away from Sawyer's tent, and in her boredom, decided to go see what she had wanted. She was holding something in her hands, but Clem couldn't tell if she looked unhappy, or simply satisfied. She was too far now.

"Did you give it to her?" Clementine called to Sawyer, walking over to his tent. He turned around and looked at her, hand over his eyes from the sun.

"D'you even know what it was?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I want to know if you gave it to her." She stopped a few feet in front of him.

"Yep," he said, a little too proud of himself.  Perhaps Sawyer had never been to preschool, and therefore never learned that sharing is caring.  "Free of charge."

"Nothing's free with you. What did she want?"

He raised his brows. "You're not gonna believe me."

Clem scrunched her face. "What?" she said. "Just tell me."

Sawyer took a few steps closer. "A pregnancy test," he said. Clementine's expression lightened. "I don't know who in the hell carries one with them on a plane, but I had one. Hers now. Jin really gets right to it, don't he?" Sawyer chuckled to himself.

"Really," she said. "A pregnancy test?"

"Don't believe me, ask her," she said, nodding in the direction Sun had gone.

"That's okay," she said. "That's personal."

"You think we'll be out of here by the time that baby is born?"

"I sure as hell hope so." Clementine sighed.  "You bored?" she asked him. Sawyer walked back around to his airplane seat, and she followed him.

"I got some reading to catch up on," he said, picking up the book and gesturing with it. He sat back down, placing his glasses onto his face. Clementine looked down at the short novel.  Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret, by Judy Blume. She chuckled. "That's what you're reading?"

"I don't see anything else around," he said, brows raised as he flipped through to find his page.

"You're funny."

"Thanks."  He was staring at the book now.

"Want to read to me?" She took a seat in front of him.

Sawyer looked up at her again, brows raised. "This ain't kindergarten. You can read, can't you?"

"Oh, come on," she said, patting her lap with pretend drama. "Please?"

"You really love the sound of my voice, huh?" He smiled a little.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said.  "I'm bored. If you don't want to, I'll find something else to do." She planted her feet on the ground to stand, but he put a hand out.

"Alright," he gave in. "Stay. I'll read."

Clementine smiled in victory.

"I hope you know I hate reading out loud."

"Good thing you don't hate me, right?"

Sawyer smiled and sighed, shaking his head, then looked back at the book and began to read.

— ◒ —

Once they'd both become bored with the children's novel, Clementine joined Charlie and Sayid in building a large table for the group for all their food storage. It was wide and large, and would have a sort of shelf attached to it for all their storage, instead of splitting it all up into people's tents or various piles.  While the two boys stayed and tied knots for the construction, Clementine took the axe up to one of the bamboo groves and started cutting branches down for the structure.

Sun came by about an hour in. Her garden wasn't far from here, and her hands looked like she'd been working. Clementine put down the axe and threw the piece of bamboo she was working with to the side, wiping sweat off her forehead. "Hi, Sun," she said, smiling.

"Hello," she said.

"I heard you have news," she said.

Sun furrowed her brows. "Sawyer told you?"

She chuckled a little. "Yeah," she said. "You're pregnant?"

Sun smiled and nodded. "Yes," she said.

Clementine grinned, taking Sun's hand in both of hers. "I'm really happy for you, Sun. You deserve this."

"Thank you," she said.

"You know, if one person in this place should get to be happy, it's you," Clem said. "You and Jin, you're so in love," she said. "I always wanted that."

"One day," said Sun with a nod. "I know it will happen for you."

"Maybe," said Clem.

Sun put a hand on her shoulder. "I think we all deserve some kind of chance at being happy," she said. "Jin and I, we've always wanted a child. And somehow, in this place, I got what I always wanted."

Clementine thought now. She thought about herself... but her mind seemed to drift onto another face, smiling in the sun, blond hair framing her cheeks. Shannon. This island, though it cursed her in the end, brought her everything she'd ever wanted. People to believe in her. People who loved her for who she was on the inside, people who knew what she was capable of. People like Sayid and Clementine. Shannon got everything she wanted, even with all the bad things she'd done to Boone.

But these were two very different stories.

Clementine looked down at the ground as her smile weakened. "Yeah," she said quietly.

"One day," said Sun.

Clem looked up at her. "Congratulations, Sun. Truly."

— ◒ —

When Clementine got back, Charlie and Sayid were nowhere to be found.  She asked around, and apparently they'd run off with Ana Lucia, though no one seemed to know exactly where. People were always escaping into the jungle on the most random adventures, which was a bit of annoyance if you needed that person for something.  But there was nothing she could do, so Clementine left the bamboo she'd cut by their project, then walked away.

The next morning was hot, but the breeze would run its course every so often and cool them off. Sawyer had gotten ahold of a pack of playing cards from the hatch, and offered that he and Clem play a few rounds of poker for their settlement money (if they ever got any). While it would be a nice pastime, Clementine opted out.

"No thanks," she said. "I don't gamble."

"Why not?" he said, waving the cards around. "'Fraid you're gonna lose?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm afraid I'm gonna win." Adrenaline junkie was one thing— skydiving, bungee jumping, and scuba diving were all expensive hobbies, but at least she wasn't throwing money down the drain. She'd never even tried gambling in fear all the excitement might get her addicted. She didn't want to become a sore loser.

He scoffed. "You even know how to play?"

Clementine blinked at him, then huffed. "No," she said.

"Come on," he said. "No pressure.  We'll play for mangoes instead."

Sure, on the island, there wasn't really much chance she could get addicted to playing poker with Sawyer, especially for mangoes. Maybe she simply didn't want to.

She put a finger to her chin in fake thought, then saw Hurley and Kate walking down the beach, holding long sticks of bamboo and carrying them toward the big dining table project. Sayid, Charlie, and Ana Lucia still weren't back.  But they'd left late in the day, and probably made camp for the night. Clem wasn't too worried.

"Hey, guys," she called to them. Both Hurley and Kate turned their heads. "Wanna play poker?"

Kate and Hurley glanced at each other, then back at Clem. "Sure," Kate said, a smile on her face. "We'll drop these off and be right over."

Clem smiled and nodded, then turned back to Sawyer as the other two continued in the same direction. "There," she said. "I got you some poker buddies."

"I could teach you, y'know," Sawyer said. "It'll give us something to do, right?"

"I'll just watch," she said.

Sawyer shrugged, brows raised. "Your loss."

Kate and Hurley walked over, taking a seat around the makeshift table in front of Sawyer's tent— a suitcase with a tarp over the top. They sat on broken plastic crates and thick logs, and Sawyer dealt the cards. "No cheating," Clementine said, arms crossed as she watched him. She sat at the end of the table, and didn't get anything dealt to her.

"Right," he said, glancing at her with raised brows.

They played a few rounds, and Clementine slowly picked up on a few things.  She sat just beside Sawyer, who would whisper things about the game to her as she watched them play. She could only see his cards, but it was enough to learn by. "See, here I have a pair. If Gambler Barbie over there also has a pair, but hers are aces, it beats mine. Any way else, I win." "Here I got nothing. But I'm queen high, so even if Lardo has nothing, if he's got a king or an ace, he beats me." Sawyer remarked that one could usually tell by Hurley's face.  That round, Clem guessed it wasn't looking great for him.

After the first few rounds, Kate offered that Clementine be dealt in, but she much preferred simply watching. They continued to play, raising the bets for each round— not just mangoes, now, but papayas, too, and a few bananas here and there. 

"I bet four papayas," Hurley said, glancing nervously at his hand.

"You can't bet. I just bet.  You can either call or raise, or lay 'em down, muttonchops."

Hurley's eyes drifted to Kate, who shook her head. "Don't look at me," she said.

"Lay 'em down, Hurley."  Jack walked over to their table. All heads turned to face him. "He's got you beat," he told him.

"Dude, I've got a killer hand here," Hurley said, holding his cards close to his chest.

Jack shook his head. "No, you don't."

"But you don't even know—"

"You got a baby straight," Jack said, kneeling down next to him. "He's got the flush."

Clementine and Sawyer glanced at each other with surprise, and Kate raised her brows and smiled, impressed. "What about me?" she asked, looking up at him and hiding her cards. "What do I got?"

Jack smiled. "Hard to say, but you're just playing for the fun of it."

"Well, fun's not bad," she said. "You should try it sometime."

Jack chuckled a little, then turned to walk away. "Don't call 'em, Hurley."

"Hey, Amarillo Slim!" Sawyer called. Jack stopped and turned back around. "You think 'cause you watch poker on TV, you can tussle with the big boys?" He had that knowing smile on his face, eyes thinned and mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

Jack pointed toward the jungle. "I've gotta head back to the hatch."

"Hatch ain't going nowhere, Doc," Sawyer told him. "So how 'bout you put your mangoes where your mouth is?"

Jack looked intrigued. They all waited for his reply to Sawyer's challenge— surely Jack wouldn't back down from something like this. Finally, he smiled, then nodded once, walking back over to their little poker table. "Guess I could play a hand or two."

"You still don't wanna play, Clementine?" Kate asked, handing her cards to Sawyer so he could shuffle again. 

She shook her head, leaning back a little. "I'm good," she said. "And I've got the feeling Jack is a little too good at this game for any of us."

Sawyer chuckled. "Right," he said.

The game went on for a good few hours. Jack was... well, he knew his stuff. Clementine was pretty glad she'd kept her fruit stash out of the game, because it would all be Jack's by now. After an hour, he had a giant pile of mangoes, bananas, and papayas sitting in the sand near his feet. Kate and Hurley seemed exhausted, but Sawyer was still (stubbornly) going strong.

Jack bet, and both Kate and Hurley threw down their cards. "Dude, you got me."

"I'm out."

Sawyer looked over at Jack. "Think you're in my head, Doc?"

"You've still got 3 papayas," he said, glancing at the fruits down at the table. "Call or fold."

"Well, you're in trouble now, Cool Hand." He threw down his cards, revealing the pair of queens. "Pocket queens makes me a set." He smiled at Jack in victory, then laughed.  Slowly, Jack placed his cards down on the table and spread them, revealing 2 kings underneath his hand.

"Kings wired."

Sawyer's smile quickly faded.

"Whoa, dude," Hurley said. Kate laughed.

"But at least I'm not in your head," Jack said.

Sawyer sighed, still staring down at the cards. "Well, I guess that's it," said Jack.

"What d'you mean, 'it?'" Sawyer said, looking up at him.

"Sawyer, you're busted. I got it all." He glanced down at the pile of fruit at his feet. "Wouldn't really be fair for you to go out and pick more mangoes."

"Well, I got a hell of a lot more than mangoes," Sawyer challenged. "You wanna play real stakes? Name 'em."

Jack chuckled, looking down. "It's a pile a fruit, man."

"And I want it back," Sawyer replied with a nod.

"Should I go and get a ruler?" Kate offered.  Clementine chuckled, glancing at her.

The boys ignored her comment, and Sawyer looked over at Hurley. "Fun time's over, Mongo, why don't you hit the buffet."

He glanced from him to Jack. "But... I wanna—"

Kate stood. "Come on, Hurley," she said. "Let's go. Leave these boys to their sandbox."  Hurley stood up, and he and Kate walked off. Jack and Sawyer looked over at Clementine.

"What, me too?" she said.

Sawyer tilted his head, giving her a look. "Alright, fine," she said. "Have fun," she said. She stood up, then walked off, but not before gesturing to Sawyer with her fingers crossed and a smile.

She was going to go and find something to do, maybe collect firewood or something, but she saw Kate and Hurley on her way up the beach. She paused for a moment, and upon spotting them, Kate motioned her over. They were digging through Hurley's things. "Here," he said, pulling out a pair of dented binoculars from underneath a tattered towel.

"What're those for?" Clem asked.

"We're gonna watch," said Kate.

Hurley held the binoculars giving them updates every so often.  They couldn't hear what the two men were talking about, but it didn't seem like Sawyer was putting in any fruit— Jack bet, yes, but Sawyer must have had something else Jack wanted. When Sawyer finally dealt the cards, Jack said something to him, and Sawyer collected them back into his hand and shuffled. He's trying to cheat, Clem thought, chuckling to herself.

"What's going on?" Libby asked, coming over to their little crowd.

Hurley glanced at her. "Jack and Sawyer are finally gonna beat each other up," he said.

They called and raised, then raised again, conversing for a moment.  Clementine could see it in Jack's face, even from here— he had Sawyer beat, whether mentally or in the cards. More people joined their crowd. Finally, Jack laid it down, followed by Sawyer.  Both of them had garbage hands— a pair of nines and a pair of fives. But it didn't matter, because one was higher. Jack won.

"Damn," Kate said, watching Jack stand up. "No fist fights."

"Unfortunately," added another survivor with a chuckle, a tall, Brazilian man called Paulo.

As the crowd dispersed, Jack walked off, taking his bag with him back out into the jungle. Clementine walked up to a disappointed Sawyer, collecting the cards and placing them back into the deck. He looked up at her smug face, then shook his head. "I don't want to hear it," he said.

"I just wanna know what he wanted," she said. "Was it the guns?"

He shook his head, closing the box of cards. "The medical supplies."

"Oh, that's not bad," she said. "I really thought he'd ask you for the guns."

"Well, he didn't," Sawyer said, looking up at her.

"Where are you keeping them, anyway?" she asked. "The guns."

He raised his brows. "Why would I tell you that?"

She crossed her arms. "Don't you trust me?"

He chuckled a little, standing. "I trust you about as far as I can throw you, Sunshine."

She furrowed her brows. "Why?" she said. "I stayed with you after you terrorized the whole camp. Isn't that worth something?"

He looked her up and down. "I already gave that to you."

"Oh, please," she said.

Sawyer took a step closer to her. "You and I both know we're not to be trusted," he said. "Didn't you tell me once you killed somebody?"

She breathed out. "Yes."

"Well, we don't want that happening again, do we?"

She looked at him with raised brows, as if to say, 'really?'

"Come on," he said. "If you had the guns hidden, and I asked you where they were, would you tell me?"

Clementine looked at him for a moment.  "Probably not," she said.

"Didn't think so."

Chapter Text

Food.

Glorious, abundant, processed, boxed food made to last a lifetime. Beautiful sugary treats and chocolate and salty snacks and junk food. And it was all just sitting there, in the middle of the jungle. Two pallets were stacked tall with white Dharma boxes full of more food than Clementine could even imagine. 

"Where did it come from?" she asked Kate, pausing as they reached the destination. The news was spreading to everyone on the beach— Clem was one of the first ones at the scene, but she could hear everyone else running towards them.  The food was enclosed in layers of clear wrap and netting, and was attached to a large parachute with a blinking white light. It had been dropped.

"I don't know," said Kate. "Jack and I, we found it last night."

"Where is Jack?" Clementine asked.

"Down in the hatch with Locke," Kate explained, watching Clementine step up to the pallets and examine the boxes and cans as everyone else began rushing up to do the same. "Something happened down there yesterday. Bunch of blast doors closed everything off. Locke hurt his leg."

"Oh, my God," Clementine said. "Is he okay?"

"He's doing alright," Kate said. "I'm going to head down there now. I'll tell him you said hi."

Clem nodded. "Thanks," she said.

Just as Kate began to walk away, another voice called her attention. "Hey, I'll trade you," said a woman standing next to her, a dirty blonde wearing a floral shirt. Her name was Nikki, and she was holding up a box of saltine crackers. "You can have these if I can have the fish ones." Clementine hadn't even realized she'd been holding them.

"Oh," she said. "Sure." They swapped, and Nikki turned back and continued.

It became a free-for-all. Everyone was taking whatever they wanted for themselves. Clem thought it might be nice to put one person in charge of the whole thing, just like they did last time. But everyone was already going crazy, taking whatever they could carry.

"Any of you guys see a plane last night?" asked Charlie, who was standing next to Libby.

"Yeah, I saw it, Tattoo," Sawyer said sarcastically, going through boxes of pasta and cereal. "I just decided not to tell."

Then the arguing began— Clementine knew it was inevitable.

"Hey, give that back, man!"

"I saw it first!"

"You saw me take those!"

"No!"

"It's my box!"

"Wait, hold on!"

"Gimme my stuff, man!"

"Hold on—"

"Give it back!"

"Take it easy!" Sawyer's voice was the loudest of them all now, shouting above the crowd as he leaned over the pallets of food. Everyone looked at him. "You guys are like locusts! How about a little order here?"

Charlie tilted his head. "Shouldn't we let someone a little bit more trustworthy take care of this?"

"Like you, babynapper?" Sawyer challenged.

"No," said Charlie, taking a step toward him. "Like Hurley." He glanced at him, standing just behind Libby. He looked a little uneasy. "Why not Hurley? He's done it before."

"No," Hurley said immediately. "No way!" Everyone looked over at him, confused. "Not me! No, not again. No."

"Okay," Libby said, looking around at them all. "Hey, guys. How about no one's in charge, okay? I'm sure everyone can manage to just take whatever they need."

"Great plan, Moonbeam," Sawyer remarked. "After that, we can sing 'Kumbaya' and do trust falls."

The arguing continued, though perhaps slightly more civil now. Clementine didn't want to get involved, so once she took everything she wanted, she took a step back and watched the scene. The food slowly diminished as people filled their arms and took it back down to the beach. It looked like Sawyer had ripped off a part of the netting holding the whole thing together so that he could carry his abundant bundle of food back down to his tent. 

"Want some help?" Clementine had asked him, watching him walk lopsidedly past her with the net slung over his shoulder.

"Nope," he said, without a look at her.

Things with Sawyer were still a little complicated. She spent a lot of time with him, and she always enjoyed being around him, but she was still unsure about it all. She hadn't slept with him since, and neither of them had made any moves in about 3 days.  He'd tried to, of course, but she'd brushed him off each time. It was better that they were taking a little break right now, especially since they weren't calling it anything.

Sometimes it was off putting.  Whenever she'd deny him, he'd just... listen. He wouldn't protest, and would usually just make some 'if you say so' sort of comment, and continue whatever he was doing. Sawyer had never seemed like a 'take no for an answer' kind of guy. He'd never said anything that made her feel like he cared, never told her he had any feelings for her. Sure, there was a gift or two, but if he really cared, would he have even left on the raft? Would he have made her keep his secret? The stupid cowboy was too damn hard to read.

— ◒ —

Charlie, Ana Lucia, and Sayid had come back from yesterday's long trek that morning, but she'd only seen Charlie around. The other two were down in the hatch with Kate, Locke, and Jack.  People were getting suspicious as to what was going on down there, even though Charlie was still trying to play it off as nothing. She couldn't find him around to interrogate him, so instead, she searched for someone to help her work on her tent— maybe she'd finally be able to stand up inside it instead of just sit down.

"Morning, Sun. Hi, Jin."

"Hi, Clementine."

"Hello," Jin said.

Clem smiled. "Good one," she said.  "You been working on your English?"

He glanced at Sun, who translated. Jin looked back at Clementine and nodded. "English. Yes."

"What are you up to, Clementine?" Sun asked.

"Actually, I was wondering if you guys could do me a favor," she said. "I don't know how long we're gonna be on this island. I don't think my sorry excuse for a tent is gonna cut it anymore. You think you guys could help me out?"

Sun nodded. "Of course," she said.  "You need wire?"

"That would be great, actually. Only if you're not using it."

She nodded.  "You have tarps?"

"Yeah," Clem replied. "And I already cut some bamboo. I had leftover scraps from the dining table." She gestured to Charlie and Sayid's half-finished project up the beach.

Jin asked her something in Korean, and Sun replied with a nod.  Jin ventured into their tent, and Sun followed Clem a few yards away toward her own. It was out of the shade and in the middle of most of the tents, hidden by the larger ones surrounding it. Over time, people had made their structures quite impressive, some even having benches and canopies and doors made from tarps. Clem liked it— like a little community.  It was nice here.

Jin came by with a few bundles of wire, and the three of them began by untying all of Clementine's previous knots, then making her structure wider, and with the new bamboo, taller.  Jin did most of the structure, and he and Sun even taught Clementine a few nautical knots.  She learned Jin was from a fishing family, and Sun the daughter of a powerful businessman, which wasn't exactly a conventional marriage where they were from.

"I think it's a display of your love," Clementine said, holding up a bamboo rod as Sun tied the other end of it. "Defying societal norms. Your skills come in handy, Jin. You're impressive, and I don't think we'd have any fish without you." She smiled at him, and Sun translated.

"Thank you," Jin said. His words were slow and strained, and Sun was trying to teach him to speak with as little accent as possible.  He seemed to be a quick learner.

Just as they were about to begin tying her tarp, there was a shout and a clatter nearby. Their heads quickly turned to the voices. Hurley had tackled Sawyer and the two of them had destroyed the latter's tent. "Think you're funny?" Hurley shouted. The two men were tangled up in the large tarp from his tent, and you could only see them moving underneath it.

"What are you doing? Get off me!" Sawyer shouted, clawing at the tarp. He tried crawling out, but Hurley pulled him back.

"Who do you think you are!"

"Let go!" Sawyer climbed out of the tarp, but was only halfway out before Hurley pulled him back.

"Lambchop!" Hurley said angrily, pulling the tarp off the both their faces as Sawyer shouted.  "Pork pie! Babar!" Hurley punched him again, then again, all the while staying on top of him. Clementine stood there with her hand cupped over her mouth in shock. Everyone on the beach was watching them now.

"Get off me!"

"Jabba!" Punch. "Stay-puft!" Slap.

Sun said something in Korean to her husband, who was grinning ear to ear.

"Kong!" Hurley continued.

"Let go of me!"

"Deep dish!"

"Get him off me!" He had his arms covering her face, not even fighting back anymore. Hurley was much heavier-set than Sawyer was, and there was no chance he was getting away from him without some help.

Finally, Sun gave her husband a command in Korean and a little push. Still smiling, Jin rushed over to the two men, pulling Hurley away as Sawyer continued to shout. "Get off me! You out of your mind?"

Hurley struggled in Jin's arms as he spoke to him in Korean.

"Get off me!" Sawyer said, giving him a push once Jin helped him out halfway. Hurley stumbled backward, falling on Jin as Sawyer rolled out of the way. Jin held Hurley back from getting up as Sawyer stood, hair a disheveled and clothes covered in sand. "What the hell's the matter with you?" he yelled at him. "You're crazy!"

"I'm not crazy," Hurley said, breathing heavily.

With one last glare, Sawyer flipped his hair out of his face and walked away. "We'll take a break," Clementine told Sun. "I'll be back." She pointed in the direction Sawyer had gone.

Sun chuckled a little. "Okay," she said with a nod.

Clementine looked around, finding him near one of their water stores, running wet hands through his hair and letting sand fall out of it. They had two rainwater storages— one for drinking, the other for washing. The ocean didn't exactly make people feel the cleanest. "So," Clementine said, walking over to him as he washed the sand off his arms, "he just attacked you, huh?"

Sawyer rolled his eyes and sighed, then scooped more water into his hands. "Try to contain yourself, Sunshine." 

She held back a laugh. "What? I'm worried," she said, smiling. "You look like you got your ass kicked."

"Don't you got an adventure to get to?" He said, standing up tall. "I think Timmy fell down a well over that way."  He pointed toward the jungle.

Clementine just shook her head as he continued to brush sand off his shoulders. "Seriously, though, why would Hurley of all people—"

"I got no idea!" Sawyer snapped. "I didn't do nothing. He just Hulked out on me."

"For no reason at all?"

"Okay," he said, sighing. "You walk off and have yourself a nice, long giggle. But steer clear.  The man is crazy."

She was still smiling at him.  He glanced at her, then went back to what he was doing, but when he noticed she was still staring, he scooped up some water and flicked it at her, peppering her face with droplets.  "Hey! What was that for?"

"Wipe the smile off your face, hopefully," he said, tilting his head. 

Before he could step away, she reached her hand in the basin and splashed him back. It was barely any water, really, but she liked playing games with him. She smiled, proud of herself, and he took the towel he was holding and wiped it away.  "Need some help rebuilding your tent?" she asked him, as he tossed her the towel to wipe the droplets off her own face.

He looked at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was being serious, or just making another joke. Once he decided she was being genuine, he nodded. "Yeah," he said. He nodded toward his tent, and they walked together.

Sure, she had her own tent to work on, but that could wait. They still had a good many hours of daylight, and maybe after she helped out Sawyer, he'd help her, since that was how his head seemed to work. The first order of business was the structure— Hurley had tackled Sawyer right into it, knocking a few wood beams over as well as the tarp he had tied to it.  Once they had that fixed, they organized the inside, placing all of his belongings in their right place.  Together, it took them only an hour.  They had plenty of time to finish her tent, which was only a few yards away.

Sawyer reluctantly agreed to help her out. They chit-chatted the whole time, mostly about things like high school and how useless it was and how happy they were they both dropped out. They talked about when they learned to swim and how many pull ups they could do (once they could get down to the hatch together, the challenge was on) and their scores at the gun range and the conditioner they used to use. "I just use whatever the first thing at the drugstore is," Sawyer had said, brushing off the question.

"Yeah, right," Clementine chuckled.

Their relationship was still complicated, and neither of them were much for talking about their feelings, so instead, they brought up other topics, making sure there was not a single awkward silence in their time together. Sawyer hadn't pulled a move on her all day, and she assumed he was probably catching her hints. Maybe they were only ever meant to be friends. Maybe he really had only wanted her physically, and he only stopped going after her because he got what he wanted.

Their time together was finally starting to feel normal, like they'd known each other for ages. Even though she was still a little distant from the rest of the group, this relationship with Sawyer, whatever it was, gave her a warm feeling. He was the only one who could always make her smile.

— ◒ —

The next morning, there was excitement on the beach. Nothing exceptional had happened, really, but Charlie and Sayid had finished building their little dining area, shelves, canopy, and all, and everyone was helping organize the food onto the shelves. Clementine had donated her findings from the pallets to the group, while Sawyer had decided to keep his stash for himself. Clem wasn't surprised.

The shelf was probably the most important thing to happen to them in about a week. Between building dining tables, stocking food, organizing, and renovating tents, the island was becoming less of a shelter and more of a home. They'd been here for two months now, and there wasn't even a sign of rescue. No one had seen who dropped the pallets, the Dharma initiative seemed long gone, and not a soul knew where the hell they were. In all this hopelessness, it was nice to have a place to call home.

Some people, however, didn't think so.

"Hey, Clementine, right?" Clementine was retying a few knots on the roof of her tent that had loosened during the windy night. She looked up and found Bernard, Rose's husband, standing beside her. He was a stocky, older man with graying hair, a stubbly white beard, and kind blue eyes.

"Yeah," she said, turning to him. "What can I do you for, Bernard?"

"I'm actually gathering a few people, up by the tree line," he said, pointing in that direction. She saw a few people walking that way. "I've got an idea I want to share. Something that might hopefully get us out of here."

"Yeah?" Clementine said, raising her brows. "Sounds good."

"Bring anyone you can on the way," Bernard said, taking a few steps in the other direction. "Thanks."

She nodded and smiled, then walked toward the trees. She asked Claire and Aaron to come along as well. Sawyer was down by the water— Kate was helping him catch mussels by one of the rockier shores, something Clementine knew nothing about. A big group of the castaways had gathered by the edge of the jungle, waiting for Bernard. When he finally came up to them, he was happy to see the big group, and began speaking immediately to them.

"Okay, two months we've been on this island," he said, standing in the middle of them all. "Two months. And already we have a water trough, and we've got a... a food pantry, and people are taking showers in your hatch. Have you forgotten that we all crashed on this island? It's like none of you want to go home again."

"How can you say that?" Claire said. "Of course we wanna go home."

"Then why aren't we doing anything about it?"

"Dude, we, like, built a raft," Hurley said. Bernard turned to him. "But... it got blown up."

"Okay," Bernard said. "So what are we doing now?" He turned to continued looking at the small crowd. "That pallet of food had a parachute, which means a plane dropped it here, which means there are other places that fly over the island." He became enthusiastic, talking louder and with his hands. "So, we are gonna build a sign. A massive sign along the beach. So that way, if a plane flies over or... or a satellite takes pictures from up there, we want to make damn sure they know we're here, that they know about us."

"Maybe we should speak to Jack about this first," Rose said, unsure.

Bernard just stared at her for a second. "Well, do we have to run everything by Jack? I mean, he's not the president. He's... he's a doctor."

"You're a dentist," Rose added.

People chuckled a little at the husband and wife's squabble. Bernard cleared his throat. "Could I... could I speak to you for just a second?" he said, walking toward Rose. Claire and Clementine glanced at each other as the husband and wife walked away from the group.

"What do you think?" Clem asked her.

"I think it's a little... I don't know," Claire said. "Far-fetched, maybe. I mean, if planes were really passing over, if satellites were taking pictures, wouldn't they see the giant signal fire?"

"That's what I was thinking," she said. "And this seems like a lot of work to me," she said.

"What seems like a lot of work?"

Sawyer was walking up to the group, with a bucket made out of scrap metal and wires. He had a smile on his face as the two girls looked up at him. "Bernard wants to make a big sign on the beach," Claire explained. Aaron whined a little, and she began to steadily bounce him in her arms. "We were just thinking it sounds like a lot of labor."

"What's he gonna write?" Sawyer asked.

Clem shrugged. "I vote, 'help, we're stuck on an insane island.'"

"Might be a little wordy," Sawyer said.

"And really," Clem added, "who's going to see it?"

Sawyer nodded. "Sounds like a lot of work," he repeated.

"There you go," Claire said. Aaron whined again. "I've got to feed him," she said. "I'll see you guys later."

Clementine smiled at her, and she left, walking back to her tent. Some others of the group seemed to drift away as Bernard continued conversing with Rose. "How'd your little adventure go?" Clementine asked, looking inside the bucket. There was barely 10 mussels inside, and a few looked empty. He held it up.

"Great, as you can see," he said sarcastically. "We can have a feast."

She chuckled. "Yeah."

"You gonna help out Crocodile Dentist?" He gestured to Bernard.

She looked at the ground for a moment, then back up at him. "It would probably be the right thing to do," Clementine said.

"That so?"

"Yeah," she said. "But I also don't really want to."

Sawyer chuckled.

"I'm not really big on 'the right thing' anyway."

"Yeah," Sawyer said. "I know."

— ◒ —

Things weren't going the way Bernard wanted. He was almost too determined to finish the sign, having people haul giant rocks down to the beach from a lava field half a mile inland. From what she'd heard, it really was a hell of a lot of work, and he wasn't exactly being lenient with them. What was left of his team was slowly dwindling.

Jack and Kate had gone on an adventure to who knows where. According to Sawyer, he'd asked for Kate specifically, which sounded like a good sign to Clementine. She'd have to ask Kate about it when she got back. Now she was sitting by the tent, playing a memory game with herself by flipping cards over in the sand and trying to find the matches. Hurley came by a little while later— he was sweating, and had a bottle of water in his hands. Bernard really had been working them.

"Hey, Clementine," he said, taking a seat in front of her set of cards on the sand. "Whatcha doing?"

"Playing a game," she said, flipping over two cards. Six and a nine. She flipped them back over. "Want to help?"

"Sure," he said, sticking the water bottle in the sand next to him. They played for a few moments quietly before Hurley spoke up. "I actually wanted to ask you for some advice," he said. Seven and two. He flipped the cards back over.

"Sure," she said, glancing at him. "What's up?"

"Well, you seem to be the island's resident relationship expert," he said.

Clementine looked up at him, brows furrowed. "Me?"

"Well, yeah," he said, shrugging. Two nines. He left them face up. "I mean, you're the only one who's got things working out for you. Claire and Charlie aren't doing so great, Kate and Jack.... I don't know what's going on with them, and Rose and Bernard are a little occupied with each other right now. But you and Sawyer are doing pretty okay."

Clementine bit her lip. "I guess," she said. "I don't know."

"I kissed Libby yesterday," he said. "Or maybe she kissed me. I don't know."

"You did?" she said. "Hurley, that's great! Good for you." She leaned over and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, glancing down, then back up to her. "I just... I don't really know what the next step is, y'know? I've never really... I've never done this before."

"I think you're doing just fine," she said. Four and eight. "I can tell she really likes you."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Clementine said. Libby was always around him, and they took a walk down the beach every morning together, laughing about something or the next. When she first got to their side of the island, Libby didn't smile much, but after she and Hurley became friends, her smile made regular appearances. "She's happy when she's with you."

"See, I knew girls were better at this stuff," Hurley said. "But I need something to go off of. What next?"

"Next?"

"Well, I can't exactly take her out to dinner," Hurley said, gesturing around.

"Spend time with her, then," Clementine said. "Any way you can. Annoyance and persistence tends to work on Sawyer, but I think if you keep doing what you're doing, you'll be just fine."

"You think?" Hurley said, raising his brows.

"Yeah," Clementine said. "She likes you. Anything you do, she'll like that too."

"Thanks, Clementine," Hurley said. He stood, grabbing his water bottle.

She nodded. "Sure."

"And I think you and Sawyer..." He thought for a second, unsure what exactly to say. "You're... um..." He bit his lip, then his brows raised with an idea. "You make a good couple."

She smiled weakly. "Thanks, Hurley."

— ◒ —

By nightfall, Bernard gave up on his project at the behest of his wife. Having only finished half of the first letter of "SOS," he seemed quite glad to do so. Clementine didn't know what it was that changed his mind, but he and Rose seemed to be getting along much better than they had this morning.

Kate and Jack weren't back from their trek yet, but Clementine wasn't worried.  She had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with whatever was going on down in the hatch. Things on the beach were calm and quiet, and even Locke had come up from underground for a while. He was on crutches from his injury a few days ago, and probably would be for a few more weeks.  She hadn't talked to him— he'd looked a little upset, like he wanted to be on his own— but she really was curious as to what was happening down there.

She hadn't seen Ana Lucia in a bit, which meant she was hanging out down there, too. Sayid knew, and maybe Charlie, since the three of them had gone on their adventure together.  Kate definitely knew now— Jack had probably told her.  She considered asking Charlie, but he seemed to occupy all of his time with Eko up in a clearing by the tree line where he'd set the fire. They were building something, though Clementine didn't have any idea what it was.

It was getting late. Dinner had consisted of fish and corn from one of the big Dharma cans, which was quite a feast compared to what they'd always eaten. They actually had salt and pepper now, which was nice, too. Now she was sitting by one of the campfires alone with her thoughts. As usual, her mind seemed to drift to Sawyer as she watched the flames dance. She thought about what Hurley had told her— that she and Sawyer, at least to any outsiders, actually seemed to be working out. That they made a good couple.

It had almost unsettled her.

She stood up, deciding she needed to speak to him. Sawyer was sitting just outside his tent on his airplane seat, tinkering with his glasses. "Hey," she said, stopping in front of him with her hands in her pockets.

"Hey yourself," he said.

"I wanted to, um..." she began, taking a seat next to him, "I wanted to ask you something."

"I told you my hair is natural," Sawyer said jokingly.

She sighed, rolling her eyes playfully. "I'm trying to be serious with you, James."

"Alright, alright," he said. "Shoot."

"I just..." She exhaled, moving a little closer to him. "This relationship that we're— we were doing. Did you even want to?"

Sawyer furrowed his brows. "What does it matter what I wanted?"

"I want to know, James," she asserted. "Did you want to?"

He sighed, glancing down at the sand. "Sure I wanted to," he said. "It's an island. What else is there to do?"

She tilted her head. "So you wanted a relationship because you're bored?"

He sighed. "God, Clementine, what do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth, James. I want the truth."

"Whatever you want to hear. That's the truth." 

She huffed. "You don't understand. You—"

"You're right, Clementine. I don't understand." He stood up, putting his glasses in his shirt pocket. She mirrored his actions, following him into his tent as he continued talking. "I don't understand why you're here right now, I don't understand why you slept with me... I mean, Jack's not taken. Why not him? Or, hell, Charlie and Mother Goose were having it out. You could have picked him. And Sayid was available—"

"Don't," she cut him off, shaking her head. "Don't do that."

"Why, then? Why'd you pick me to involve in your insane game?" he said, pointing to himself and stepping toward her. "One day you're making out with me, the next we're making small talk like we haven't known each other for 2 months. What the hell is going on with you?"

"I just..." She shook her head, staring at him. Her eyes became glassy. "I don't know."

"You know."

There was a few moments of silence between them as she looked at the ground, digging her feet into the sand. Sawyer just waited. She could feel his glare, even in the darkness of his tent, the small fire some feet away bringing minimal light to the scene. Clem took a breath. "You were the one thing I knew could make me happy," she said, trying to hold back the lump in her throat. "After all of it, after everything, I thought that's what I needed." She looked up at him. "But I'm not sure anymore."

"Why?"

She bit her lip. "I don't deserve it," she said. "I'm not a good person, James. I don't deserve to be happy."

"Why, Clementine?" he insisted.

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter." Her voice was a whisper.

"No," he said. "No, it matters to me. I deserve to know why you changed your mind."

She took a shaky breath, then opened her mouth to say something. "I can't," she said. "I can't..."

"Don't you trust me?" he asked, taking a step closer. "After all this, you can't even give me the satisfaction of knowing why, all the sudden, we can't be together?"

"We were never together."

"Sure as hell felt like we were.  Don't dodge the question."

"I don't know!" she bursted, voice breaking. "I can't," she said, burying her face in her hands and rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry, she said. You didn't tell me. You didn't tell me if you ever wanted it, and if you did, I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry that I ever had feelings for you in the first place."

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, James," she said.

"So you're done?" he asked. "That's it?"

"I'm sorry," she said, slowly taking steps toward the entrance of the tent.

"You were the only thing I wanted, you know that?" he said. "And now I don't even know why I can't have it."

The tears fell out of her eyes. There was no stopping them. "I'm sorry."

And then she walked away.

Chapter Text

"There's a man in the hatch. That's what's been going on down there."

Clementine blinked. "What?"

It had already taken long enough for the news to get around to Clementine, and she just couldn't take not knowing anymore. So when Charlie finally came down the beach for a little supper break from his project with Eko (which so happened to be a church?) she immediately got ahold of him.

"They've got an Other," he said. "He's been trying to fool them into thinking he'd crashed here in a hot air balloon, that his name was Henry something-or-other. But he's not. He's one of them."

"How do you know?" Clementine asked.

"Well, Sayid tried, you know, working his magic," Charlie said, brows raised. "Didn't exactly work. He didn't change his story. So Sayid, Ana Lucia, and I went looking for the balloon. And we found it."

Clementine furrowed her brows.

"But Sayid wasn't convinced," Charlie continued. "Now, fake Henry had told us something about a wife he'd buried. So Sayid dug up the grave. And inside, instead of the woman he'd described, there was a dead man, and in his pocket, an ID with his photo on it. The guy in the hatch wasn't Henry. He killed Henry."

Her mouth was hanging open in shock. "So..." She shook her head, trying to get ahold of it all. "Where did you find this man? The Other?"

"I think Sayid and Rousseau found him. They keep him locked up in the armory."

Clem rubbed her forehead. "And that's it? They're just keeping him there until they know what to do with him?"

"Supposedly," Charlie said with a shrug. "I'm gonna get back to work. You need anything else, you come get me, yeah?" He picked up two mangoes and a bottle of water from the table for Eko.

"Yeah," she said. "Thanks, Charlie."

He gave her a nod, then walked back out toward the clearing.

Clementine pieced it all together in her head, leaning against their kitchen table. The Other had to have been down there for at least a week— maybe more. The news seemed to be slowly spreading around camp now. She wondered what Kate and Jack were doing out in the jungle, if they'd even gotten back yet. Maybe they'd arrived and they were down in the hatch now. The Others seemed much too smart to be captured. Had he meant to arrive in their camp? Was he collecting intel? Did he want something from them?

Clementine saw a chance to have her questions answered sooner than she thought.

She heard Sawyer shouting down the beach near his tent, and looked in that direction to see him talking directly to Jack, with Locke and Kate close by. Jack and Kate had backpacks on, and Locke was still on crutches. As she headed over, curious, she heard Kate speaking. "Just take us there, Sawyer, alright? Quit playing around."

"What's going on?" Clementine asked, taking a step up next to her.

"We need the guns," Jack said. He turned to James. "Now, Sawyer."

Clem sighed, and Sawyer stared at her. "James," she said, her eyes pleading with him.

"What, you think you're gonna get my sympathy vote?" he said. "You ain't in my head, so why don't you all just run along and play in the jungle?"

There was a click from beside them. Jack had turned the safety off his gun, loaded the chamber, and was pointing it right at Sawyer. "Take us to the guns," he said. "Now."

Sawyer reached behind his back, looking for his handgun, but his hands came up empty. He looked up slowly in realization. "Oh, that bitch," he said. He looked at Jack. "She stole my damn gun. Ana Lucia."

Kate and Clementine looked at each other, brows furrowed.

"Why would she need a gun?" Jack asked, still pointing the barrel right at James.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself.

"Jack," Locke said, staring at the ground in thought. "I need to tell you something."

— ◒ —

Suddenly, Clementine felt very involved.

Ana Lucia wasn't exactly best friends with Henry Gale (or whatever his real name was). Not only had the Others absolutely tormented her people on the north side of the island, but this morning, he'd attacked her, leaving her with a deep gash on her forehead and even deeper-seated anger. She was bringing him food, and he'd just jumped her, tightening hands around her neck. It was only when John came to the rescue that she finally got out of his grip. Locke didn't say why they didn't tell anyone, but it didn't matter now. The damage was done, and it sure seemed like Ana Lucia was going to kill him.

Clementine didn't really know why it mattered— shouldn't they kill him? He was an Other, after all. Kate and Jack informed her that they'd gone out into the jungle to make a trade with the Others, and while they hadn't spoken to any of them, they had come upon someone else in the jungle— Michael. He was down in the hatch right now, battered and bruised.

As they trotted through the jungle, the sky darkened. They could only go so quickly as night fell upon them, especially with John on crutches.

"What were you thinking, John?" Jack asked him, after his long winded explanation. Kate and Sawyer had lit torches, and they were coming close to the entrance to the hatch.

"Jack, leave him alone," Kate said.

"No, Jack, don't leave him alone," Sawyer argued.

"Shut it, Sawyer. If Ana hadn't lifted your gun—"

"Oh, ain't that swell," Sawyer said, throwing up his free hand and turning to face Jack, who stood just behind him. Jack just walked right ahead, and they kept going. "Gimpy McCrutch over here covers up that The Artist Formerly Known as Henry Gale tried to strangle your little amiga, and suddenly it's on me when she goes vigilante."

Jack stopped, turning to face Sawyer. "How about you go back to the beach?" he said, frustrated.

"Hey," Clementine said. "Enough. Both of you."

They were here now. But before they could even open the doors, they seemed to creak all on their own, and someone stumbled out of them, groaning— Michael really was back, and he wasn't doing well. "Michael. Hey!" Jack said, rushing over to him. He was on the ground, holding his arm. Sawyer, too, rushed over, handing his torch to Clementine.

"He shot me," Michael said, out of breath.

"Who?" Jack said.

"He's gone! He ran out."

"Go!" he told Kate, who was nearing the hatch doors. "I got him." She rushed down as Jack placed a flashlight in his mouth and began checking Michael's wound. Locke and Sawyer followed Kate into the hatch.

"I was sleeping, and," he took a deep breath, "I heard gunshots. I, I got up, I came out of the bedroom, and... and there was this guy. He had a gun, and— and..." He trailed off, gasping and spluttering for air. Jack had a towel to his wound.

"Come on, we gotta get you up, alright?" Jack said, lifting Michael.

Clementine was bent down beside them, and she was about to offer when there was another voice. "Let me help you." The three of them looked up, finding Eko standing over them, calm as ever. He was wearing a tattered white shirt and had a big stick strapped to his belt, with carvings all along the top of it.

"Eko," said Jack. "Okay. You grab the other side." Clementine went first, and they followed her down the stairs and into the dark hatch. There were few lights on, and any sources were dim and yellow. Upon entering the main living area, Clementine froze in shock, cupping a hand over her mouth.

The old leather couch was smothered in blood, Ana Lucia lying on top of it with eyes wide open. She'd been shot right in the chest, and her position, sitting slumped on the couch, showed no sign of a struggle. Kate was sitting next to her, checking her pulse. On the complete opposite side of the room was Sawyer, looking over a blonde with a puddle of blood underneath her. Her eyes were closed, and she had a blanket in her hand. Libby.

Eko and Jack walked Michael over to the dining bench, where he took a heavy seat. Eko stared in disbelief, and Jack looked over at Kate. "She's dead," she said. Then they all looked at Sawyer.

Suddenly, there was a cough and a moan. Libby convulsed, spitting dark blood and beginning to splutter and sob. Jack ran over as Clementine stepped back in shock. Libby was alive.

"We've gotta get her up," Jack said, as Sawyer stood and brushed the bloody splatter off himself. Clementine ran over. "We've gotta get her up to the back room, okay?"

Clem nodded, placing a hand under her shoulders as Jack took her legs. Kate, too, rushed over, and they took Libby into the bedroom and laid her on the bottom bunk. She continued to cough blood and wheeze. Her wound was deep in her chest, and she clawed at it weakly, her other hand lying beside her.

They laid her there, and she continued to shake. Her voice trembled, and she whimpered, her eyes filled with fear. "She's in shock," Jack said, leaning over her and beginning to care for the deep wound in her chest. "Alright, we gotta keep pressure on this one," he said, and Kate immediately came to their aid, placing her hands on the towels over the wound.

"Can you do anything?" Kate asked him. He didn't reply, and continued to search through the supplies. "Jack," she said.

"I heard you," he said quietly. "Just keep pressure on her, okay?" He backed away, off the bed and out of the room.

"We're doing what we can, Libby," Clementine said, pushing hair out of her face. "Okay?"

Her eyes began to flutter. Kate was still putting pressure on the wound, but whatever pain Libby was experiencing must have been too agonizing, because she was losing consciousness.  The shaking slowed, but as she began to fall under, did not stop. Kate kept pressure. "Get Jack," she said, glancing at the door. Clementine nodded, then stepped outside.

"We can pick up the trail," Jack was saying, "catch up to him." He toweled Libby's blood off his hands.

Sawyer turned to him. "Man's got a head start, a gun, he ain't—"

"He shot 3 of our people!" Jack replied. "One of them is dead, one of—"

"And who's gonna take care of Libby while you're off playing Daniel Boone?"

Jack did not reply.

Eko walked up to them both. "I will go," he said. He then looked at Locke, who was standing on the other side of the room. "John, you have tracking experience, yes?"

"Yeah."

"We will find his trail together," Eko said calmly.

"You find anything, anything, you come right back here, and we figure out what we're gonna do next together," Jack told them both.

Eko walked over to John, giving a slight nod to Jack. "Let's go, John," he told him. Locke smiled, and with that, they turned and headed up and out of the hatch. Clementine looked at Jack. "She's unconscious," she told him. "Still shaking." Jack nodded, then walked into the bedroom. Clementine followed him, but not before giving a sorry glance to Sawyer. He was blank faced, staring into her eyes. After another second, she left.

— ◒ —

It had been hours now. They'd taken Ana Lucia off the couch and placed her in the armory with a blanket covering her body. Libby was still in the bedroom, and Jack had been in there with her for a while now. There was no hospital. No other doctors. Sawyer had given him all the medical supplies. There was only so much he could do.

Eko and Locke still were not back, and their group was on edge. To occupy herself, Clementine was attempting to clean the blood off the leather couch. She looked through every cabinet and drawer, trying to find some cleaning fluid that could take it out. While much of it had been scrubbed away, dry, red remnants still filled the crevices. "It's not gonna come out, Clementine," Sawyer had told her, watching her tire herself scrubbing at the fabric. She ignored him. The bullet hadn't gone through Ana, but it hadn't mattered. How could they clean this mess?

"Where the hell are they?" Jack was saying, walking toward the sink as he came out of the bedroom. Once again, his hands were covered in blood.

"Just... calm down," Kate said tiredly. "Finding his trail in the dark is not gonna be easy. They'll be back."

Jack turned on the water and washed his hands. "Jack," Michael said. "She say anything? Libby?

Jack shook his head. "She's still unconscious." He turned the water off, shaking his hands dry. "The bleeding's stopped."

Clementine looked up from her scrubbing of the couch cushions. "That's good, right?"

Jack turned to look at her. "No," he said quietly. "It's not good."

Clem looked down. Everyone was quiet.

"And there's nothing you can..." Michael added quietly.

"I can make her comfortable," Jack said, leaning over the counter. "But I don't have what I need." He looked over at Sawyer, who was sitting across from Michael at the dining booth.

"Why are you looking at me? I gave you all the damn meds two days ago."

"The heroin, Sawyer," Jack said.

Sawyer sighed, then stood up. "Give me 20 minutes." He began walking toward the exit.

Clementine stood up. "I can—"

"Kate's gonna go with you," Jack said, cutting her off.

Sawyer looked over at him. "It doesn't take two people to carry—"

"Kate is going with you," Jack repeated, firmer this time.

"What are you talking about?" Kate said. "Why would he need me to go with him?"

"Jacko here knows his heroin's in my stash," Sawyer said, "with the guns. So I can either show you where it's at or let poor Libby suffer." He turned to Jack, brows furrowed sharply in frustration. "That pretty much it, Doc?"

"Yeah," said Jack quickly. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Let's go, Freckles," Sawyer said, already halfway to the airlock. Kate glanced at Clementine, then followed Sawyer out.

Not long after that, a slow, steady beep began to sound throughout the hatch. Clementine took care of it, putting the numbers into the computer and pressing execute. At some point after that, she fell into a long-awaited, dreamless sleep, there on the couch she'd been tirelessly scrubbing and picking at for the past hours.

— ◒ —

She woke up to the sound of breaking glass. 

She wasn't sure how long she'd been out, but Sawyer and Kate were back, and they'd brought the heroin with them. Jack had cracked open the Virgin Mary statue on the dining table, and could administer the heroin to her now.  There was no doubt now that Libby would die. She was bleeding internally, and there was nothing Jack could do to stop it.  But he could at least take the pain away.

Clementine looked up, and Kate glanced at her. Slowly, she stood and walked over to the table. Jack took the small bags of the drug into his hand, then loosened one of the rubber bands around the top and opened it. He smelled the components, then stood. "When she..." Clem bit her lip. "Is she gonna feel it?"

Jack looked at her, sorrow in his eyes. "I don't know," he said. "I hope not."

Clementine let a breath out of her nose, then looked down. Kate put a hand on her shoulder.

When Clementine turned around, hearing Michael speaking with someone else, she saw Hurley sitting on the computer room floor. He looked grieved and anxious, arms crossed over his chest. Clementine walked over there and took a seat next to him. The floor was cold underneath her, and the computer room was dark and eerie. Had the sun even risen yet? God, she hated it down here.

"I'm sorry, Hurley," she said, looking at her feet as she crossed her legs.

"Yeah," Hurley said. "Thanks."

"I hate this place," Clementine said.

Hurley looked around the room. The numbers flickered— 16 minutes.

"This island," Clementine corrected. "Nothing good ever comes from this place."

"That's not true," Hurley said quietly, shaking his head. "Sometimes good things happen. Sometimes bad things happen. I just wish..." He sniffed. "I wish they didn't have to happen to Libby."

"Yeah," Clem said breathily, putting a hand on his back. "Yeah."

"Thanks for being here," he said.

She looked up at him, smiling weakly. "I know you'd do it for me."

"I think I..." Hurley exhaled. "I really liked her," he said. "I really liked being with her."

Clementine pursed her lips, holding back the feeling in her throat. Everything here was too much. Boone, then Shannon, now Libby and Ana Lucia. She hadn't even been that close to either of them, but of all the things, this was a tragedy. This island never let them be happy for long.

"I'm gonna see her," Hurley said, standing. "Maybe I..." he trailed off.

Clementine nodded. "Go," she told him softly, standing up. He left, walking toward the bedroom. Clementine took a seat at the dining table, staring at the broken pieces of ceramic from the statue Jack had cracked open. Mentally, she placed the pieces back together in her head. Time passed quickly, and she was finally pushed out of the trance upon hearing sobs from the bedroom. It was Hurley. Jack walked out, a solemn look on his face.

Everyone turned to him. He just looked down. All was quiet except for Hurley's loud cries. Clementine crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her biceps tight. It was some form of self-comfort, something to keep the emotions away. She could feel her nails digging into her skin.

Did she even deserve to be upset over this? Maybe it was karma coming back to haunt her. Maybe she'd be stuck here forever, going to funerals for all of these people until she was the last one left. She killed so many people without blinking, and yet, here, every death, even of those she didn't know, hit her like a wall, a hard smack in the head of emotions. And she felt like she had to hold them back.

She hadn't even realized she'd begun to sob quietly, tears streaming down her face. Heavy footsteps moved in her direction, and Sawyer sat on the bench right next to her.  She turned away from him, but instead of leaving her alone, James wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in. She decided not to try and escape, weak from lack of quality sleep, and couldn't help but cry more when she felt his hand on top of her head. James pulled her in close, and she sobbed into his arm as his hand gently ran through her hair. She felt his head on top of hers.

Libby was gone now. It had to stop. None of them could take any more of this death and destruction. And the root cause, the one thing it could all be traced back to, was them. It was then that Clementine decided— the Others all deserved to die.

Chapter Text

"How many?"

"Rifles and pistols? Eleven total."

"That's it?"

"That's it. In case you forgot, they took five of 'em right off us."

Jack faced Michael. "How long would it take us to get to their camp?"

"We leave now, move fast? Middle of the night tomorrow," he said. "Look, they have no idea I know where they are. They won't be expecting us. So we get the guns, and we go. Right now, just the six of us."

"No," Jack argued. "No, six is not enough. You said there's at least 20 of them, they've got our guns, and we're not even sure if what you saw was—"

"Hey, I know what I saw!" Michael said, face scrunching in frustration. "We take too many people, they'll hear us coming. I'm not taking a damn army across the island, Jack."

Jack stepped closer to him, lowering his tone. "You sure you're in the best position to be making decisions for all of us right now?"

"You got a son, Jack?"

"They're dead!" Hurley shouted. It was silent as everyone turned to face him. Hurley did not shout, and he'd never gotten angry at them. "Ana Lucia and Libby are dead. I mean, we haven't even buried them yet!"

Jack nodded, then walked over to Hurley, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Me and you will take Libby, okay?" he said softly.

Hurley walked into the room where their wrapped corpses had been placed on bamboo stretchers. Jack looked at Clementine. "Can you..." he asked her.

She knew what he was going to ask. "Yeah, of course."

"Sawyer, would you..."

"Yeah," he said.

They went into the room and each picked up a side, taking Ana Lucia's body up and out of the hatch. As they left, they stepped around Libby's blood on the floor, which Clementine made a mental note of to clean later. Jack and Hurley followed them out, then finally Kate. Michael stayed behind in the hatch— someone would have to press the button.

It was morning now. They would be buried at sunset.

— ◒ —

Clementine, Kate, and Hurley dug their graves as the sun beamed down on them from above. It was a disgustingly nice day, one they all might have enjoyed if it weren't for the circumstances. The waves were calm and sad, and upon hearing the news, the usual morning bustle of the camp turned to a slow, mopey afternoon. The celebration of Michael being back simply did not equal their mourning for the two women. The three of them only took a short break to eat lunch, and Charlie came by and comforted Hurley while Clem and Kate ate quietly. Then they went back to digging.

Clem assisted Hurley, who was a little slower with the shovel than Kate. They dug silently, pausing every so often to wipe sweat off their foreheads. Clem had her hair tied back in a knot. Sunset was approaching now, and so was six feet. Maybe a few more inches to go, and she and Hurley would be finished.

Jack and Sawyer would be collecting the guns and loading them now— his hiding spot had been right underneath them the whole time, buried underneath the sand in his tent.  I should've known, Clementine had thought. Eko and Locke had apparently arrived back sometime earlier, with no news or findings. Yet, they'd been gone over 8 hours. But they had bigger things to worry about right now.

Michael came by as they continued to dig, the sun lowering in the sky. His arm was in a sling now, and he quietly picked up one of the shovels, then began helping Kate dig.  "Jack fill you in on the plan?" he asked her.

Kate turned to him, pushing hair out of her face. "What plan?" she asked.

"We're leaving first thing tomorrow," Michael said, glancing at Kate, then to Clem and Hurley. "Back across the island to their camp."

"Okay," Kate said.

"What about you guys?" he said, looking at Hurley and Clementine. "You coming?"

"Yeah," Clementine said.

"Hurley?" Michael asked.

He paused his digging. "Why would I wanna go?" he asked.

Michael stared at him. "Because they killed her," he said.

"Michael," Kate scolded, "come on."

Michael didn't seem to take the hint. "What d'you say, Hugo?"

Hurley looked up at him again. "I'm sorry about Walt, dude," he said, exhaustion in his tone, "but I'm not coming."

Michael looked at him. His tone got louder. "You're sorry about—"

"Michael," Kate said loudly, interrupting him. They stared at each other. Don't, her face told him. Michael looked down, then nodded. They were silent, and continued to dig.

"Hugo," Clementine repeated. Hurley glanced up at her, but didn't stop throwing sand out of the grave. "That your name?" she asked.

"Yeah," Hurley said quietly. "Hurley's just a nickname. Like yours."

Clementine nodded.

"You think we're gonna be done by sunset?" Hurley said, looking up at the sky. Slowly, the sun was lowering beneath the trees, and would meet the water in the west soon.

"Yeah," Clem said. "We will." She picked up another scoop of sand and tossed it out of the deep hole.

As the sky turned shades of orange and rays of light danced over the calm water, people began to gather. Michael, Kate, Clementine, and Hurley lowered the bodies into the graves. It was solemn and quiet as the survivors surrounded the scene. Jack waited for everyone to arrive before starting. Their graveyard was quickly filling up.

Clementine had only ever attended one funeral before this. She was quite sure she might never go to one again— she didn't deserve to mourn her dead, especially since she'd created so much loss on her own. But in the past 2 months, she'd attended more funerals than she ever could have thought. And some horrible feeling told her the devastation would not be over for a very long time.

"Ana Lucia Cortez was..." Jack paused as he continued to look down into her grave. "Before we crashed, she was a police officer. I don't think it was easy for her, being here, but I think she did the best she could. She was a woman of few words and I'm gonna follow her example." There was a pause. "Rest in peace, Ana." Jack glanced at Michael, then back down at her covered body.

They all waited for Hurley to begin. He took a few seconds to collect himself, taking a deep breath before beginning. He was usually the light in these sorts of events, the hope and happiness for all the castaways. He put smiles back on their faces, and spoke proudly about the dead. But today, he was discouraged, and his words were careful and slow.

"Libby was..." He paused. "She was—" He cut himself off, then sniffled. "She..." he said quietly. Kate put a hand on his back. Clementine looked down into her grave. She didn't deserve this. "Libby was a psychologist," Hurley said finally, his voice breaking. "Or... a psychiatrist. One of those." His voice was strained. "Either way, she probably helped a lot of people. She helped me." Clementine swallowed. She took a small step closer to Sawyer. "She was my friend," Hugo continued. "It's not fair that this happened to her. It's not." Hurley then looked over at Michael. For a short moment, his sadness turned to anger. "I'm going with you," he told him. Then he looked back down at her grave, face scrunching in sadness and agony. "Goodbye, Libby."

Then he backed away. There was a moment of silence for their dead, and they all stared down into the graves at their covered bodies. The wind blew their hair around, chilling their arms. Clementine took another step closer to James, and felt a warm hand intertwine with hers. Her body was still cold from the breeze, but this was enough. In the silence, she heard someone mutter. "Boat."

They awkwardly glanced at Sun, whose eyes were wide as she stared at the water. "Boat!" she repeated, pointing. The group's heads turned as one. Sun was not delusional. Everyone's mouths hung open as they faced the horizon, a tall white sailboat only about 500 feet in the distance. The silence was shocking.

"Are we rescued? Are we saved?" Charlie said. As if on cue, the entire group, including him, began to yell, running down the beach and waving their arms. "Hey!" "Help!" People whistled and screamed, and some were even smiling. James let go of Clementine's hand, running towards the water with Jack and Sayid. When they reached the shore, they took their shoes, shirts, and belts off, then jumped right into the water and began swimming toward the boat. Everyone watched them. Kate had ran and grabbed Hurley's binoculars.

"You see anything?" he asked her.

"No," she replied.

"Maybe it's a trap," Charlie said.

"What do you mean, a trap?" Hurley added.

In a few minutes, Jack, Sawyer, and Sayid had reached the boat. Kate hadn't seen anyone on the deck, and no one came on as Jack, Sayid, and Sawyer all climbed up onto the sailboat. Clementine couldn't see much— just their small, distant figures walking on the deck in the distance. After a minute, they all seemed to gather, staring at something below them. "Something's going on," Kate said. "They've got their guns out."

There was a few more minutes of everyone patiently watching. The three men lowered their guns, and Jack went down into the galley, and came up and out of it with a fourth man, who stumbled onto the deck. There were mutters. "Who is he?" "Can anyone see?" "Do they know him?" Kate described him— shoulder-length brown hair, short beard, a little skinny, wearing a loose polo shirt. He mostly spoke with Jack, and had a rifle slung on his back and a bottle of some sort of alcohol in his hand. "Where did he come from?" "Are they coming here?" "Guys, who is he?"

"Desmond," Locke spoke up. Everyone stared at him, standing at the back of the group and listening to everything they were saying. He was off his crutches and out of the splints, healed of his fracture oddly quickly. Hadn't it only been a week? "That would be Desmond," Locke finished, looking out upon the water as the four men began to steer the boat to shore.

— ◒ —

Desmond Hume was the man who had been living in the hatch for the past years, the one that had escaped when they opened it up. The sailboat was the way he'd come to the island, and somehow, he'd failed to mention he had it. He had never meant to come back to the island, having sailed for 2 and a half weeks, but somehow, he made it back, pissed drunk and just about out of his mind.

Morning came upon them after a restless night. Clem, Kate, Jack, Hurley, James, and Michael were just about to set off, bags packed and guns being handed out. First Michael, then Hurley, who refused it, saying, "No way. If I take that, I'm gonna kill someone."

Jack then offered the silver handgun to Sawyer, who stuffed it into the waist of his pants. "Ain't that the point?" he asked.

"I thought the point was to get Walt back," Hurley said, as Jack handed a gun over to Clementine. The final one went to Kate, who looked at it, preoccupied. 

"What's the matter?" Jack asked her.

"All that stuff we found in the medical station," Kate said. "Costumes, makeup, fake beards... What if these people just want us to think they're hillbillies?"

"Listen," said Michael immediately. "Listen, I was there. I saw them. They are hillbillies. They live in huts, they eat fish, they're probably more scared than we are, and they have no idea we're on our way."

Kate and Jack just looked at him for a moment. "Alright," said Sawyer, cutting into the silence. "Enough jibber-jabber. Let's roll." And so they left.

— ◒ —

It was a long walk through some of the most lush parts of the jungle. There was still quite a way to go, but Clementine felt sluggish and impatient. They wouldn't arrive until tomorrow morning— maybe the afternoon, if they kept at this pace. Unluckily, she wasn't bored for much longer.

As they paced through the jungle, there was a rustling in the bushes nearby. Everyone raised their guns, turning safeties off and looking through scopes to try and find the source of the movement. It was deafeningly quiet, and they took a few steps forward as a group. Suddenly, something screeched, and they ducked as a giant green bird flew over their heads. It flapped and screeched again as it rose up to the sky. There was clicking. Someone was firing their gun, and nothing was coming out of it. The bird was gone.

"Did that bird just say my name?" Hurley asked.

Everyone looked at him for a second, confused. "Yeah, it did," Sawyer said. "Right before it crapped gold."

Michael was looking at his gun, brows furrowed. He unloaded the magazine from the bottom, and there was nothing inside. Jack was looking over at him, watching carefully. "Sorry man," he said. "Guess I forgot to load that one. Wanna hand me the mag?" Michael said nothing as he handed it over to him, and Jack took his backpack and took the ammo out from inside. Once they were finished, the group continued walking.

After more of an uneventful trek, they decided to make camp for the night. As she poked at the fire, Sawyer took a seat next to her.  He silently took his bag off his shoulders and rummaged through it, pulling out something wrapped in white foil. "Dharma NutraBar?" he offered her quietly.  She sat up, then looked at him, smiling weakly. "Thanks," she said, taking it. It was the first word she'd said to him since their fight. Was that really only two nights ago? It felt like an eternity.

"Yeah," he said, taking out another and opening it. They quietly (and awkwardly) ate their dinner together, and once she was halfway through that incredibly stale protein bar, Clementine just couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry," she blurted.

Sawyer sighed, as if he knew it was coming. "You told me that already."

"I'm just not ready, James," she said to him. "I don't deserve it."

"Yeah," he said. "I've heard it all. You don't need to tell me twice, alright? I got it. You don't deserve to be happy. What do you want me to say, Clementine?"

"You don't have to say anything. I just..." She pursed her lips, looking down at the ground. "I needed you to know I was sorry."

He huffed. "Yeah, well... I got it. Thanks."

"James, please," she said.

"Would you stop calling me that?" he said, whipping his head around to face her. "Don't go taking it out on me 'cause you feel guilty."

She furrowed her brows. "Guilty?" she repeated. Her tone was loud, and Kate glanced at the two of them. Clem lowered her voice. "I am not guilty."

"Like hell you aren't," he said. "Only reason you slept with me is cause I did a bad thing, and you finally felt like you could get what you wanted.  Suddenly I'm a little liked again, and you went and decided you didn't deserve me anymore. Make up your damn mind, Clementine. Do you want this or not?"

She scoffed. "What do you care?" she asked him. "You said you did it cause you were bored.  You couldn't care less what I do. Whether I live or die."

Sawyer shook his head. "I never said that. You're not the only one your decisions affect, alright? Maybe try and think about someone else for once."

"What, like you do?"

Sawyer glared at her. They were quiet for a few moments, trying to decipher the emotional, frustrated, angry look in the other's eyes.  What did it matter to Sawyer?

Finally, he sighed. "I don't care about whatever damn tortured past you got, alright? I don't care what you did.  No one's gonna tell me what I do or don't deserve. We all done bad things. Suddenly I sink to your level, and I'm back in the game?  You can't do that. You don't get to change your mind."

"That's not why I did it."

"Why, then?"

"I did it because I have feelings for you. And I didn't change my mind, alright? I still have feelings for you."

"Then what in hell did you do to make you feel like you didn't deserve it anymore?"

"It's not... I never should have slept with you. I'm sorry, okay? How many times do I have to say it?"

"Never, huh?"  He looked down at the ground, brows raised.

"I didn't mean it like that, Sawyer."

"No," he said shaking his head. "That's fine. Doesn't matter. Don't give me an explanation. I never really cared that much anyway."

"Sawyer."

He stood up. "I'll see you around, alright? Have a good sleep."

And she was left sitting there alone by the fire.

— ◒ —

They set off immediately in the morning. By late afternoon, they were walking by a rough stream of flowing fresh water, through lush flora and fauna on a thin platform beside the water. They walked in a single file. "So, these Others," Sawyer was saying to Michael, "you think they're left over from the Dharma folk?"

"I don't know, man," Michael told him.

"My theory? They're aliens," Sawyer said. "That's why they use the fake beards. Their heads, made of 'plasthetic.'"

"Prosthetic, dude," Hurley corrected.

"You can't even spell, and now you're correcting me?"

They continued walking along the stream. Suddenly, Clementine heard three gunshots close by. She, Michael, Jack, and Hurley ducked, then glanced around to find the source— Kate and Sawyer had their guns pointed across the stream at something, and were still firing, perched behind some rocks. Jack moved forward, keeping cover. There were figures on the platform across the way— two, by the looks of it. Sawyer and Kate continued shooting— careful, calculated shots, and Sawyer landed one. A man wearing loose, tattered clothing fell down the side of the platform, and the other one continued to run.

"He's getting away!" Kate said, as the man moved beyond their range, sprinting. The group walked through the stream and toward the man lying lifeless on the ground. Jack bent over him, but Kate interrupted. "He's dead. We have to find the other one!" She began stepping up the rocks.

"No," Jack said.

"I'm going. Sawyer—"

"What?" Clem added. "Jack, he's going to—"

"I said no!"

"You crazy?" Sawyer said, stepping toward him angrily.

"They're gonna know we're coming!"

"We let him go, he'll warn them!"

"It doesn't matter if we catch him now!" Jack shouted over both their voices.

Everyone glared at him, angry and confused. Jack stared right at Michael. "They've already been warned."

Michael looked up at Jack, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

"What d'you mean, 'warned?'" Sawyer asked.

Jack stood up, taking a few steps toward the man. "Why don't you tell them, Michael?" he said to him.

"Jack..." Kate said warily.

Michael shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop lying!" Jack shouted. He breathed heavily. "Tell them."

"Tell them what? I—"

Jack grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him up against a tree. "I know what you're doing, Michael!" he yelled through his teeth. "Now, tell them the truth!"

"Jack..."

"Tell them!"

Michael's lip seemed to tremble. "It was the only way," he said, his voice breaking.

Clem's eyes widened.

"They gave me a list," Michael continued.

"What list?" Jack interrogated, still holding him against the tree trunk.

"It had your names on it." Still holding him by his clothes, Jack took a step back. His lips were pursed in anger. "I had to bring all five of you back, or they said I'd never see my son again!" Jack let go.

"Who are they?" he said.

"It's like I said," Michael began, voice hoarse. "They— they live in a camp with huts, and..." Jack took Michael's gun from his belt. "I swear, that's it!"

"You let Henry go?" Kate asked.

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He simply nodded.

"Did you kill them?" Hurley asked quietly. "Ana Lucia? And Libby?"

Michael looked down at the ground.

"Did you?" Hurley persisted.

"I had to," he whispered. "I... I—" He stuttered, and didn't look Hurley in the eyes. "I couldn't find any other way, and— and Libby was a mistake." His voice was breaking. "I—" He stuttered again. "I didn't have time to think."

Everyone was just staring at him in shock. He'd done it all. He'd let Henry go, shot both of those women, took their lives away from them, all for his own gain. But in her sheer disbelief at his betrayal, Clementine realized something. How was she any different from him?

"But if you did have time..." Hurley said, "you still would've killed her, right?"

"I'm sorry," Michael said. "You understand. I am sorry. I'm sorry... I..." He looked up at them all. "It's my son!"

Hurley stood up. "I'm going back," he said.

"No, Hurley," Jack said, following him. "Hurley, you can't."

"We were all gonna get killed and you knew it!" Hurley said, teeth grit. "And you let us come anyway."

"It's too late to go back now, Hurley." Jack shook his head. "We already caught them following us once, if they don't believe that we trust Michael, they'll kill us all!" He glanced at the rest of them, then back at Hurley. "I'm sorry that I didn't say anything. But you have to know that I would never bring you out here if I didn't have a plan!" He was yelling again, looking around at the group up on the rocks.

"What plan?"

Chapter Text

They let Michael lead them to their doom, hoping Jack's plan would work out. Desmond must have been some sort of guardian angel, because his boat was the centerpiece of the plan. Sayid, along with some help, would bring it around and flank them from the water. He'd put up a smoke signal for Jack and the others once he arrived. This time, they wouldn't know what hit them. They can't possibly be ready for this.

They continued their trek high into the valleys of the island's lush mountains. It's too bad this place loved to torture them all, because it was gorgeous. Their walk was silent, and they continued to follow Michael's lead.  As they came out of a small tree grove in the wide valley, Clementine heard Kate call Jack's name, worry lacing her tone.  They all followed her gaze, stopping.  She was looking at something down in the valley— a big pile of what looked like trash, thousands of thousands of some sort of plastic thing. "What the hell?" Clementine muttered.

Kate began stepping down toward it, upon closer look, this trash was all the same thing, over and over. A clear, plastic tube with a blue screw top on both sides.  And every single one had that octagonal Dharma logo printed on it. Standing tall above the pile was a bent pipe whose mouth looked just the right size to spit them out. "What are they?" Hurley asked. Kate opened one up. Inside was a composition notebook with the Dharma logo inside.

"It's handwritten," said Kate flipping through it, brows furrowed. "And it's all filled, the whole book. They're journal entries." She read out loud. "0400. SR moves ping-pong table again. 0415. Takes a shower. What is this?"

"Hey Doc?" Sawyer called.  "What'd you say Sayid's signal was gonna be when the coast was clear to hit that beach party?"

Everyone's heads turned. A tall black plume of smoke rose over the mountains and trees, far in the distance.

"That means he found them, right?" Clem asked.

"That's miles from here," Jack muttered. He turned to look at Michael, taking his gun out of his waistband. "Where were you taking us?" he asked accusatorially.

"What?" Michael said.

"Sayid said he'd light the signal so we could meet him at the shore," Jack continued, stepping towards him. "Why aren't we going to the beach?"

"We are headed to the—!"

"We're nowhere near the beach!" Jack yelled.

"Look, I had to!"

"What?!"

"I—"

Then there was a sound, a sharp whisper. Somebody— somebodies were muttering in the distance. All of them had their guns out, but Clementine couldn't tell where exactly it was all coming from, and she couldn't see anyone among the trees that surrounded the clearing. The noise seemed to surround them. Then— zzzip — something rushed past her, and she turned, wide eyed. Sawyer's hand flew to the back of his neck and he fell, groaning.

"Sawyer!" Clementine said, rushing to him. He began to shake and convulse, and there was a small dart in the side of his neck. The whispering continued.

"Run! Go! Go!" Jack shouted.

Clementine was about to kneel next to him, but Kate pulled her away.

"Hold on. Wait!" she heard Michael call as they ran past him, his arms out beside him as if surrendering.

As they ran down the hill, Clementine heard something coming for her, and as she felt a pinch in her shoulder, she tripped and fell. "Clementine!" Kate yelled, but Jack made sure they kept running down further into the valley. Clementine couldn't stop it now. Every muscle in her body was hyperactive, and she couldn't stop herself from shaking no matter how hard she tried. She clawed at the ground, feeling the dirt under her nails but she couldn't pick herself up. As her eyelids began to flutter, she heard gunshots from nearby, then heavy footsteps. Something was put over her head, and someone gripped her upper arm, tight. Then everything went dark.

— ◒ —

Whatever they'd shot them with only took them out for a few minutes, because when she woke up, she could still feel the grass and dirt underneath her. Someone forced her up, and she noticed a gag in her mouth and rope around her wrists. She tried to shout, but her voice was strained and muffled. They pushed her along, and for a while, they walked through the jungle, mostly downhill. She listened to the footsteps— there were a lot of people in their group, and if she was correct, her friends were still with them.

She soon heard water, and they were walking toward it. As the sound of the crashing waves became closer, they were no longer walking on grass— there was wood underneath them. They continued to shove her, and after arriving near the end of the dock, pushed her down onto her knees. She heard grunting from the others— and finally, they took the bag off her head. She was grateful to find her friends sitting next to her— and Michael standing amongst them.

There was an Other with a rifle standing behind each one of her friends, including herself. All of them wore old, tattered clothing and had dirty faces and messy hair, and none of them were wearing shoes. Clementine heard Sawyer's muffled yells from down the line. "Son of a bitch! I'll kick your—"

A man kneed him in the stomach, and he doubled over, groaning. Clem tried to shout, but it came out as more of a gurgle with the gag in her mouth. "Hey!" said the man in front of them. Someone cocked their gun. "Everybody just calm down." This man was tall and stocky, and he had gray hair and a long beard to match. It looked like the very same beard she and Kate had found in the medical station.

"It's fake," Kate said. "We know your beard is fake." She was just barely understandable.

"Sorry, missy, I didn't get you," he said.

"She says she knows your beard's fake, Tom," a woman beside him said. She was a tall, black woman, whose hair was wrapped in a head scarf tied in a knot at her neck, and she was wearing loose, fraying pants and a Henley shirt that tied at the top. She spoke calmly and simply, a sharp contrast to Tom's rough and loud.

"Well, thanks for pointing that out, Kate," Tom said, taking it off his chin. "I can't tell you how much this thing itches." He scratched under his nose, then turned to the woman. "And thanks for telling 'em my name, Bea."

Then from behind, there was a low whir of a motor. They all looked to the side, seeing a run down motorboat approaching the dock. There were two people inside. It moved toward the front of the dock and moored in. One man stepped out and walked toward the end of the dock toward the crowd, while the second stayed behind and tied the boat to the post. 

The man walking toward them was also wearing no shoes, and had a dirtied face and brown, tattered outfit, just like the rest of them.  Everyone, even the Others, watched him approach. When he was close enough to see his face, Jack seemed to shift, tilting his head. This man had short, light brown hair and a round face. He was older, maybe 40s, and had a smaller stature. His eyes were big and blue as the unsettling waves that surrounded them. He glanced at Michael as he walked up to the group of them.

Upon a closer look, his face was incredibly scratched and slightly bruised. He stared at Jack for a few moments curiously. As Jack glared angrily, this man's lips curled into a small smile. "Hello again," he told Jack.  Clementine pieced it all together— this was the man they'd had in the hatch. This was 'Henry.'

He turned to Tom, then tilted his head. "Where's your beard?" he asked him.

"I think they know," Tom said, holding it up.

Ben turned around, looking at Michael. He looked uneasy, though he was trying to mask it with some sort of anger in his scrunched features. "Alright," the man said. "Let's take care of business, shall we?" Michael's glare hardened, glancing from him to his (former) friends.

The man was about to put a hand on Michael's back when there was a loud, pulsating noise. It went right through her, causing pain and agony, and she tried everything to get her hands out from behind her back and onto her ears. As the sound became louder, the sky lit up— bright and violet, burning her eyes. She closed them, doubling over from the earsplitting noise. All the Others seemed to do the same, covering their ears and staring confusedly at the sky as everything pulsated and the ground began to shake.

It got louder, and almost sounded as if it were zooming toward them, the pitch soaring higher and higher. It went on for about a minute before it all simply stopped, leaving their ears ringing and the sky blue once again.

Clementine and Jack looked at each other, brows furrowed. Even the others were confused, staring up at the sky and rubbing their ears, trying to stop them from ringing or popping. "Well," the man standing next to Michael said. "Back to business, I suppose." He glanced at Tom, who shrugged. He began speaking to Michael, saying something about being unhappy about their arrangement, but Clementine couldn't hear any more as they walked further from the group.

Once they were standing next to the boat, fake Henry's tone became louder. "You lived up to your word," he commended. "We live up to our word, too. You know how to drive a boat?"

"Yeah, I can drive a boat," Michael replied.

"Good. Then you can take this boat and follow a compass bearing of 325, and if you do that exactly, you and your son will find rescue." Clementine's ears began to clear, and she could hear a little better, even after his voice lowered again.

"What, that's it?" Michael said. "I follow the bearing, me and my son get rescued."

"Yes." The big-eyed man nodded.

"How do you know I won't tell people about where I was?"

"Maybe you will, and maybe you won't. But it won't matter. Once you leave, you'll never be able to get back here." Michael simply stared at him. "And my hunch is you won't say a word to anybody. Because if you do, people will find out what you did to get your son back."

"My friends," Michael said, glancing at the five of them down the dock. "I was promised you wouldn't hurt them."

Internally, Clementine scoffed. 'Friends.' Friends don't kill and betray each other.

The man gave him a nod. "A deal's a deal."

"Who are you people?" Michael asked.

He smiled. "We're the good guys, Michael." A pause. "Alright. She's all yours." He gestured to the boat.

"What?" Michael said. "What—what am I, stupid? Where is my son?"

"Walt's inside."

Michael quickly stepped toward the boat, throwing his bag inside. "Walt!" he called. "Walt?" he bent down.

"Dad!" Clementine heard a young voice say. Familiar. Walt was there, alive. He stood up, a big smile on his face, and hugged his father. But this was an unhappy moment for everyone else. Michael talked to his son for a few more seconds, then hugged him again as the big-eyed man walked back toward the five of them.

Bea walked up to Hurley, then took his gag off his mouth. He let out a breath, but said nothing as she forced him to stand and walked him in front of the four of them. "Hugo," she said, untying his hands, "you can go back to your camp."

He turned, looking at her. "What?"

"Go back," she said. "Your job is to tell the rest of your people they can never come here."

"But... what about my friends?" he glanced at them, still kneeling there.

The big-eyed man looked at them all. "Your friends are coming home with us," he said. Then he smiled.

"Go," Bea told Hurley. With a last, uneasy look at the four of them, he walked back up the dock and toward the jungle. As he went, a few of them untied the boat from the dock. The motor quietly whirred as Michael put it into gear, and Kate, Jack, Sawyer, and Clementine's eyes did not leave him until he was out of sight. Michael stared back, but only for a moment.

After he had gone past the dock, the men standing behind the four of them with rifles over their shoulders grabbed them and forced them to stand. Clementine stared at Sawyer for a moment. His eyes were thinned and determined, and in his irises, a hot blue flame burned with anger and frustration. If her hands were free, they would be shaking. Her stomach churned and she knew she was trying a little too hard to mask her emotions.

After a few seconds, the bag went over her head again. It all went dark.

Chapter Text

Maybe it was all some sort of insane dream.

Unfortunately not.

Clementine blinked slowly awake, extremely drowsy.  She could tell she'd been given some sort of sedative. Whatever she was lying on was cold, and goosebumps covered her skin the moment she awoke.  She could feel rope scratching at her wrists, and pushed herself up— her hands were tied. A dim light was above her. She was in a small room, and had been lying on a cold, concrete bench. Surrounding her on all sides were at least 30 guns of all sorts— rifles, shotguns, Glocks, Sig Sauers, you name it. She breathed out, blinking in disbelief. Why the hell would they put her in here?

There was a creak by the door, and she immediately turned.  Someone walked inside— the tall, stocky man from the dock, who she knew to be called Tom. He was smiling, wearing much neater clothes than earlier— a beige fishing vest, t-shirt, and some old-looking jeans. "We were wondering when you were gonna wake up," he said in his gravelly voice. "You sure are a heavy sleeper, Roberts."

She glared at him. "Let me out of here," she said.

He chuckled dryly. "Nice try. I can't do that."

"Why here?" she said, looking around at all the guns.

"You don't think any of them are loaded, do you?" he said. "We're not that stupid.  And you won't find a single box of ammo in this room, so don't even try it."

Charlotte bit the inside of her mouth. She considered attacking him, but her hands were still tied.  "What do you want with me?" she said. "Where are my friends?"

"Your friends are just fine," he said. "Don't worry about it."

"Very reassuring."

"You're gonna do me a favor, Charlotte," he said, taking another few steps in and closing the door behind him. Clem saw a glimpse of another one of them, holding a rifle and standing guard just outside. He was skinny. She could take him if he needed to.

"Am I?" she said, looking back at him. She stayed seated on the bench.

He nodded. "You're gonna clean all these up real nice for us," he said, glancing at the guns on the wall. "Shiny and new, inside and out."

"And what makes you think I know anything about guns?"

Tom scoffed, then chuckled a little. "Other than the fact you've killed about 20 people?" he said. Clementine froze. "I don't know. You tell me."

Charlotte stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted. He smiled when he saw her baffled look, nodding. "We know about all of it, Charlotte. Other than Mr. Bose and Diana Wharton, we're probably the only ones who do."

Clementine pursed her lips, letting out a breath. "It's gonna be a little difficult to do that without my hands." She gave her shoulders a shrug, as if gesturing to her tied wrists.

"Right," Tom said. She finally stood up, and he took a couple steps behind her, slowly untying the rope.  She turned around, then shook out her hands, staring at them a little too curiously.  Once she saw he was still standing behind her, she lunged at him, reaching for his neck.  He took a wide stride back toward the door, and Clem felt something pull back at her ankles, and she fell to the ground, missing him by mere inches.

Tom was still smiling. Clementine looked down— around her ankles were metal restraints chained to the floor. Even with her hands, there was no leaving this place.  She picked herself up, glaring at him. "Nice try," he said. Clementine began glancing around. "You won't find anything, Roberts," he told her. "Air vent's too high for you to reach with those around your ankles, and there's not a single bullet or magazine in this room." He opened the door slightly. "You have fun, alright? I'll be back in a little while."

Her knees still burned from that fall onto the concrete. She said nothing.  Finally, he gave her a grin, then walked out, closing the door behind him.

Clementine sat on the floor, yanking at the chains around her ankles. She didn't know how she didn't feel it before— maybe it was just much too cold in here. She stood up on the bench and tried to reach at the air vent on the ceiling, but even if she could get the cover off, there was no way she could get herself up there with the shackles around her feet.  She stayed seated there for a while, trying to get one of the picks from the gun cleaning kit to open the lock. It was much too big to fit inside, and she never really learned how to pick locks, anyway.

Clementine looked down at her arm. There was gauze taped to the inside of her elbow. Curiously, she peeled it off, revealing a small red dot of dried blood underneath. She folded the bandaid and put it on the bench beside her. She was tired, still drowsy from whatever sedative they'd given her. Even though it felt like giving up, Clementine lifted the first gun off the wall, then began taking it apart and cleaning it, inside and out.

About two hours after she awoke, there was a loud alarm that rang through the facility. "Subject escape. Subject escape," it repeated, in a robotic woman's voice.  Clementine listened as close as she could to the door, hearing footsteps all around, quick and heavy.  Suddenly, the door slammed open, and she stumbled back as it nearly hit her in the face. "Move!" a man told her, pushing her aside. He grabbed three guns off the wall, then left without a single look at her, shutting the door behind him.  She listened again, hearing him load a magazine. There were a few voices, fading away as they ran in the opposite direction. "Subject escape. Subject escape."

Maybe one of her friends had gotten free. Maybe they were coming to find her now.  Patiently, she waited, listening by the door.  Soon, the alarm stopped. No one came.

Discouraged once again, she picked up a rifle and a brush and began to clean.

— ◒ —

She was slowly and rather carelessly cleaning each gun, and with every step or minute of standing, the shackles on her ankles seemed to weigh even more.  About an hour after the "subject escape" incident, someone opened the door. Once again, it was Tom. "Having fun?" he asked, as she put down the brush she'd been cleaning one of the barrels with.  Clementine did not reply.

He nodded. "That's fine," he said. "We're moving you."

She furrowed her brows. "Moving? Moving where?"

He just chuckled, then took a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. Clementine looked down, and also noticed he had one of the same burlap bags used to cover their heads at the dock. "You mind putting these on for me?"

Clementine simply glared, and Tom sighed. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Roberts." He glanced at a man with a rifle standing guard outside— this was a different one than earlier, more burly than the last. He might put up quite a fight. Reluctantly, Clementine yanked the handcuffs out of Tom's hands, then snapped them onto her wrists. "Little tighter," he said. She rolled her eyes, but did so, clamping them tighter onto her wrists. No slipping out of these.

Tom then gestured to the shackles on her ankles, and she sat down on the bench and stuck her legs out.  He took a key out of one of the pockets on his vest, then unlocked them. She stood, and he slipped the bag over her head, then took hold of her shoulders and took her out of the armory.  There was a third set of footsteps following them— the guard from the door accompanied them as Tom walked her through the facility.

Each step echoed through the walls, all concrete and metal. She would have enjoyed how cold the place was if she wasn't a captive, but the chill didn't last long. There was a loud creak, and they walked through what sounded like a very tall, metal door, the heat and humidity hitting her like a wall. It was there that they took the bag off her head. Tom stuffed it back into his pocket, and they were back in the jungle, walking along a dirt path covered by an awning. It surrounded the building, and they walked for another minute before coming upon the end of the covered path and their destination.

The ground was still dirt, and in a clearing surrounded by trees stood two tall, metal cages, brown and rusting. One was shorter and wider than the other, and both had concrete blocks sitting inside, blocking the back half of the enclosures. "Keep moving." Holding her arm tight, Tom led her to the cage closest to them.  When they walked out from between the flora and fauna, a figure came into sight, hands around the bars of the second cage. It was Sawyer.

As Tom continued leading her toward the enclosure, she didn't take her gaze away from him, frowning. He stared at her with wide eyes, head peeking between the bars of the cage. Finally, Tom opened the door and walked her into the cage, then closed and locked the creaky door behind her. "Stick your hands out through the bars. I'll take off your cuffs," he said, as he took the key out of the lock. She turned and allowed him to do so without looking him in the eyes. "You look hungry," he said. "I'll bring you something to eat later." He didn't sound happy about it.

"How about you bring me an ottoman?" Sawyer added, hands hanging over the center bar. "And while you're at it, I could use a blow dry." He gestured to his hair, which was, for some reason, soaking wet. In his other hand, he was holding some sort of orange, fish-shaped piece of food, with a bite out of the tip.

"Hey, you got yourself a fish biscuit," said Tom enthusiastically, turning to him. "How'd you do that?"

He looked up in his cage, where there looked to be a tall metal structure, with a big red button and some sort of slide for the food. "I figured out your complicated gizmos, that's how." Sawyer smiled proudly.

Tom grinned. "Only took the bears two hours." He chuckled quietly to himself, then walked away.

Sawyer's proud smile melted off his face. "How many of them were there?" Sawyer called out.  But Tom was already gone, walking back along the path toward the cold building. Sawyer looked at her, his gaze softening. "You okay, Sunshine?"

She pursed her lips, tapping the bars, then sent him a weak smile. "Yeah," she said. "You?"

"Just swell," he said, a smile on his face. She really didn't understand how that cocky smile of his stayed present through everything. "I requested that cage, but whatever."

Clem couldn't help but laugh a little, staring down at the ground. But the happiness was short lived, and finally, she looked up at him. "They hurt you?" she asked.

He glanced at the dirt beneath him, then back up at her through the bars. Their cages were only about 20 feet apart from each other, but it felt like much farther. "No," he said, but she could tell he wasn't exactly being truthful. "What about you?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. There was a few moments of silence.

"You hungry?" Sawyer asked her. He held out the fish biscuit as far out of the cage as he could, and she reached hers out the same, palm open to catch it. For a second, they stared into each other's eyes, arms outstretched, still an eternity of distance between them.

He tossed the fish biscuit to her, and she caught it, then took a bite. It was crunchy and a little stale, and tasted like canned tuna smelled, maybe mixed with expired cereal. She chewed, her mouth upturned in disgust, then swallowed, looking up at Sawyer. He raised his brows, waiting for her reaction.

"Five stars," she said. James smiled.

Chapter Text

Clementine had fallen asleep on one of the rough, concrete benches inside her cage, but stirred awake when she heard loud carnival music coming from nearby. Confused, she pushed herself up and looked over at Sawyer, who now had a fish biscuit in his hand from whatever dispenser they came from. "Nice alarm clock," Clementine commented, standing as she looked through the bars.

"I've woken up to worse." He bent down, picking up one of his shoes off the ground across from him. Clem was about to ask, but Tom and some of the Others came by, all carrying rifles. Sawyer looked at Tom through the bars. "Want a half a fish biscuit?" he asked him. Tom did not answer, and Sawyer took a seat on the concrete bench to put on his shoe. The music was still playing.

One of the women opened up Clementine's cage, then she and Tom each took hold of one of Clem's arms and walked her away, just as Sawyer was walking out of his cage.  One of the men who was holding a rifle shoved a metal box into Sawyer's hands. "What's this?" he asked him, glancing down at it. 

"Lunch. We're gonna need you to keep up your strength," he answered.

"Is that right?" Sawyer muttered, as the group began to walk toward the covered path alongside the building. They stepped underneath the awning and followed it, and as they passed one of the doors, another group of three came out of it— two more Others, and Kate. Her hair was disheveled and she looked upset and tired, and was wearing a white floral dress and sandals.  "Kate," Clem muttered, as she got a glimpse of her friend's face.

The two groups walked with each other, and Clem sent a look over to Kate, wary and brows raised. "You okay?" it asked her. Kate nodded, pressing her lips together. 

"Danny, wait," they heard a woman's voice say.

"Hold up," one of the men said. It was the same one that had given Sawyer the metal lunch box. He went over and talked to the blonde woman that had called his name. She was followed by two men, both carrying rifles.

She whispered something to Danny, and they quietly conversed for a minute. Clementine heard her say something about a boat, then Danny told her, "Be careful out there," and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She walked off.

Danny turned his head back to their group, glaring at Sawyer. "What're you looking at?" he challenged. Sawyer had been staring, but he now looked away, smiling slyly. Danny gave him a shove, and the group continued walking.

They walked away from the path with the awning and came upon an open dirt field in a clearing in the jungle. People were working all across it, and by the edge where they'd come off the path was a small shelter for some shade. The sun beamed down on the rest of the field, and Clementine was already sweating from the walk. Did they really kidnap them and bring them all the way here just to... work?

Danny handed off his rifle to another man, then turned to face Sawyer, Clem, and Kate. "Alright, here's the jig," he said. "You see these rocks here?" He gestured to a small area of inset rocks buried in the dirt. The light brown earth in that clearing was cracked, but looked pretty solid, and would be difficult to break through. "That's where you three come in. You two are gonna chop 'em loose—" He pointed at Kate and Clementine— "And you're gonna haul 'em out of here." He pointed at Sawyer.

"That sounds like a hell of a lot of work," Clementine added.

"Good observation," Danny commended sarcastically.

Kate put a hand on her hip. "You expect me to work in this dress?" she asked him.

"It's up to you," Danny said. "You can take it off if you want."

Sawyer chuckled a little, but Clementine gave him a disapproving look and elbowed him in the side, hard. He glanced at Kate, then at Danny. "How dare you?" he asked him.

Danny ignored him. "Now, if you need anything, you raise your hand," he told them. "You get 10 minutes for lunch—"

Sawyer cut him off by raising his hand. "I got a question, boss."

"No questions."

"She got to ask a question," Sawyer said, gesturing to Kate.

Danny continued to ignore him, and spoke firmer. "If you try to run off, you will be shocked."

"Shot?" Sawyer said. "We don't even get a warning?"

"Shocked. I said shocked." He pulled out a taser, gesturing with it to each of them. "If you talk to each other, you're gonna be shocked. If you're slacking, you're gonna get shocked." Sawyer had a doubtful, smug look on his face, and it seemed to irritate Danny, because he got louder. "As a matter of fact, you do anything at all that pisses me off, you're gonna get shocked, okay? Let's get to work."

"I'm not doing anything until I see Jack," Kate said.

Danny took a couple steps over to her. Quickly, he drove the taser into her side, and she fell to the ground.  Clementine ran to her side, and they both looked up as Danny bent over them, hands on his knees. Kate squinted in agony. "Now, that was a quarter charge." He smiled slyly at Kate. "Once you're able to stand, shovel's right over there." He gestured behind them. "Get to work," he said to Clementine. She glared holes in his back as he walked away.

"Are you okay?" she said to Kate, letting her friend use her arm to pull herself up.

"Yeah," Kate said, her voice strained.

"Where are they keeping you?" Clem asked her, as they slowly walked toward the supplies.

"Inside the building somewhere," she said. "We shouldn't be talking. I don't want you to get shocked, too."

Clementine handed her one of the shovels as Sawyer took the wheelbarrow toward where they'd start. Kate slowly let off of Clementine, and they began to dig, kicking the shovels into the ground and loosening the stones in the dirt. After about ten minutes of silence between them all, Sawyer had hauled a few of the smaller rocks out of the area, and Clementine began quietly talking to Kate, not looking her in the eyes.

"Where in the building?" Clementine asked her, pushing the shovel underneath one of the larger rocks.

"I don't know," Kate said. "It's dark. Big, wide room with some kind of table in the center.  It's got straps across it. All the walls are metal. There's this intercom," she continued. "The woman who brings my food... she said it's broken. But once... I don't know. I could swear I heard Jack's voice." She chuckled a little. "Maybe I'm going crazy."

"Why the dress?" Clem asked.

Kate glanced down at the dress, then continued digging through the dirt. "They made me have breakfast with Ben," she said. "He said he wanted me to feel like a lady."

"Ben?" Charlotte repeated. "Which one is Ben?"

"Henry," Kate repeated. "Fake Henry. I think he's like... I don't know. Their leader, maybe. But his real name is Ben."

She sighed, tilting the shovel and lifting the rock slowly out of the ground. With her full weight on it, the stone rose above the dirt, and then pushed it away so Sawyer could haul it out.

"What about you?" Kate asked. "Where are they keeping you?" She was glancing around warily, making sure Danny, Tom, and the Others weren't watching.

"Cages," Clementine said. "Outside. I think they're for—were for bears," she corrected. "They're keeping Sawyer and I out there together. Separate cages. They're padlocked."

Kate sighed, wiping hair out of her face. "My doors only open from the outside," she said. "I can't fit through any vents."

"They know stuff about us, Kate," Clementine said. "Did they ever... did they say anything to you? About your past?"

"Yeah," Kate said. "They know what I did. I don't know who the hell these people are, but I..." She grunted, kicking the shovel into the ground. "I don't like it. Any of it."

"Yeah," Clementine said. "Me neither."

"Hey!" they heard a voice shout. They paused, and turned to find Danny walking over, hand gripping the taser. "No talking," he said, gesturing with it.

They got back to work.

— ◒ —

They'd had their 10 minutes for lunch, and the sun continued to rain its light down upon them. Clementine was dirty and sweating. They were onto the deeper stones now, which had to be hammered at with pickaxes before they could even try lifting them out of the ground. With every heave, Clementine bent over and exhaled. How much longer could they keep them out here?

Every time Sawyer would drop the rocks over to where they belong, Clementine could feel his eyes on her as she bent over and swung. "Hey!" Danny yelled at him."Get back to work." If he was spending all his spare time staring at her ass, he must be really bored.

"Whatever you say, boss," Sawyer replied, as both the women turned to glance at him. He bent down and began picking up rocks from their pile.

As she and Kate hammered away at the large rocks under the earth, they heard a whisper of "psst!" coming from nearby. They looked at each other, but when they heard a second, "Hey," they both turned to face the trees beside them, and beside the bushes was hiding a young girl, maybe in her late teens, with long, dark hair and big blue eyes. Confused, Clementine tucked hair behind her face. "Careful," the girl said. "Don't let them see you talking to me."

Both Clementine and Kate glanced around, making sure no one was watching. While Kate bent down, pretending she was loosening some of the earth, Clementine used her foot to dig her pickaxe into the ground, putting on a show of fake strain. "Which one of you are they keeping in the cages?" the girl asked, glancing at both of them.

Kate looked up at Charlotte, who nodded. The blue-eyed girl looked at her. "Did you see another guy in there with you, about my age, named Karl?"

"No," Clem whispered, looking down at her axe. "It's just Sawyer and me."

The girl shook her head, face scrunching. "You're not even supposed to be in that cage," she said.

"What are you talking about?" Clem asked. "Who are you?"

The girl then looked at Kate. "Where'd you get that dress?" she asked softly.

Kate looked down at it, pausing before answering. "They gave it to me."

"It's mine," the girl said. "You can keep it." She smiled a little. "Looks better on you anyway." Then she ducked back into the jungle.

"Wait," both Kate and Clementine called. But the blue-eyed girl was already gone.

There was a creak and rumble of metal beside them. Kate began hammering at the rocks again and Clem looked up to find Sawyer standing next to her, cocky smile on his face. Really, she didn't understand how that damn cowboy could always be grinning. "Having fun yet, Sunshine?"

I should really be calling him 'Sunshine,' she thought. "Quit staring at my ass," she told him.

He raised his brows, moving toward the rocks they'd just lifted out. "Well, give me something else to stare at."

"Hey!" Danny shouted, stepping out from underneath the shady area. "Shut up!" he pointed at them both with the taser.

"Yes, sir, boss!" Sawyer said, walking back toward the wheelbarrow as Clem rolled her eyes and picked up the axe once again.

As time went on, the sun was relentless. She hammered at the rocks, and while each break felt like a small victory, the adrenaline it brought her was short lived. It seemed endless, and she had no idea when the Others would tell them to stop, when it would finally be time to go back. Each time one of the stones would crack, she would slip the wider side underneath and pull it out, readying for Sawyer to take away. She was sure the dust that each break made wasn't safe to be inhaling. For the first time, she longed for the cages, for the dirt floor and the rusting bars, because they were much more comforting than the burn she was getting over her arms right now.

As the day went on, they became slow, and the pickaxe felt heavier in her hands.  She'd been given a hair tie to take the hair away from her face, but still, her knuckles were white and her fingers were blistering. Her lips were chapped and if she stretched them enough, would bleed, and her mouth was dry and her teeth rough.  Her breaths were slow and heavy, and she heaved with each hammer of the axe. Kate sounded the same, grunting and heaving each time the axe hit the ground.

They'd made their way toward the center of the field, away from the slight tree cover they'd had in the morning. Judging by the sun, it was about 3, maybe 4 o'clock. Surely, they'd call them off soon. Right?

Standing up tall and leaning on her axe, she saw James walking toward her. His hair was stringy from sweat and he'd opened his shirt about halfway. He was walking fast, looking right at her, and she didn't even have time to voice her confusion before he put a hand to the back of her head and pushed his lips into hers. The kiss was deep, fast, and salty, but she let him do it, dropping the pickaxe as he put both his hands onto her cheeks.

"Hey! Hey!" Danny yelled, along with another one of the guards who was shouting the same thing. He was running over. Slowly, Sawyer pulled away, his hands still on Clementine's face. She looked up at him, trying to figure out what the hell that had been for, and Sawyer simply smiled— the moment he did so, Danny knocked him in the back of his head.

Clementine ducked, watching as Danny went for another swing. Sawyer caught the rifle, and as Clementine was about to rush to his aid, she felt a pull at her arm and someone covered her mouth. "You scream, I'll shoot," a woman's voice said. She had straight, bright blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and curious blue eyes. She held a gun to Clementine's shoulder. She spoke calmly, her voice low and introspective, and she had a firm grip on Clementine, walking her over as Sawyer rolled onto the ground from a punch, then grabbed the rifle from the dirt floor.

He circled, pointing the gun at the three men that had been attacking him, including Danny. "Back off!" he shouted, his back to Clementine and the blonde. The three men's eyes were wide, and they all stood with their hands out, ready to strike.

"James!" the blonde called, just as a second woman walked up, holding Kate at gunpoint. Sawyer turned. "Put the gun down," she said. "Right now."

Clementine pursed her lips. "I'm sorry," she tried to say implicitly.

Sawyer glanced at the three men, brow furrowed in anger, then back at Clementine and the blonde. "Put the gun down," she repeated.

Sawyer looked at Clementine, and she tilted her head down, hiding her face. Finally, he sighed, throwing the rifle down on the ground as Danny walked over with the taser. He spat blood, then rammed it into Sawyer's chest, electricity crackling as Sawyer groaned and fell to the ground. For whatever it was worth, at least Sawyer had messed up Danny's damn face before he was stopped.

— ◒ —

They put them back to work until sunset, then tossed them back in the cages with a shove and took Kate away. It was dark, and Clementine was not excited to spend the night in that dark, rusting cage, where her two mattress options were unfinished concrete or the damn ground.

Sawyer groaned and coughed as the others walked away. They didn't seem to have any mercy, but especially not for Sawyer, who had a special talent for pissing people off. He struck just the right nerve with Danny, who seemed to have some authority over the group, because no one told him what not to do.

"You okay?" Clementine asked him, sitting up next to the bars.

He heaved. "Never better," he said, voice hoarse and strained.

Clem sighed, putting her head up against the bars. "What the hell were you thinking?" she asked him.

"I couldn't help myself," he said. "You just looked so damn cute swinging that pickaxe." He smiled weakly, leaning up against one of the concrete blocks in his cage. "Chain gang looks good on you, Sunny."

"James," she scolded, turning and holding her head up to the bars.

He sighed, the smile fading as he stood up, putting his arms through the bars and leaning. "Two of those guards got some real fight in 'em," he began. Curiously, Clementine stood up to better look him in the eyes. "The rest of 'em I ain't that much worried about. That heavyset guy packs a hell of a punch." He touched the side of his head where Danny had knocked him. "Shaggy-haired kid's got some sort of martial arts training, but I think I could take him if I had to. And FYI—" he continued, looking over at her as she began to smile, "those zapper things got a safety on 'em."

That stupid, reckless cowboy had done it for information. Maybe not so stupid, huh?

"Did you see the look on their faces when you got a hold of that rifle?" Clem asked.

Sawyer looked at her, and she just smiled. He chuckled softly. "I'm guessing most of these boys never seen any real action," he said. Then his slight smile melted. "But that blonde who had a gun pointed at you? She would've shot you. No problem."

"She called you James," Clementine said. "They know things about us. Everything."

"I figured," James said. "You know, I noticed something else, too." Clementine tilted her head. "You still taste like mangoes."

Clem chuckled a little. "You taste like fish biscuits."

He scrunched his nose a little, scoffing.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, slipping her arms through the bars and leaning on them.

"Well, Tutti Fruity, now we wait for these bastards to make a mistake. Sooner or later, they're gonna let their guard down. And when they do, we're gonna be there to put them in their place."

Clementine nodded, biting the inside of her mouth. It sounded easier than it would be— they had no idea where on the island they were, and neither did the people on the beach. They had no weapons and had no idea how many of the others there really were. And Clementine had another question, too.

"So, the kiss," she said. "Just for... research purposes, right?"

"I just needed to get their attention," he said with a shrug. "You seemed the easiest way to do that."

"I'm glad I can be of use," she said sarcastically.

"All in a day's work, Sunshine."

Chapter Text

Clementine tossed and turned all night. The ground was uncomfortable beneath her, and the sweat and dirt that covered her body wasn't helping. With the sun out of the way, replaced by the dim light of the moon, the light breeze made her shiver, and she sat up against the cold concrete block and placed her hands over her arms. She was half asleep the whole night, and judging by the constant rustling coming from Sawyer's cage, he wasn't doing much better.

She'd drifted back off for only 30 minutes before the sun rose and the Others came knocking once again. She blinked, looking over at Sawyer's cage as three men, one of them Danny, opened the door and walked in. "Time for work," he called. All three of them had rifles on their backs, and Danny had a brand new bandage over his nose, courtesy of Sawyer.

"Sounding a little stuffy there, Chinatown," Sawyer commented, as the other two men forced him to stand. "Need to blow your nose?"

"Just give me an excuse," Danny threatened.

"Thought I just did," Sawyer said, as he was walked out of the cage. "What I gotta do, talk about your mother?"

Danny grabbed him by his shirt, and Clementine rushed up to the bars, but there was a sudden call on his radio, voicing his name. "Danny, are you there?" it said. He picked it up.

"Yeah?" he replied, frustration in his tone. His other hand still held Sawyer by his collar. There was another word. "Hold on," Danny said. He pushed Sawyer back into the cage, then walked away toward the end of the clearing that contained the cages. "Okay, go." The other two locked Sawyer back into his cage.

Clementine tried to listen close. "Yeah, listen, Danny, we got..." then the voice trailed out of earshot, getting quieter. It was just jumbled mumbling now. Danny's brows furrowed and his eyes seemed to widen as the voice on the other side continued to speak.

"What?" Danny said. "Where are they?" More jarbled mumbling. Then people came running out of the jungle: the blonde from yesterday, and Henry— or as Kate had informed her— Ben. Danny ran up to meet them as more people came out behind them. Tom was followed by a few more people carrying a woman on a stretcher. The blonde stayed by her side, and Danny's voice filled with panic. "She's gonna be fine, right?"

"Keep her steady, keep her steady."

"She's still breathing."

"She'll be okay?"

They ran past the cages and toward the facility, rushing the woman under the awning and toward the front doors. Clementine and Sawyer watched them go, eyes wide with curiosity. "What happened?" Clementine asked.

Sawyer looked over at her. "We happened."

Clem tilted her head. "What?"

"Been on this rock long enough to realize they ain't in the business of shootin' each other." He had a slight smile on his lips. "We did it. Our team."

Clem blinked, thinking. Danny was called over, panicking over the woman on the stretcher. Was this the same one from yesterday, the one he'd met under the awning and given a hug farewell to? The one who had mentioned a boat? She remembered Sayid, the other half of their failed ambush, coming in on Desmond's boat. Had it been them? Perhaps victory was close. Maybe Sayid and some others would come to their rescue.

Clementine looked at him, smiling. "You think so?"

"Damn right I do," he said. He thinned his eyes. "I think we just got our ticket out of here." Sawyer sat there for a moment, smiling to himself. He then got up, wandering over to the side of his cage, where the mechanism that dispensed the fish biscuits laid. He grabbed the pipe that dispensed water into the feeding trough and began bending it so that it poured just outside, onto the ground.

"What are you doing?" Clementine asked him.

He ignored her, then walked over to another part of the mechanism and placed a large rock on top of it, causing a rusty creak. "Whenever you're ready to fill me in," she said.

"Shush up, I'm thinking," he said, walking over to the other half of the machine, and pressing the large red button. "Warning," an automated woman's voice said.  Then he threw a rock at the opposite side, hitting a wide metal lever that bounced. A buzzer sounded, and the loud carnival music began to play. "Reward. Reward," the automated woman said. Dried seeds and a fish biscuit fell at Sawyer's feet, and water began to dispense out of the pipe. Instead of falling into the trough like it was supposed to, it trickled onto the ground and ran its course through his cage, puddling just outside his door.

Clementine watched him curiously, leaning up against the bars.  What she'd do to trade cages, to let that water run through her dirty hair and over her body...

"You know that chick they brought in on a stretcher?" Sawyer asked, looking up at her. "That's broken-nose man's girl."

"I think his name's Danny," Clem added.

"Well, Danny is distracted at the moment." He walked over to the machine, taking a long stick out from the pile of dead leaves that had fallen there. "Watch and learn, little lady," he said, taking a couple steps away. He pushed the big button with the stick a few times, and the woman's voice sounded, "Warning," as a buzzer played. But there was something else— something was wrong with it, because there was little white sparks forming around the metal edges.

"There's juice pumping into this box from somewhere," Sawyer began. "Next time someone comes to pull me out, I'm gonna wait 'til they step in my little swimming hole—" he gestured at the puddle outside his cage door— "then I grab 'em. Zap!" he finished, his voice a whisper. "They fall back from the shock, I snag the keys. Bet the bears never thought of that."

Clem tilted her head. "You're both gonna get electrocuted."

"Yeah, but I felt the jolt. I can take it. The other guy? He ain't gonna be ready for it."

Clem raised her brows, nodding. Maybe he didn't finish high school, but the cowboy was smarter than he looked. "What? You think I'm crazy?" Sawyer asked.

"No, I'm actually impressed," Clementine said.

Sawyer chuckled dryly. "Well, wipe the stars out of your eyes, sweetheart." Clem rolled her eyes. "'Cause we're gonna do this."

"So what about Kate and Jack?" Clem asked.

He turned back to face her. "What about 'em?"

Whatever was left of Clementine's fascination faded.

"We don't know where they are. Hell, we don't even know if Jack is even alive." He sighed, walking toward the bars. He sounded disappointed that she had even asked. "We gotta take care of us."

"We can't just leave them."

"It's every man for himself, Sunshine."

— ◒ —

They didn't have to wait very long. The anticipation was already getting to her, pacing throughout the cage and simply waiting for someone, anyone to come by. It was quite a surprise when they saw Ben walk into the clearing, unarmed and alone. His face was less scratched than she'd last seen, and his wounds seemed to be healing quickly. Oh, how badly she wanted to mess it up again. Luckily, Sawyer would be taking care of that.

Clementine sat by the concrete bench and waited, watching closely. Ben stopped just outside Sawyer's puddle.

"Lunch already?" Sawyer asked.

"What do you weigh?" Ben said immediately.

"What?"

"What do you weigh?" he repeated, enunciating.

Sawyer sighed, looking down. "One-eighty, give or take."

Ben took a step closer. No, not yet.

"How old are you?"

Sawyer shrugged. "Thirty-two."

"Don't lie."

Sawyer huffed. "Thirty-five," he corrected reluctantly.

Ben nodded. "Good," he said. Then he stepped right into the puddle of water and reached for his back pocket. He stuffed the keys into the door, and once he had, Sawyer grabbed his arm and twisted it. He kicked the red button with his bare foot, but there was only a clash of metal. No "Warning," no buzzer, and definitely no electricity. He paused, then kicked it again, and once he decided to give up, he pulled Ben's arm a little closer.

"What did you do?"

"We turned it off," Ben replied simply. Then he raised a hand, and drove the end of his flashlight into Sawyer's nose, knocking him back with a shout.

"Sawyer!" Clem yelled, rushing toward the bars.

Ben opened the door as Sawyer knelt on the ground. He took some sort of black baton out of his pocket and extended it, and just as Sawyer was getting up, hit him again. He groaned, falling back down, then pushed him against the bars and his the back of his knees with the baton. Clementine winced as Sawyer fell to the ground again. Ben picked him up by his shirt and tossed him onto the dirt. "Stop!" Clementine shouted, but that seemed to be the last straw, because Ben kicked him in the head, and he was out cold.

A couple of Others rushed through the awninged path— Ben stepped back, allowing two of them to take Sawyer by his arms and carry him away. "What are you doing with him?" Clementine called angrily. "What are you doing?" As expected, she got no answer. "Hey!" she called. Ben didn't even glance at her.

They hadn't even taken James all the way out of the clearing when a few more people walked into the area. Tom and another man whose name she did not know walked a brunette into Sawyer's cage. She was wearing a dirty floral dress, and Clem didn't have to see her face for her to realize it was Kate. They shoved her inside and locked the door before she could rush to it. "Hey!" Kate called.

Clementine shook her head. She was sitting on the ground beside the door now. "It's useless," she said. Sawyer was gone now.

Kate looked over at her. She hadn't even seemed to realize. "Clementine," she said. "What are they doing to him?"

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Why did they kick you out of your room? Why are you here?"

Kate shrugged. "They said they'd have someone else in the room," she explained. "Temporarily. That table I told you about, the one with the straps... it would hold him down." She sank down and took a seat on the ground.

Finally, Clem's eyes met Kate's across the way. She looked tired. "You think that's where they're taking him?" she asked.

"It's the only guess I have," she said. "I'm sorry."

Clem shook her head. "You didn't do any of this," she said. "Don't be sorry. What about Jack? Have you seen him?"

"No," Kate said, looking down. "I don't know where he is. The woman that brings me my food— the blonde that had a gun to you yesterday— she told me he's alive. I haven't heard him on the intercom in my room, either."

Clementine sighed. "I hate this," she said, leaning her head up against one of the bars. "It's like I'm a kid again. I can't do anything."  The helplessness scratched at her insides, tearing her hope apart and bringing her spirits down more than ever.

Kate chuckled weakly to herself, and Clementine looked over, brows furrowed. "It's so weird to think two months ago we had just crashed here," Kate said. "It feels like forever ago. Now look at us.  Locked up in cages."

Clementine picked at the rust on the bars. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I probably belong here, though."

"What?" Kate said immediately. "What are you talking about?"

Clementine didn't look her in the eyes. "I should be locked up," she said. "Here, anywhere. You and I have a lot in common."

Kate tilted her head. "You've killed someone?"

"I was..." She exhaled. Of all people, Kate would understand. "I was a hired killer," she said finally. "Like a hitman. I worked for one guy. He had a whole team of us. I put a bullet in whoever he wanted, no questions asked."

"You..." Kate thought for a moment. "Were you wanted?"

"Sometimes I wish I was," Clementine said. "Maybe if I went to prison, I would have stopped sooner." She shook her head. "They never caught me. Not once."

"God," said Kate.

"I regret it," Clementine said. "Every time I pulled the trigger, I regretted it. But I didn't know how to do anything else. It was my whole life, Kate. I should be locked away. I shouldn't get to go back. I think I'm supposed to be here."

Kate just looked at her for a couple moments. There was some sort of sorrow in her eyes— not pity, but perhaps empathy, an understanding of exactly what Charlotte was going through. "When I was on the run," Kate began, "I needed a place to stay for a little while. So I stuck it out with an old friend of mine, someone I'd known for a very long time." The empathy turned to melancholy. She looked sorry, but not for Clementine anymore. "Tom," she said quietly. "When the marshal found me there..." She paused. "I had to run. But he insisted on coming with me. There was a car chase, and I..." She bit her lip. "They were shooting at us, and it caused an accident. When I looked over... he was dead. They'd shot him."

Clementine finally looked up.

"It was my fault, but I couldn't stay there. So I left him and I ran," Kate said. "I belong here, too. I should be locked away for a long time. But after all this... the crash, the Others, the deaths, being kidnapped... haven't we been punished enough? Hasn't every minute on this island been enough torture?"

"I didn't know any of them," Clementine continued. "What if they were innocent? What if they had families?"

"Tom had a family," Kate said. "Don't do that to yourself, Clem. Don't let your past keep you away from living your life." She put her hands around the bars, looking right into Clementine's cage.

"Did you have a life?  After Tom?"

Kate took a breath. "Yeah," she said, looking down. "Yeah, I did. I had a good one for a while."

"What happened?"

She pursed her lips. "I ran. I wanted it," she said. "I wanted it so bad... but they were going to find me. They would have taken me away. I couldn't let him..." She looked up at Clementine again. "He was a good man. I couldn't ruin his life just because I wanted one."

Clementine looked down, playing with the leaves on the dirty floor.

"I heard you and Sawyer." Kate changed the subject. "That night, fighting on the way here. What happened to you guys?"

Charlotte hugged her knees a little closer.

"Clementine, please," Kate said. "You can talk to me."

She hid her face, not wanting to let Kate see how badly she wanted to be happy. How much she'd cared for him. "I couldn't do it anymore," she said, trying to keep her eyes from watering. "I don't... I can't have that. I don't deserve it."

"No," said Kate. "Who told you that?"

"I—"

"Don't let anyone tell you that," Kate said. "No one can tell you what you deserve, Clementine. You're a good person. I know you are. We got new lives when we came here, alright? The old ones don't matter. They're not coming back."

"But I still did it," Clementine said. "I killed them."

Kate shook her head. "So did I." There was a few moments of silence between the two women. If Kate could get past it, if she could really separate herself from everything she'd done, then why shouldn't Clementine?  It was what she'd always wanted. Every moment of her sad little life, she'd wanted something better. Something real.

"Shouldn't we get what we want, Clem? After all of it, shouldn't we be able to hold onto something?"

Clementine has never been able to hold onto anything. She always seemed to let go, and never of her own volition, but because she had to, because she was supposed to.  But maybe she was never supposed to do any of it.  However horrible a time to start it was, maybe holding on was her best bet. Especially here and now.

"I don't know if I have anything left to hold onto," she said.

Kate looked at her for a minute, brows slightly upturned. "Yes, you do," she said.

There was a few moments of thoughtful silence between them. Clementine picked at her nails for a little bit, thinking of Kate's words. "So what about you and Jack?" Clementine asked.

Kate looked over at her, then laughed a little. "I'll deal with that eventually."

— ◒ —

The two girls waited quietly for a while, and after their conversation was over, it was only about 30 minutes of silent anticipation before Sawyer came back, walking on his own. He didn't look happy, and the cocky smile was wiped off his face. Clementine and Kate both rushed to their bars. Sawyer was followed by Tom and another man whose name she did not know. "Sawyer," Clementine said, holding her bars and watching as Tom opened the cage door. He stepped inside and grabbed Kate, and Sawyer was not shoved, and walked inside of the rusting enclosure without a word. "Sawyer, are you okay?" Clementine asked. Once again, no answer. He wasn't even looking at her.

Tom placed a bucket in his cage, then handed Kate over to the other man, who walked her toward the covered path back toward the inside of the facility. She looked back at Clementine as she walked, stumbling over her own feet. Tom then opened Clementine's cage door. "That's so you can clean yourselves up," he said, placing a bucket down by her feet, along with a set of clothes. "And Charlotte, if any of that doesn't fit, just give me a holler, okay?" He did not look angry, nor satisfied, and spoke softly. Clementine just furrowed her brows suspiciously, and watched as he followed the other man and Kate back toward the facility.

Once they were out of sight, she turned to Sawyer. He was already sitting on one of the concrete blocks in his cage, sponging dirt off his face. "What happened?" Clementine asked, still pressed against the bars. "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "They just asked me questions. It ain't important."

"Not important? What happened, James?"

"Look, I told you, nothing happened," he said, frustration lacing his tone. "So quit askin' me." He held a glare at her for a few moments, then looked back down at the bucket of soapy water.

Kate's words repeated in her head. Hold on, she told her. But she could only press him so much before he'd start yelling at her. If he didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't. She walked over to the set of clothes they'd tossed into her cage— denim capris, a change of socks, and a cami tank top that was scarily accurate to her size. They really did know everything about them. "Turn around," she said.

Sawyer sighed, but did not make any comments like she would have expected. He turned his back to her, and once she saw he was not turning back around, she put her back to the door and began taking her dirtied clothes off. She pulled the pants over her legs and was about to place the tank top over her bare upper body when she heard a quiet, repetitive beep coming from the opposite cage.  "What's that?" she said, worry lacing her tone as she turned slightly and covered her chest with the shirt.

"It's just my watch. It's busted," Sawyer said, brushing it off.

Watch? Clementine turned around fully. "When did you get a watch?"

"Look, I don't tell you everything!" he snapped, throwing his arms up. "Just leave me alone, damn it."  Clementine stared at him, aghast. The beeping became a little quicker. "And put some clothes on."

Clementine turned back around, and pulled the shirt over her head slowly. She heard a splash of water, and the small beeping from Sawyer's watch slowed. What happened to "taking care of us?" Maybe he was still angry with her about their fight, and the Others had just irritated him more. The theories circled in Clementine's head as she pulled her shoes and socks off and began sponging off her feet and legs. Maybe they'd given him some sort of drug that made him go crazy. Maybe they'd told him about her past and it had driven him off, made him angry at her for not telling him. She sighed, sponging off her face.

The air was still today. Sawyer kept to himself, not even glancing at Clementine as he sat in his cage. She began to pace, examining every part of her cage. After talking with Kate, and especially after Sawyer's outburst, all she wanted was to get the hell out of this place.  The bars were much too close together for her to squeeze through. Naturally, her eyes wandered upward, following the tall metal beams up to the ceiling of the cage.  That, too, was patterned with horizontal bars, but these were further spaced apart. If she could get up there... yes, she might be able to fit through. She cursed herself for taking so damn long to just look up.

Plus, maybe a chance at escape might raise Sawyer's spirits.

"I've been checking out my cage," Clementine said, "and I think if I climb to the top I can squeeze through those bars. They're spaced further apart up there."

Sawyer exhaled. "Don't bother," he said shaking his head.

"What?" Clementine said. "Why?"

"We have to be smart," he insisted. "I think we should just chill out here a while, get the lay of the land."

Lips parted, Clementine just stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell did they do to you?" she wanted to ask him. As words, questions, and accusations began to pile in her chest, a loud alarm began going off, echoing throughout the facility from large air horns. Then she saw a group of Others walking along the awninged path. The blonde woman from yesterday and another man walked a prisoner with a bag over his head toward the big facility. They were followed by a few armed guards. Their prisoner had a tattoo on his shoulder and was wearing tattered clothes— she knew him.

"It's Jack!" Clementine called to Sawyer over the noise. They rushed toward the ends of their cages closest to the path and began yelling his name at the top of their lungs, hoping they'd hear him. Did he know they were alive? Where were they taking him? "Jack!"

"Doc!"

"Jack!"

"Doc!"

"Jack!"

Their yelling was no use. He did not even turn, and after a few more shouts, he was gone.  It was only a couple more minutes before the loud alarm turned off. Clementine coughed, her throat hoarse from the shouting.

"They didn't want him to hear us," she said, beginning to pace again. "They're taking him somewhere."

"The blonde had some sort of scrubs on," Sawyer said. "You think they need him for some kinda... operation?"

Clementine continued to walk back and forth, without glancing at him. "Kate and I talked while you were gone," she explained. "She said she hadn't seen him. Maybe they're keeping him away from us for a reason. Maybe they need him for something."

There was little words between them after that. The sky began to darken, and sunset would be quite soon. As the sun began to hide behind the trees, leaving the cages shaded, they saw a stocky figure walking out from the path. Danny stomped toward them, staring upward at Sawyer through furrowed brows. Clementine walked toward the door of her cage, gripping the bars. Danny, an infuriated look on his face, fiddled with the lock on Sawyer's cage, then opened the door. Sawyer backed away from the entrance as Danny charged toward him. "Hey, hey, hey, hey!" he said, as Danny grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him out of the cage. "Take it easy, Hoss! Take it easy!"

Danny did not take it easy.

After pulling him out of the cage, Danny pushed him onto the ground.  Sawyer caught himself on all fours with a grunt. "Take it easy!" he exclaimed again, as Danny pulled him up by his shoulders.

"Shut up!" he shouted, throwing him against Clementine's cage. The bars rung as his weight banged against him, and his watch began to beep again. His nose was already bleeding, and his breathing was heavy. Danny looked at Clementine, whose fear was apparent as she stood against the back of her enclosure. He pointed at Sawyer. "Do you love this guy?"

If it was even possible, Clementine's eyes widened further. "What?" she breathed.

"I said, do you love him?" he shouted, punching Sawyer right in the face. Why didn't he fight back? Why wasn't he standing up?

"Stop!" Clementine yelled, rushing back toward the bars. Love him? What did it matter to Danny? What was happening?

Danny punched him again. "Do you love him?" His voice pierced right through her, hoarse and loud.  She just stared. "Do you love him?" Another punch. Did she? Charlotte didn't have much time left to figure out the answer.

"Leave him alone!" she said, reaching her arm through the bars and swatting at Danny. Sawyer had sunk down to the ground, his consciousness slowly melting away as Danny hit him once again.

"Do you love him?"

"What are you doing! Stop!" She reached her arms further through the bars and wrapped them around Sawyer.

"Do—" Another punch. 

"Stop it!" she sobbed.

"You—" Another.

Clementine screamed.

"Love—" Another.

Sawyer's blood spattered on her arms. "Stop it!"

"Him?!" Another.

"Yes!" she pleaded. "Yes!" Her throat was dry. "Yes, I love him!" she sobbed. "I love him!" she had her hand out to Danny, a five-fingered stop. She could barely see through the tears. "Please," she sobbed.

Danny looked like he was about to throw another punch, but slowly, he stood up straight, his breathing heavy.  As her eyes cleared, she continued to sob, but she couldn't help noticing that Danny, too, looked distressed and upset. He breathed shakily, then backed away as Clementine's tears fell onto James's hair. He was bloodied and dirty, and his breaths were slow and hoarse. 

"Lock him up!" Danny shouted, and some Others began walking over to them as Charlotte cried.

And the damn watch was still beeping.

The two Others he'd called over dragged the weak and battered Sawyer back into his cage, then locked the door and walked off after Danny. Letting out a breath, Clementine leaned up against the back wall of her cage. She watched Sawyer slowly regain his strength, then gingerly take the sponge from the metal bucket beside him and began wiping the blood from his cheeks.

"Are you okay?" she said, her voice trembling. She could feel her heart beating at her chest, the adrenaline from the fear still not dying down. Or maybe it was something else.

"Dandy," he said, the usual grin back on his face. It was an odd sight, considering his temples to his chin were covered in blood, which ran down his neck and chest. "Guy hits like a girl." He looked up at her. "No offense."

"Why did he do that?" Clementine said, taking her weight off the wall and pacing. She looked back up at the ceiling of her cage, then around at the concrete blocks and anything she could use as a foothold.

"Hell if I know," Sawyer answered. "These people ever make any sense to you?"

Clementine stepped up onto the block she usually slept on, then onto the next one, the tallest in the cage. "What are you doing?" Sawyer asked her. She looked up at the bars, now closer— yes, she could definitely fit through.

"You're smart," Clementine said, grabbing the bars right and putting her feet against one of the horizontal bars. "You tell me." She lifted herself up and climbed.

"Hang on a second!" he said, groaning as he pushed himself up. She was up by where the bars curved, creating the ceiling. If she let go, she'd fall on the concrete and break her back. She had her feet perched on the thickest bar around the top of the cage and pushed, grabbing onto the horizontal bars at the top and pulling herself up, kicking her feet as she pushed forward. "I told you, the time ain't right," Sawyer continued. Clementine threw her legs over the bars. She was now perched right on top of her cage.

"You're the one who said we had to leave!" Clementine spoke back. What had changed him? Why was he acting this way?

"Well, that was before—"

"Before what?" she said, sliding down the curved edge of the cage. As she slowly scooted further down toward the horizontal bar, rain began to fall from the sky, quickly turning from a drizzle to a downpour.  "I don't know what they did to you," Clementine said, "but I know you're scared enough to lie about it.  And that scares me more than anything they have done to us before!" Once she was standing on the bar, she turned, using the bars on the side like a ladder.

"Wait," Sawyer told her. "Wait!" 

"No," she said, continuing to step down the side. She hopped off the last horizontal bar, her feet slipping off the metal. She landed on all fours with a grunt, but quickly picked herself up off the soaked ground. She was outside of the tall cage now. Clem ran over to Sawyer's enclosure, glancing at the lock. She picked up a rock from the ground, then raised her arm and began hitting it. "I don't understand what's wrong with you," she said.

"What are you doing?" Sawyer said, his head pressed between the bars.

"I'm getting us out of here, Sawyer!" she said. She hit it again.

"Don't!"

"You're crazy if you think I'm leaving you," she said, hitting it again. It was old-looking, but thick, and wouldn't just break after a few quick hits. "I can get it open." Again.

"You're already out. You gotta go," he told her.

She looked up at him as if that were the stupidest idea she ever heard. "No." She hit the lock again, a little more force this time.

"You gotta leave me!" he pleaded, teeth grit.

Their faces were so close, inches apart through the bars. "What?" she said, wide eyed.

"Run," he said, voice hoarse and quiet.

Clementine shook her head. "What did they do to you?" The water soaked her face and hair, running down her cheeks like freshwater tears.

"Will you go?!" Sawyer shouted. The watch beeped again, and she glanced at it, its digital face blinking. He, too, looked down at it, raising his wrist.

"What the hell is that thing?"

Sawyer looked back into her green eyes. His intense blue eyes stood out against the red that covered his face. "You run," he said. "Just go. It's every man for himself."

"No!" she said. "No." She was shaking her head, hands up against the bars. "What happened to you, James? Why didn't you fight back?"

He looked down at the ground.

"Tell me the truth, for once in your life!" she pleaded. The rain came to an abrupt end.

Slowly, he looked back up at her through stringy, wet hair and bloodshot eyes. "If you really love me, go."

Clementine took a small step back.  "I—" She bit her lip. "I only said that so he'd stop hitting you."

Clementine took another few steps away. She couldn't leave him. She wouldn't, especially if that's exactly what he wanted. She needed him. She could get back to camp on her own, maybe beat up a few Others, find food, make camp... but none of it would be worth it knowing he would still be here.  He was a stubborn son of a bitch. So she turned around, taking steps back toward her cage.

"Run. Hurry!" Sawyer told her.

Instead, Clementine began climbing back up the side of her cage. "What the hell are you doing?" Sawyer asked her, knuckles white around the bars. "Get out of here!" She continued climbing, halfway to the top now. "Clementine!" She was up at the curved bars now, stepping up to the top bars so she could slip back through. "Damn it, Sunny, don't. Every man for himself!"

She continued to ignore him, and made her way to the flat top of the cage. She threw her legs over the bars, then used her hands to lower herself down into the cage. She hung from the bars for a second, then hopped down, landing on the familiar, leaf-covered floor of her cage once again. Home sweet home.

Sawyer was looking at her through the bars as if she were insane. She pursed her lips, then glanced back at him. "I won't leave you here," she said. "I won't do it."

Chapter Text

Clang!

"Warning."

Clementine slowly blinked awake, pushing hair out of her face. It was late in the day— yesterday's intensity must have had her incredibly tired. She dreamed she was back at the beach. Locke was there, but she didn't remember what was going on. Just some flames. Unfortunately for her, she was still locked in this cage. 

Across the way, Sawyer was tossing rocks at the fish biscuit dispenser. He threw another one, hitting the big red button right in the center. Clang! The woman's voice sounded again as the machine whirred. "Warning." He threw another one. Clang.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sitting up.

"Throwing rocks," he said, not turning to her. Clang. "Warning."

Clem stood, leaning over the bars. "Don't you have to pull the lever?"

"I know how to get a damn fish biscuit," he snapped, voice low. He still wasn't looking at her.

"Then get me one."

He scoffed, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "What, you trying to keep me feeling productive?"

Clang.

She sighed. "How long have you been up?"

"Warning."

"Long enough," he replied. Another rock. The sounds the machine made were starting to get on her nerves. If he was going to have an attitude, so could she.

"Would you stop that?" she said, crossing her arms.

Finally, he turned around, facing her. "Why?" he said. "Is it bothering you?"

She exhaled sharply. "Yes," she said.

Sawyer smiled, then threw another rock. Clang. "Warning."

"God," she breathed, rolling her eyes. "You're so annoying."

Sawyer did not reply. He threw another couple rocks, and once he was tired of that, he took off his shirt and laid on top of one of the concrete blocks, playing with a leaf or something in his hands.  She sat on the ground, tracing pictures onto the blocks with a stick, rubbing it in the rust from the bars, then using it to make lines onto the concrete. A flower, her initials, some sad faces, what she remembered of the Dharma logo. Twenty quiet minutes passed before some people came along the path— it was Danny, followed by two more Others, both armed.

The three of them walked up to Clementine's cage. "Come on," Danny called. "Time for work."

They opened her door, but weren't even looking at Sawyer.  Brows furrowed, she stood, dropping the twig she'd been drawing with. "What about him?" She glanced at Sawyer in the opposite cage, still lying on his back.

"Oh, he's got the day off," Danny said.

Charlotte stood a little taller. "Well, if he's not working, neither am I."

Danny raised his brows. "Oh, you're not, huh?"

"Just go, Sunny," Sawyer said, sitting up. "Man wants to give me a day off, let him give me a day off." He picked up his shirt from beside him.

"No, Sawyer," she said through gritted teeth. "We're a team. I break the rocks, you haul them." She gave him a forced, sarcastic smile. If she had to go to work, she was taking him down with her. And she was most definitely not leaving him alone with Danny.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Alright, fine." He stepped over to Sawyer's enclosure. One of the men took Clementine by her arm, walking her toward the path, as Danny unlocked Sawyer's cage. "Lord knows I wouldn't wanna break up the team," Danny said. Sawyer gave him a look, then walked in the direction of the work field without being told.

— ◒ —

It was sweltering out there, and what's worse, they had her keeping up a fire in addition to breaking the rocks out of the ground. It was more difficult than she remembered. Clementine did not see Kate anywhere, and even as they began work, no one brought her by, or even mentioned her name. Sawyer moved back and forth between Clementine's area and the pile of rocks at the edge of the field, picking up anything she lifted out of the ground and placing it into his wheelbarrow. She didn't feel bad at all for bringing him out here with her.

Whatever they were clearing the way for, it was big. They had a few other people working out here, too, but Clementine and Sawyer seemed to be carrying the group. If they started slacking off or tried taking a breather, Danny would shout at them, waving his taser all around. Clementine had no desire to feel the jolt.

About an hour into working, there was an automated voice that sounded all across the facility. "Compound breach," a robotic woman repeated.

Danny immediately raised his walkie. "Where is she?" he shouted. Clementine and James glanced at each other, both unsure what was going on. "Someone's on the grid," he told the other armed men nearby. "I want him on the ground—" he demanded, pointing at Sawyer, "—her too." He gestured to Clementine. Almost immediately, two men came by, taking Clementine by the shoulders and forcing her onto the ground. A bigger, burlier guy dealt with Sawyer. Clem grunted when she hit the ground as the pebbles, dust, and stone fragments scratched at her arms and chest.

"Yeah, they're here," Danny spoke into his walkie. Clementine couldn't hear the reply on the other end over the robotic woman's loud voice. "Compound breach. Compound breach."

"Did the doctor get out again?" Danny continued. Jack, Clementine thought. "You sure?" Danny continued. A muffled voice spoke back. "Well, does he know?" Imperceptible. "How the hell did she get over here?"

Then, someone exclaimed— the man that had pushed Clementine down had hit the ground with a grunt. Clementine turned, finding a girl pointing a slingshot at another one of the Others, hitting him square in the nose. He fell over, and she continued running. Clem had seen her before— this was the young brunette she and Kate had spoken to on their first day working here, the one who had asked about a kid named Karl. As she ran past Clem down on the ground, she looked right at her. "Get up!" she said. "Come on, get up! Go!"

"Alex! Alex!" a gruff voice called.  The blue eyed girl—Alex—turned, finding the end of Danny's gun pointed right at her.  She already had a stone in her slingshot, ready to release. 'Never bring a slingshot to a gunfight,' wasn't exactly the expression, but Clem was sure that there would be a clear winner should either of them shoot. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What? You gonna shoot me?" Alex challenged.

"You know you're not supposed to be here," Danny said, calmer than Clem had ever heard him before. "So let's just calm—"

"What did you do to him, Danny? Where is he?" Alex yelled, slingshot still pulled tight. Clementine and Sawyer gave each other wary glances. "I want to talk to Ben."

"Sure," Danny said, smiling. His gun was still pointed at her. "That sounds like a great idea. So why don't we just lower our little sling—"

"Where is he? Tell me!" Alex demanded.

The burly man that had pushed Sawyer onto the ground threw his arms around her, incapacitating her arms. Alex grunted, struggling in his tight grasp. "Get off of me!" she shouted.

Danny put his gun back in its holster. "Get her out of here." Alex continued to thrash.

"Put me down!" she said, kicking as the man walked her toward the exit to the field. Alex looked down at Clementine. "Listen, whatever they say, don't believe them." Further and further, she was carried away. "They're gonna kill your boyfriend!" she shouted. "Just like they killed mine!"

As Alex was dragged further away, Clementine turned to Sawyer. 

He was already looking at her.

— ◒ —

As they continued to work, the sun did not let up on them. Clementine opted not to put her hair up, because doing so last time had given her one of the harshest sunburns she'd had in quite a while. She was getting tired, and Kate was still nowhere to be found.  She was beginning to get worried— why hadn't they brought her to work? Was she okay?

They had given Sawyer a pickaxe, too, and on the other side of the large fire, he was doing the same job as Clementine, while someone else took care of the transport for the stones.  Three hours in, the axe was a lot heavier than when she started. Her muscles ached and her breathing was deep and slow. Her hair was stringy from sweat.

Some of the Others had left the field to take care of whatever situation was going on with Alex, but Danny, the blonde who'd held a gun to Clementine, and two more stayed behind, lingering near the little hut in the center of the field. It was a wood structure with a metal awning, and it looked like it was supposed to be temporary. Nearby, Danny and Blondie conversed quietly, and Charlotte couldn't help but listen in.

"I don't understand. It's supposed to be two weeks," Danny said, arms crossed.

"Our schedule's been moved up," Blondie replied.

"Is that an order? That's stupid."

"It's not my call. It's the way it is, Danny." Then she stepped away, looking right at Clementine, an oddly calm smile on her face. Clementine balanced her axe on the ground, glaring at her.  There was something in her hand— but Clementine didn't have to figure anything out, because Blondie held it out right to her. It was one of the burlap sacks they put over their heads.

"I would like for you to put this on and come with me, please."

Clementine scoffed. "No thanks, Blondie."

"I'm asking nicely," she said. "I don't have to. Please."

"You think I'm gonna put that over my head just because you said please?"

"No, Charlotte, I think you're going to put a hood over your head because the man standing behind me, the one who's burning a hole in my back—" Danny was indeed glaring intensely at the back of Blondie's head— "that man is going to kill Sawyer." Her voice was a whisper now.

"What?" Clementine's gaze softened.

The blonde continued. "But if you put this on, and you come with me, there's something you can do for us that could save his life."

"Could?" Clementine repeated. She glanced back at Sawyer, hammering at some rocks embedded under some dead tree roots.

"A chance is a chance," Blondie said with a nod. "But ultimately, it's not up to you. Or me. I just want you to try."

Clementine breathed.  She thought for a moment, considering what the blonde would do if she said no again. She was still holding out the burlap sack. She looked back at Sawyer once more, then down at it.

Then she took it from the blonde's hands, and slipped it over her head.

"Thank you," she said, placing both her hands onto Clementine's arm. She led her across the field, then Clementine felt plants brushing at her arms— they would be on their way to the awninged path now.

"Why?" Clementine asked, stepping slowly and carefully. Blondie didn't seem to like that pace, and kept pulling at her. "Why does he want to kill Sawyer?"

"Don't ask me the workings of Danny's mind," she said. "He's been a little angrier than usual since—" she cut herself off, muttering, "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Please."

The woman sighed. "One of your people killed his wife," she explained. "Danny's just looking for someone to take it out on, and Ford tends to anger him just the right amount." So the woman she'd seen them carrying away had died.

"Can I ask you another question?"

Another sigh. "Sure."

"Would you have shot me?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Not to kill," she said finally. There was a creak of heavy doors, and she no longer felt uneven dirt under her feet as cold air hit her body.  There was only a minute more of walking, then the woman stopped them short and took the bag off Clementine's head. They were in a dark hallway, at the end of which was a door with a big red wheel in the center. The hall had three sets of doors, all large and metal. Clem looked at the blonde.

"Now," she said. "Here's the deal. Ben needs your friend Jack to do an operation. Unfortunately for all of us, Jack doesn't seem very interested in that idea."

Clementine crossed her arms. "I don't blame him."

The blond ignored her, continuing. "If Ben doesn't get this surgery, he will die. And that wouldn't be good for any of us. He protects this island, and it's in everyone's best interest that he's alive." She didn't sound like she believed that, but she kept going. "Now, I've tried asking Kate. She hasn't seen him since you all arrived, and I told her that if she goes in and convinces him to do the surgery, I can bring her in to see him more often. But she refused."

"So, what, you want me to try? I'm going to be honest with you, I don't think I can convince Jack to do anything. Especially if it's Sawyer whose life is on the line."

"No." Blondie shook her head. "We want you to go in, try and convince Kate to talk to Jack. We know he cares for her, and we know you two are close. I don't want to have to kill her too, but Ben needs this surgery, and he's willing to do anything to get it."

Clementine exhaled. "So if I go in, talk to Kate... Sawyer's going to live?"

She nodded. "There's a chance. I'm sorry that that's all I can give you. But if it helps... we might be able to let you all go. If Jack does the surgery, it might be a show of good faith."

Clementine thought about it for a moment, putting a hand to her forehead. "Alright," she said. "Fine." Freedom... it sounded so good.

The blonde smiled, then took a step toward the set of doors closes to them at the end of the hall, furthest from the door with the red wheel. "One more thing," Clementine added, causing her to pause. Blondie waited, brows raised. "Your name. What's your name?"

She seemed to sigh in relief. "Juliet," she said. "I'm Juliet."

Clementine nodded. "I wish I could say it's nice to meet you."

"Don't worry about it," Juliet replied, chuckling dryly. Her hand was on the door handle. "You ready?"

Clementine nodded, and Juliet opened the door. The room that Kate was inside was big and wide, but just as dark as the hallway, lit with dim, yellowing lights. In the middle of the room, there was a wide table, about waist height, with loose straps thrown over it. Kate was sitting in the back corner of the room, and upon seeing Clementine's face, stood up, wide eyed. Juliet closed the door behind her, and Clementine walked toward Kate.

"Clementine," she muttered. Kate put her arms around her friend, and Clem returned the gesture. "What are you doing here?" Kate asked, as they came apart. She noticed her friend's distressed expression. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Clem took a breath. "Kate, they sent me in here to..." she trailed off. "You have to talk to Jack."

Her brows furrowed. "About the surgery?" she said. "Clem, you know who it's for, don't you? He can't. I can't ask him to do that."

"I know," Clem said, looking down. "I know. I don't want him to do it, Kate. But they're... they're gonna kill Sawyer."

"What?"

"If he doesn't do it, they're gonna kill him," Clementine said, her voice beginning to shake as she realized how grave this really was. Danny really would kill him, and she wouldn't be able to stop him. "Juliet said... she said they might kill you too, I don't know. You're the only one he'll listen to, Kate."

Kate looked her in the eyes. "They're really going to... they'd really kill him?"

Clementine nodded. "One of the men came by our cages last night— he threw him out of his cage and started beating him up. He wouldn't stop until I... until I said that I loved him. I don't know why. He just kept asking me." Kate listened close, a worried look on her face. "So I said it. I told him I loved him. And I didn't do it because he was going to die. I did it because I couldn't bear losing him. I love him, Kate. I can't... I can't lose him again."

Kate put her arms back around her friend.  Clem felt the warmth from Kate's shoulders travel down her arms and back, filling her with a sort of feeling she hadn't felt since she was very young. Suddenly, she was 10 years old again, her sister's arms wrapped around her.  A tear rolled down her cheek onto Kate's shoulder. "Okay," Kate whispered. "Okay."

"I'm sorry," Clementine said.

"No," Kate said, as they came apart. "None of this is our fault," she said. "None of it."

"She said... she said Ben might let us go," she said. "If Jack cooperates."

"Really?" Kate said. Clementine nodded. "God," she muttered. "He must really need this surgery."

"Yeah," Clementine said.  "I can't... I can't lose you. Or Sawyer. And I know Jack couldn't care less about him, but maybe if you ask him, he'll be more inclined to do it.  They know how much he cares about you." She took a breath. "I know what I want now, Kate.  I don't... I don't want it to be too late to finally have it."

"You really love him?" Kate asked, smiling weakly.

Clementine looked up. The wistful look in her green eyes probably told Kate everything she needed to know, but just in case that wasn't enough, she nodded.

"I'll talk to Jack," she said, a soft smile still gracing her lips.

"Thank you," Clementine said. Kate gave her a nod, and the two of them walked toward the door together.  Quickly, Clementine wiped away whatever was left of her tears as Kate knocked thrice on the door.  Juliet opened it, waiting for their answer with brows raised.

"Take me to Jack," Kate said simply. Neither of them were smiling anymore.

Juliet's gaze softened. "I'm glad you came to your senses."

Kate thinned her eyes. "I didn't come to any senses," she said. "I'm not letting my friends die."

She nodded. "Well, I hope we can make that happen." Juliet glanced at Clementine, who just stared. She then looked over her shoulder, gesturing at a guard at the opposite end of the hall. She threw her rifle over her back, then walked up, standing just behind Clementine. "Could you take her back?" Juliet asked. The guard nodded, taking Clementine's arm.  "Thanks, Macy."

Macy quietly walked her back out of the building, along the awninged path, and back toward the cages. When they arrived, Sawyer was nowhere to be found, and Clem's heart began to race as Macy pushed her inside and shut the door behind her. Clementine gripped the bars, staring at his cage. "Where is he?" she asked the guard.

She sighed. "For his sake, I hope you can help us, Roberts."

"Move it, Ford," they heard a voice say— Danny. Clementine turned her head, finding Danny and another armed man pushing Sawyer out from the path to the work fields. With a glare at the guard in front of Clementine's cage, he ventured toward his own, pushed by Danny all the way. Danny opened the door.

"Danny," Macy warned.

With the back of his gun, Danny hit Sawyer in the head and shoved him into his cage. Sawyer grunted, falling onto the ground. "Danny!" Macy shouted.

"You son of a bitch!" Sawyer shouted back, getting up onto his knees as Danny closed and locked the door behind him. He flipped his hair away from his face, and Danny turned to Macy.

"Right. Sorry, Mace," he said, a sly grin on his face. Then he turned back to Sawyer, head peeking between the bars. "You got anything you want to say to your girl, you best say it tonight."

Sawyer just glared at him, still kneeling on the ground. Danny walked away, and Macy and the other guard followed him. The sun beamed down on the two of them. They still had a good hour until sunset, and until then, it would continue to be hot. It had to be November by now, if not December. But being near the equator and the opposite side of the Earth she was used to made those months the warmest around here. For once, Clementine wished for a rainstorm.

Slowly, Sawyer stood, finding his balance. He turned to her, still strained when he walked. "And how was your day, honey?" he said, a smile finding its place on his lips.

She blinked the tears from earlier away, rolling her eyes and walking in the opposite direction. "I don't know how you do it," she said.

"Do what?" Sawyer asked, taking a seat on one of the concrete blocks in his cage.

"Smile," she said. "All the damn time."

He shrugged. "Me neither, Sunshine. Guess it just comes natural."

"I think you just like to be annoying."

He raised his brows, still grinning. "Well, someone's gotta keep you in check. Without me, this place would be mopeytown."

"I don't mope," she said.

"Right," he said, nodding sarcastically.

Clementine looked down at her feet, then back up through the bars of the cage. Sawyer was peeling bark off a twig quietly. Clem tapped at the bars, then spoke up again. "I saw Kate."

Sawyer looked back over at her, brows furrowed.

"They want her to talk to Jack," she explained. "They need him to do surgery on Ben, that guy that brought us in. She's the only one who can convince him to do it." Sawyer listened intently. "That blonde woman told me that if he does it, they're gonna let us all go."

"And you, me, Kate— are what, bait?"

"Something like that."

Sawyer scoffed, looking back down at the twig. "At least she ain't dumb enough to ask him to do a thing like that."

"I told her she had to," Clem said. "She's in there now."

Sawyer turned back. "Why the hell would you do something so stupid?" he stormed.

"To save your life!" she retorted.

He stood up. "My life don't need saving," he snapped.

"You wanna die?" Clem shouted. "Because that's what's gonna happen!" She huffed as Sawyer just stared at her. "Danny is just waiting for his chance, okay? I've seen him look at you."

She had to get him out of there. It was all too much now. A chance wasn't enough anymore. She climbed up the concrete blocks and planted her hands and feet onto the bars. "Damn it, Sunny, stay put!" Sawyer demanded, his hands around the bars of his cage.

"And you know what he's gonna do," she continued, climbing upward to the flat bar along the top of the cage. "So don't pretend like you don't care."

She was past the curved section now, pulling herself through the wide bars at the top and up onto the roof of the cage.

"Get down, Clementine. We've already been through this!"

"Shut up, James." She threw her legs over the side and began climbing back down. In seconds, she was down on the ground, stomping toward his cave. "If Kate and Jack can't save your life, then I'm gonna do it for you." She picked up a rock and started beating at the lock on his door, which she'd already dented a little the last time she'd been trying at it. "We're getting out of here."

"Stop it. Damn it, Clementine."

It didn't take long this time— about five good knocks at the lock, and it fell apart. She pulled at the handle, and finally, it was opened, their bodies only a foot apart. "Go," she said, pointing out of the clearing. "Get out of here! Run!"

"You're out of your cage. Why don't you run, Clementine? Cause me, I ain't running..." His voice got lower. "'Cause there ain't no place to go."

Clementine took a small step away from him, tilting her head. No place to go?  "What are you talking about?"

Sawyer sighed, looking away from her. "We ain't on our island," he said. Clementine's eyes widened, staring at him with her mouth agape. "We're on another island, like an Alcatraz, a couple miles off shore." His voice was louder now. "So unless you're a mermaid or you got a boat, there ain't no point."

How did he know? When did he find out? Another island? This damn torture would never end. They would be stuck here forever— or at least until Danny killed Sawyer.  After what Danny had said to him, Kate couldn't have been successful. Clementine wanted to scream her guts out, then curl up and die right there. "When were you planning on telling me this?" she shouted, stepping further into his cage and giving him a small shove.

"Never," he said quietly.

"Why not?" she yelled, her voice cracking. "Why wouldn't you?"

His eyes glittered in the light of the sun as it lowered over the jungle. He looked at her with such sorrow, such pain. He did not smile as he let out a breath from his nose, and he spoke in whispers now. Their faces were inches apart. "'Cause I wanted you to believe that we had a damn chance."

Clementine blinked, then looked down, swallowing the lump in her throat. Then, slowly, she tucked hair out of Sawyer's face and put her hands onto his rough cheeks, looking into his blue eyes for a moment before standing on her toes and pulling him into a kiss. He acclimated quickly, tilting his head so that their lips nearly melted together. She felt his hands around her waist, soft and gentle. She moved her hands down to his chest as they came apart, their eyes staying close.

She tilted her head down as she squinted from the tears pooling in her eyes, and Sawyer laid a kiss on her forehead, then pressed his cheek into her hair. "What was that for?" he whispered.

Clementine pressed her head onto his chest, listening to his heart race. "Nothing," she said, voice squeaking. Lie. She sniffed, making sure not to make a sound, crying silently.  Sawyer picked her head up, looking at the tears that ran from her eyes, cleaning the dirt off her face. As she looked into his eyes, so alive and full of fire and passion, she couldn't help but sob, lowering her head. She couldn't lose him. She wouldn't be able to take it.

Sawyer pulled her face into his, then slowly deepened it, waiting until her tongue moved with his to turn both their bodies. She took a breath, then, hungry for more, allowed him to push her into the bars. She threw her arms around him, back pressed against the rusting metal. He put his hands onto her upper arms, then broke apart. She looked into his blue eyes again, and there were no words between them, but the wistful, teary-eyed look she gave him told James all he needed to know.

In his eyes were a question, a perfect, simple "yes or no." Clementine moved her hands down his chest and began unbuttoning his tattered shirt. The answer was "yes."

He looked down, watching her carefully undo the buttons, then once she began slipping the shirt down his arms, ran his lips into hers once again. Both of them seemed to know exactly what to do next, as she ran her hands through his hair and he pulled her tank top over her head. He ran his hands carefully down her scratched and bruised arms, leaving a pattern of kisses down her neck and collarbone. He made his way back up to her lips, then took her wrists and lifted them. She grasped the bars, biting his lips.

They were body-to-body now, alone in the dying sunlight sharing warmth and perfect kisses. Clementine knew what she wanted. She was going to hold onto it.

— ◒ —

It was dark now. They were sitting on the floor of James's cage, half-clothed. Her head was on his chest as he brushed his fingers through her hair, one hand still on her waist. They were quiet, listening to the sound of each other's breath as it slowed from the action at sunset. Few rays of the pale moonlight illuminated their faces. "Let me ask you something, Sunshine," James said softly, still playing with her hair. "The day Blockhead was beating on me... and you said, 'I love you,' that was just to... get him to stop, right?"

Clementine picked her head up, her hands still resting on his bare chest. Their noses were only millimeters from touching. "No," she whispered, shaking her head and smiling. "No." Then she kissed him again, soft and passionate. He deepened it, holding her head close and moving his hands through up to her shoulder as her arms snaked around him. They broke apart, then she gave him one more, simple peck, smiling as she looked at him, his dirtied, bruised face, his messy hair and blue eyes that somehow still stood out in the darkness.

He pushed hair out of her face, then smiled. "I love you too," he said, quick and simple. Her smile grew, and she buried her head into his chest again. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her back, then pressed his head into her hair.

They stayed there for a while, probably fell asleep for a few hours before getting up in the dark and putting their clothes back on. But it was a short lived wake before they fell back asleep in each other's arms there on the ground. The door of his cage was open, and they could walk right out. But they stayed there, intertwined with each other, trapped of their own volition. There was nowhere to go.

— ◒ —

The sun had barely risen when it began to rain. It didn't much matter to them, because they stayed there in the dirt, hands wrapped around one another. But when a loud alarm began to sound across the facility, they both sat up, their rest interrupted. "Subject escape. Subject escape."

Clementine and Sawyer glanced at each other. "You think it's Kate?" she asked him.

"Could be the Doc," Sawyer suggested. "Subject escape. Subject escape."

Both of them stood up. Then there was a rustling nearby, and a grunt, female. They were close, but Clementine was afraid to leave Sawyer's side, and did not step out of the cage to investigate.

"Would you turn that damn alarm off? I got her!" a gruff voice said.

"Let go of me!" It was Kate. She, Danny, and another guard stepped out of the bushes. The rain was really coming down, and her clothes were covered in mud. Danny was holding her arm, tight, with his walkie in the other hand. Two other armed guards followed behind him.

"Well, well," Danny said loudly, walking into the clearing toward Sawyer's enclosure. "Look who got out of her cage." Then he looked at Kate. "You're real lucky I was on my way here, Austen, or we may not have found you." Then he shoved her into the arms of another guard.

Kate burned holes in his back as he stepped into Sawyer's cage. Desperate, Clementine stood in front of him.  "Let's go, James," Danny said.

"No," Clementine said, pushing Sawyer back. "Please. You can't do this."

"He's coming with me. There's nothing you can do about it! Step away!" Danny demanded.

Clementine just glared at him, struggling to keep her eyes open through the pouring rain. The sun hadn't arrived over the trees yet. It was just dawn, still dark in their clearing. She shook her head. "Step away!" Danny said again, one hand on the gun by his belt.

"No."

The guard beside Danny rushed into the cage. Sawyer pushed Clem out of the way and punched him out of the way. Sawyer lunged at Danny, punching him in the face, then grabbing the arm with his gun in it and holding him by his neck to the side of the cage, the bars rubbing into his back. The other guard had gotten the jump on Clementine. He was smaller— at first, she ducked underneath his grabs, but hand-to-hand combat was never her specialty, and he quickly had both her hands twisted behind her back.

She exclaimed, the pain running up to her shoulders. He had a gun to the back of her head now, and shoved her up against the bars, the metal hitting her cheekbone and shoulder. The barrel of his gun was pressed right up to her skin.

Sawyer was doing much better than she was. He had Danny's gun in his hands, holding it to his shoulder, and Danny was still pressed up against the bars by his neck. Sawyer glared, breathing heavy. Then he looked over at Clementine.

"You let go, or I do her, too," Danny said. "And Austen." Sawyer held back for a moment, looking over at Clem. She shook her head.

"Let go!" Danny snapped.

"Don't you let go!" Clem said. "Don't even think about it, James! You fight!" But she could already tell he was giving in, loosening his grip on Danny's neck and wrist. "No!" she shouted. "James, no!"

Danny pushed Sawyer off of himself, pointing the handgun at his chest. He grabbed Sawyer's shirt and shoved him out of the cage. Kate, too, was shouting, struggling to get out of the third guard's grasp. Danny forced James out of the cage, his gun still pointed at his back. Clementine felt her insides bubbling as if she were about to explode. Her hair was soaked and the guard was holding her hands behind her back so that she couldn't even move it out of her eyes. All she could do was shout for James to fight back, for Danny to stop, because she couldn't let that happen.

"Stop it! Get your hands off of him!"

Once they were in the center of the clearing between the two cages, he pushed James down. "Get on your knees!" Danny shouted, shoving him into the dirt. James rose, but stayed on his knees as Danny had asked. The guard holding Kate stepped away as Danny rose his gun at James's head.

"Please!" Clementine shouted, getting a hand free and gripping desperately at the bars. "I'll do anything you want!" she pleaded. Water streamed down her cheeks, both desperate tears and harsh rain.

"I want you to watch!" Danny said.

James turned his head toward her as she sobbed. "Close your eyes, Sunshine," he said.

"Stand up!" she shouted at him.

"Close your eyes!" He turned away.  Both Clem and Kate were sobbing now. Sawyer tilted his head up as Danny cocked his gun, putting a bullet into the chamber.

"No!" she said.  "Stop it! No!"

"This is for Colleen, you son of a bitch!" Danny spat loudly, over both the rain and the two women's cries. Clementine sobbed, melting into the bars as the downpour continued. 

Then another voice, distant and staticky. "Danny, you there? Pick it up! Pick it up, Danny. Pick it up, damn it!"

With one hand still pointing the gun at James's head, he grabbed the walkie from his belt. "I'm here! What?" he demanded.

"You happen to have Austen nearby?"

Danny glanced behind himself at her, then back at James. "Yeah," he said. "What?"

"Where are you?" the voice was definitely Tom's.