Personal Log: Adrian Rodd

PREVIOUSLY, ON LOST...

“We weren’t able to send out a call for help.”

“This island’s uninhabited. There’s no-one out there.”

“I tripped, against some… wire.”

“I’m a bit wary of stuff that people have built on this island.”

“These notebooks are over twenty-two years old.”

“I hope they do go and find rescue, quickly. Before anyone else dies.”

“The raft sails tomorrow.”

And now, the Season 1 conclusion...

* * *

Sarah had been awake for several minutes, although in her sleepy state it was impossible to know for how long. She lay on her back, gazing up absently at the roof of her tent, resting and allowing herself to emerge slowly from lingering drowsiness. The early morning light seeped in from outside, but there was little sound. She turned onto her back, and closed her eyes for a few moments…

She was startled awake once more by a shout, reaching her faintly, and she sat up, regaining her bearings. It was Walt’s voice.

“Dad! Dad, wake up!”

“What? What?” Michael, sleepy and disoriented. Sarah yawned, sighed, and got up. She was just pushing open the flap of her tent when Walt’s voice explained, urgently:

“Somebody’s here!”

That helped her wake up fully. She hurried out, and made her way over to the rough, fairly large semi-circle which was forming a few metres away. She was the only person wearing pyjamas; every one else, it seemed, slept in their clothes. Other castaways were emerging in turn from their shelters.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop, slow, slow down!” Michael was calling. “Stay right there! Who is that?”

“She’s got to be the French chick,” came Sawyer’s distinctive voice. Sarah experienced a quick burst of adrenalin. She slipped past several other survivors, and fixed her gaze on a brown-haired, white woman in her forties, her expression wary and a little wild, carrying a rifle. Sarah took a quick step back when she saw the weapon, and at the same time felt a surge of mixed emotions. Surprise, wariness… and was that disappointment? Confusion?

She’s not the woman I saw in the jungle… Part of her had been assuming, somehow, that the ‘French woman’ was in fact –

“Calm down, everyone,” Sayid told them, his own voice calm and controlled as ever. “It’s all right.” He turned to the somewhat dazed and uncertain looking intruder, and addressed her very gently. “Danielle? Danielle? What are you doing here?”

The woman looked at him, gravely. Her uncertain expression was replaced by a set, solemn look.

“The Others are coming.”

Sarah exchanged a brief, puzzled glance with Nikki, standing beside her. Then, before she could even think about it, she took a step forward.

“Who are ‘the Others’?” she asked. More than anyone else present, perhaps, she felt an urgent need to know who else was living on this island. The French woman glanced at her, appeared to gather her thoughts, then explained:

“I was part of a French scientific expedition in the Pacific, sailing out from French Polynesia. Tahiti. Our ship went aground on this island 16 years ago. There were six of us – my team, six. At that time I was already seven months pregnant. I delivered the infant myself.”

Sarah listened intently. The words stirred something within her, something indefinite, deep inside. Something which made her hang on to this woman’s every word. “The baby and I were together for only one week when I saw black smoke – a pillar of black smoke, five kilometres inland. That night they came. They came and took her – Alex,” she said, painfully. “They took my baby. And now, they're coming again. They're coming for all of you.”

There was a moment of silence. Sarah moistened her lips, swallowed uncomfortably, and said nothing. They knew they had enemies here, although they had never found out why Ethan had been hostile to them. She glanced at Claire, who was holding her newborn baby, barely thirty hours old, close, protectively. Then she looked out towards the jungle – the source of all danger, it seemed, to their little community on the beach.

“Who’s coming?” Jack asked, voicing the question on all their minds? Who was Ethan? Why would anyone want to attack us?

“The Others,” Danielle said again. She looked round at them, and her voice was oddly calm as she issued a stark warning – almost melodramatic, had it not been so serious. “You have only three choices. Run. Hide. Or die.”

“There’s nowhere to run,” Sarah pointed out, looking at her continuously. I wonder who Ethan was… but who are you, ‘Danielle’?

“The island’s vast,” Richard disagreed. “We can move camp.”

“There are a lot of us, and we won’t be very mobile, dragging all our stuff with us,” Sarah reminded him. “We can’t get off the island, and they probably know it better than we do.”

“Then we hide,” Nikki said. “Surely we can hide. The jungle’s ideal for that.”

“Are we sure these ‘Others’ are more dangerous than what’s in the jungle?” Charlie asked dubiously. “Just because the monster’s been quiet recently doesn’t mean it’s lost interest in us.”

The debate was beginning in earnest, but did not appear to be going anywhere. Sarah slipped quietly towards the back of the group, then turned and headed towards her tent. If they were going to be moving or hiding, she had no intention of doing so in her pyjamas. A bathe would help her unjumble her thoughts and think about their sudden, new predicament a little more clearly. She grabbed her clothes and towel, and headed off down the beach.

When she returned, she saw Jin splashing water over his face. Around his right wrist there was still a handcuff, which no-one had been able to remove since the day –seemingly so long ago now– when he had attacked Michael for some still unknown reason. She nodded at him politely.

“Good morning.”

He looked up, and returned the nod, straightening and wiping his face. “Annyŏng.”

“What d’you think of all this talk of ‘Others’?” She paused on her way back to her tent, her towel in one hand, her nightwear in the other, her bare feet sinking a few milimetres into the warm sand. “I feel lost enough as it is, so I can imagine how out of the loop you must feel… Although of course now you’ve got your wife to translate for you.”

Jin looked at her, uncertainly, then nodded again, faintly, and spoke in Korean. Sarah smiled, and rubbed her towel over her still damp arms.

“Well, I’ll let you get on with whatever it is you’re doing. Good luck with that raft. Don’t forget to get us rescued quickly.”

“Roft?” he repeated, latching on to one familiar word amidst the flow of foreign sounds. “Tteswok?”

“Yes, teswoke.” She grinned. “At least, I assume. Good luck with it.”

“Learning a new language there, Sarah? French, Chinese and English not enough for you?” She turned, still grinning, as Tom walked up to them. “Hi there, Jin.”

Jin returned the greeting with a nod, and made his way towards Michael’s boat. Sarah watched him walk away for a moment, before looking at Tom.

“Actually, I also speak a little bit of Kamilaroi. It’s a dying Aboriginal language. I have an Aboriginal friend who knows a few basics. It’s their country, y’know, so I felt it was important to… Anyway. What’s the word at the camp?”

He shrugged. “Undecided. Jack is getting people to work on the raft quickly so we can get it out to sea before these hypothetical ‘Others’ turn up. Nikki thinks we should all melt away into the jungle for two or three days. Manuel thinks we should move to the caves… and Sawyer thinks some of us should stay here and defend the camp. Or something like that.”

“Huh.” Sarah rubbed her towel through her damp hair. “The day I listen to anything Sawyer says…” She looked at him curiously. “What do *you* think?”

“Me? I have no idea. I assume the powers-that-be will tell us all what we’re going to do, anyway.” There was a faint but unmistakable undertone of sarcasm there.

“Jack and friends?” When Tom nodded, she frowned slightly. They began walking again, towards her tent. “You know, I’m not sure I’m entirely happy about them making all those decisions for all of us in their select committee. Especially when you see who’s making the decisions. Jack’s ok, and I’d trust Sayid with my life any day, but the others? Sawyer, Locke… and Kate, who’s a criminal, for goodness’ sake!” Tom nodded quietly, thoughtfully, and she went on: “I s’pose you didn’t know about the French woman before now?”

“Did you?”

“Charlie told me, just recently. Right after we got here, they picked up her SOS. It’s been broadcast for sixten years. Something about all her team being killed. You noticed she mentioned her team a moment ago but didn’t say what had happened to them?”

“Wait… So you’re saying there’s been a distress call coming off this island for sixteen years, and no-one has come?” He was astonished.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sarah told him gravely. “And most of us have been kept in the dark about it. Dunno about you, but I don’t like that. I don’t know what else they haven’t been telling us.”

“We haven’t told them about the rather… bizarre pile of capsules and notebooks we found – out there,” he reminded her, gesturing vaguely with one arm.

“Why should we?” she asked pointedly. “Listen, Tom… My point is, I don’t want to follow them just because they think they know best. Not if they’re hiding stuff that it’s really important for us to know. So if we don’t like what they suggest we do today, what d’you say we go our own way? If we want to go and hide somewhere, for example. I’m sure we can get Steve to agree with us, Paulo and Nikki, maybe Jane, Manuel, Craig… We really have to start keeping ourselves informed, and making our own decisions here.”

Tom smiled slightly, seeming amused, then nodded, more seriously. “Right,” he agreed. “Well… I’m going to go and catch up on what everyone’s saying. Then we’ll see if the usual think tank comes up with something we can agree with… or not.”

Sarah returned the nod, seriously. “I’m just going to get my shoes on, then I’ll be at the raft, helping Michael. At least we know getting the raft out is a good idea.”

* * *

“Look, I know you're all scared.”

Many of the survivors had gathered around Jack, Sarah among them. He had apparently finished discussing the situation with his usual associates, and she was curious to hear what he would say. She stood, her arms crossed, her head tilted slightly, and watched him. All eyes were on Jack.

“And,” the doctor went on, “I know everybody has a lot of questions. All I can tell you right now is that we do have a plan. We've got to go into the jungle to get some supplies. We'll be back in a few hours. In the meantime, do everything you can to help Michael get that raft in the water. And after that, go to the caves. We'll be back as soon as we can. I promise.”

Supplies? As always, he had been deliberately vague. What supplies could there possibly be in the jungle? Deciding she wanted a proper answer for once, she began to move towards him, apologising as she pushed past a fellow castaway. But Jack was walking away quickly, and Arzt had beaten her to it, hurrying after him and grabbing his attention. She sighed, and exchanged a meaningful glance with Tom.

“Sarah.” She turned as Manuel approached her. “Want to help us with the raft?”

“Sure.” At least that was something she could contribute to.

“Good. We’re stacking up provisions, in case Michael and the others have to survive on there for a long while. Faith, George and Craig are going to gather fruit in the forest.” Despite his foreign accent, he spoke perfect English. “If you’d like to go with them, four pairs of arms are better than three.”

“Right. I’m on it.” She gave him a smile as he left. Tom joined her.

“Supplies in the jungle?” he said, repeating Jack’s words and echoing her own unspoken question.

“Yeah, I was wondering about that. I s’pose we aren’t on his ‘need-to-know’ list,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “Still, getting the raft to sea and then heading for the caves does make sense.”

“I agree,” Tom said slowly, although he did not appear entirely convinced. Sarah gave him a light pat on the shoulder, and smiled faintly.

“In that case, come and help me pick some fruit.”

* * *

The small group of castaways approached the raft, their arms heavily laden with the gifts of fruit. Sarah lifted her bulky load up so that Jin could take the mangoes from atop two large bunches of bananas, then she passed the latter up to Michael on the raft.

“There you go!” she said cheerfully. “You should be able to last for weeks on the sea.”

“I’m hoping we won’t have to,” Michael replied as he set the fruit down to one side. “But thanks!” All around, this section of the beach was bustling with activity. The raft was almost ready for departure. There was a feeling of tense but definite excitement in the air – an intangible sense of imminent change. A hint of hope.

“Sarah, you haven’t put a message in yet, have you?” Charlie approached her, holding up a green glass bottle containing several rolled sheets of paper. He was also carrying small, spare sheets and a couple of pens. She smiled.

“Message in a bottle?” she asked, amused and rather thrilled at the idea.

“To be given to our future rescuers, before they actually reach us.” He handed her some paper and a pen. “They’ll pass them on to our families. Just call me when you’ve written it. Hey, Nikki! Finished your note yet?”

“Done.” Nikki smiled and slipped her paper into the bottle while Sarah went to sit in the sand, leaning against the side of the raft, chewing her lip thoughtfully, trying to contain a rising and purely instinctive feeling of excitement.

Dear Dad, she began, then stopped to think some more. These would be the first words her father would read after over six weeks of thinking she was dead. The thought of the emotion he would experience, at home in Sydney, his eyes taking in the words she was about to write here on a deserted island, caused a lump of emotion to form in her throat too. She smiled to herself, and to her father; her lower lip was trembling slightly. She moved the pen quickly over the small white sheet. Just a quick note to let you know I’m alive. It’s been an eventful few weeks, but I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I’ll look forward to telling you all about it… and I’m REALLY looking forward to seeing you again! Very soon now, Dad. I’ve missed you, and I love you. Sarah.

She paused, and chewed the end of the pen for a moment as she hesitated, wondering whether to add a post-scriptum. Finally, she made up her mind, and scribbled: PS: If you have any way of getting in touch with Mum, could you let her know I’m ok? All my love to you, Dad. I’ll see you soon.

She read it again, several times, then took a deep breath, and stood; she rolled it up, and walked over to Charlie, slipping her note into the bottle. She smiled at him, a small but grateful smile.

“I’d never have thought of it. It’s a great idea. It… makes going back to the outside world feel more real, somehow.”

Charlie smiled. “Raft express. Our very own post service. Oh, Manuel? Over here!”

Sarah exchanged a brief smile with Manuel as she walked away. She could hear him saying, “I just hope this will get through. Nice idea, Charlie.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll keep it safe. Hey, Locke, do you have a message?” Their voices faded behind her. A smile lingered on her lips. For the first time in far too long, she actually dared think about her father, and seeing him again, hugging him, being back home… The world outside the island had seemed lost in a distant past… another life, almost. This place was so different, so fundamentally strange an inexplicable way, that it seemed to belong to another reality altogether. They would be leaving it behind with its mysteries unsolved, intact and closed to their puzzled minds, but that barely seemed to matter. And yet…

She shook her head. I’m not going to risk my life chasing ghosts in the jungle again, she told herself firmly. Not now that I have an opportunity to get out of here. All she needed to do was survive long enough for rescue to come, once Michael and Jin told people where to look. If someone or something on this island had something to tell her, it would have to stop playing mind games, and just tell her. If it didn’t, she promised herself she would simply leave and never turn back.

She arrived at her tent, knelt down inside it, and looked round at her meagre belongings. She needed to pack to move to the caves, as Jack had instructed, but she had very little to bring. She opened her rucksack and hastily stashed most of her belongings inside, then closed and tied it, leaving it inside her tent for now. Until word was given to set out, she could continue to help with the raft…

* * *

The sky had turned a darker blue, but it was still very much daylight when almost all the survivors still on the beach –Kate, Locke, Arzt, Hurley and Danielle had accompanied Jack on his expedition into the jungle– gathered by the raft for surprisingly emotional farewells. A few weeks ago, they had all been strangers. Had their flight reached its destination safely, they would never have met again. But they had become, through their shared experiences and hardships on this island, a small community. Early tensions, quarrels and dislikes had mostly faded away. Sarah could not claim she liked every single one of her fellow castaways, but they had all learned to live together, and help each other survive.

She found herself standing in front of Jin, and gave him a warm smile.

“Good luck out there,” she told him again. They began to hold out their hand to each other, then hesitated… Sarah gave a quick grin, and hugged him. “Take care of yourself,” she told him as he hugged her back. It did not matter that he could not understand her words. Her meaning was clear enough. Manuel gave Jin a pat on the back while Sarah turned to Walt. She could not help but think back, briefly, to the boy’s earlier, solemn and downright eerie warning… but now was not the time to ask him about it. She crouched down a little to give him a hug, and for the first time he responded with a genuine smile.

“Look after your dad, won’t you?” she said.

“I will,” he promised, and she straightened to her feet, lifting him up. Walt grimaced a little in protest, then smiled after all as Sarah handed him up to his father on the raft.

“Good luck, Michael!” she said, with feeling. “We’ll all be thinking of you.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” Michael said, and smiled at her. “Hey, Walt, what d’you say? We’re going home!”

Sarah moved back a little, giving the others room to come and say their goodbyes. Charlie was still collecting the last few messages for his bottle; she saw Jane and Paulo each slip theirs in, while Shannon scribbled one quickly off to the side. Sarah was still smiling as she moved backwards, until she walked into someone behind her. She turned, ready to apologise. The words faded from her lips when she found herself looking up at Sawyer’s slow grin.

“Don’t I get a goodbye hug?” he drawled, amused at her obvious discomfort. “You gave a mighty nice long one to Jin.”

Sarah hesitated. She had never liked Sawyer. There was something about him that made her instinctively wary, that repulsed her on a primeval level. That, and he combined a shamelessly selfish attitude with an irritating casualness. A part of her was sincerely relieved to see him go. Once he was rescued, she imagined he would go back to his own life –which she wanted to know nothing about– without a second thought for any of them. Which meant this was quite probably the last she would see of him.

She bit her lip, then leaned forward and gave him a hug, very briefly. He returned it with surprising warmth, holding her a moment longer than she would have liked. She pulled back firmly.

“That was to say thank you for saving my life.”

Sawyer smirked, and nodded as he walked past her. “Any time, Almond Sweet. See you in some other life.”

She watched him head for the raft. As he mixed in with the small crowd, she opened her mouth to call after him and wish him luck… but no words came. She closed it again, and shook her head. He would look after himself.

She held back a little while Charlie handed the precious bottle over to Sawyer. Then it was up to all of them to help one last time, and they crowded close round the raft, pushing it over makeshift railings the last metre or two towards the water. Sarah had taken off her shoes; she moved over to the left side, and grinned as she put all her effort into pushing the amazing little boat out to sea. The next moment, it was drifting free, carried on by momentum, and she waded back to the beach. People cheered, waving and laughing. Sarah let out a whoop, and clapped, grinning widely. As the raft moved further away, the small crew unfurled the sail, which flapped in the light wind. Sarah looked over at the others, at their smiling faces. It was, perhaps, the first time they had all felt so happy, together.

The raft sailed into the distance, well and truly away now. It had left the island.

“Come on.” She glanced round to see Manuel gave her a light, friendly tap on the shoulder. “Gather your bags. We’re heading out.”

So absorbed had she been by the excitement of the present that it took her a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Right!” she said suddenly. “The caves. We’re going there. Of course; I’m all packed. Just give me a mo’ to get it.”

“No rush,” he reassured her. “We’ll be there well before nightfall. Just look for Sayid. He’s leading the first batch.”

“Gotcha.”

Minutes later, she had slung her backpack over her bag and was hiking out with Tom into the forest, following Sayid and Shannon’s lead. She hummed lightly to herself, trailing a little, taking time to appreciate her surroundings. It was almost as if the imminent arrival of the still hypothetical yet dreaded ‘Others’ was of little concern; she had rarely felt so free of care. Although the sky was gradually darkening, the slowly fading light fell in artistic blotches over the leaves, enhancing the beauty of the tropical jungle. How long had it been since she had stopped to consider what an attractive place this actually was? All the sinister shadows their minds had continuously projected into it seemed gone, at least for now.

“I’m almost going to miss this place,” she remarked, casually.

“You’re not happy to leave?” Tom asked her, picking a stray leaf from his hair.

“Oh, no, I’m delighted to leave,” she told him. “But now that we’re actually getting off this island, I can start to look back at all its good sides.”

Tom smiled slightly. “We’re not off it just yet. Don’t count your metaphorical chickens.”

She laughed. “Allow me a few hours of careless optimism, will you? We can go back to dreary routine tomorrow morning.” She looked at him, smiling. “Isn’t it wonderful, though? Four of us have actually got off the island. I was starting to think that wasn’t possible.”

Tom returned the smile, warmly, then reached over and, to her slight surprise, gave her a brief hug.

“I like it when you’re happy,” he said, releasing her, a warm, friendly smile on his face.

“Sayid!” The shout rang out behind them before Sarah could reply. She turned to see Charlie running breathlessly towards them, coming from the direction of the beach. “Sayid, where’s–?” She pointed up ahead, and he ran on past them. “Sayid!” She could still hear him as Tom and she hurried to catch up with the front of the group. “Sayid, Rousseau’s on the beach. She needs you.”

“Rousseau?” He sounded less surprised than Sarah felt. Does this mean Jack and the others are back already? “What for?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie said, catching his breath.

A new shout reached them from behind, a woman’s voice, much fainter, more distant, but far more piercing, desperate. “Help! Help! Someone, help!” They looked at one another, then Sayid turned and dashed back towards the beach, Charlie close behind him. Dropping their bags, Shannon and Patrick ran with them, disappearing down the path as fast as their legs would carry them. Sarah watched, dazed, her good mood deflating in an instant. She too turned, taking a few uncertain steps after them. Tom grabbed her arm.

“No,” he said firmly. Whatever was happening back there, he did not want her to face it. If the Others had reached the beach already, they were not going to throw themselves uselessly into the path of danger. He turned to the rest of them, speaking up so that all could hear. “I’ll take over from Sayid for the rest of the way. He told us to get to the caves and stay there, so that’s what we’re going to do. Just follow me and we’ll be fine. Jack said he has a plan, remember? We just need to get to the caves, and he’ll tell us what he has planned next.”

“But what if Jack’s at the beach with Rousseau?” Jane asked, anxiously. “If the Others are attacking already…”

“Then we’ll look after ourselves,” Tom said firmly. “We’ll look after one another. Right now the caves are the best place for us to be. We’ll improvise if we have to. All right?”

“All right,” Jane said, not looking entire reassured; some of the others nodded.

“We’re not on our own,” Sarah added, backing her friend up with newfound confidence. He’s right. Of course he’s right. “We have one another. Let’s keep moving. I’ll take Shannon’s bags; Tom will take Sayid’s. Nobody worry. We’ll be fine.”

To her surprise, she found she actually believed it.

It was getting almost dark by the time they reached the caves. Exhausted after dragging Shannon’s heavy bags through the jungle, Sarah dumped them near the water and made her way over to a part of the caves nobody had claimed yet. She pulled her blanket out of her bag and spread it out, lying down with a grateful sigh and without changing out of her clothes. Tom came to sit beside her, leaning against the mildly damp cave wall.

“Now,” he said, looking out towards the small group of castaways, “I suppose we just wait for Jack.”

“I s’pose…” Sarah said. She rubbed her eyes, and turned onto her side, looking at him before closing them. “In the meantime, I’m going to get some rest.”

She could have sworn she could actually hear the smile in his voice. “Do that. I’ll be right nearby.”

She muttered something that sounded rather like ‘Thanks’, and was asleep moments later…

* * *

When she awoke, it was to the sound of a low, almost whispered conversation being held outside the cave. She moaned sleepily, rolling onto her back. From where she was, she could not quite see who was there, but the voices sounded familiar. Tom was nowhere in sight, but she did not worry. He would not have gone far. There was a pause outside, then a voice that was unmistably Sun’s, hushed and hesitant, almost frightened.

“Do you think all this… all that we’ve been through… Do you think we’re being… punished?”

Sarah sat up, slowly. The words stirred something strange and unpleasant in the back of her mind. She gazed out into the half-darkness. Shannon spoke next, and the tone of her voice was odd, weary beyond words. Sarah struggled for the right word to describe it, then clicked her fingers instinctively when she found it. Resigned. Fatalistic… She barely registered the fact that Shannon’s presence meant that those on the beach –or some of them at least– had now made it to the caves safely. Sun’s question had grabbed her attention fully.

“Punished for what?” Shannon asked.

“Things we did before…” Sun said slowly. “The secrets we kept, the lies we told…”

Sarah lay back down quietly. She was still listening, the other women’s voices drifting to her as though disembodied. The suggestion was so unexpected, so profounfly disturbing… and yet she wondered why it had not occurred to her before. She shook her head uneasily. No. That’s just superstition.

“Who do you think is punishing us?”

“Fate,” Sun said simply, yet still hesitatingly, as if concerned that she might actually be right. There was a moment of silence. Sarah wriggled uncomfortably on her blanket.

“No one’s punishing us.” If anything, Claire’s voice sounded more hopeless even than Shannon’s, belying her own words. “There’s no such thing as fate.”

It was quiet after that. Sarah forced herself to close her eyes. “Just superstition…” she whispered to herself. But Sun’s words echoed in her ears. Tentative. A little frightened. As though verging on the edge of some unfathomable truth, yet, at the same time, shying away. Do you think we’re being punished?

“No,” Sarah whispered fiercely, angry at herself for doubting. “Rubbish.”

Sleep came to her fitfully, and for a long while she drifted in and out of uneasy dreams.

* * *

The hustle and bustle of the train station rose around her in a low, steady hum. She descended from the train, hauling her heavy bag off behind her, and made her way through the crowd towards the Sydney airport’s international terminal, her eyes shifting to following the signs. This hub of the Pacific seemed particularly busy today, far more so that the last time she had flown out of Sydney. She grimaced at the memory.

Let’s hope this trip abroad goes a bit better than that one. Well, what could go wrong with visiting L.A.? “Huge city in a country I’ve never been to, where I don’t know anyone except a mother I’ve never seen,” she whispered to herself, pulling her bag along behind her. Still, there was a touch of an excited smile on her face.

Now, I’m looking for flight Oceanic 815, departing 14:55. Simple enough, and she was here with plenty of time to spare. She checked the signposts, and turned into a corridor, heading for the escalator – and walked right into a man coming the other way. The man –tall, dark-skinned, with a muscular build– barely flinched, and Sarah felt as though she had just bounced off him, stumbling back. He dropped his bag, grabbing and steadying her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice was thick with an accent she could not place. “I was distracted. Are you all right?”

“Yes… Yes, fine.” She righted herself, and looked up at him with a slightly embarassed, apologetic smile. “And it was my fault, really. My mind was… elsewhere…” She trailed off as she looked at his face. She frowned, slowly. “I’m sorry… Do I know you from somewhere?”

He met her gaze, his expression kind. When he spoke, his voice was precise, pronouncing every syllable. His voice, too, sounded vaguely familiar. “I do not think so.”

“Oh. Well… Sorry, then.” She managed another awkward smile. “Have a good day, mate.”

As she stepped onto the escalator, she looked back over her shoulder at his retreating figure, wondering. Eventually, she shrugged it off. She had other things to think about. And, most importantly, she had a plane to catch…

* * *

It was night. Few of the survivors were even resting, but Sarah was fast asleep, her breathing quiet and steady. Tom had come by earlier to watch her for a moment, but since then the others had left her where she was. Her section of the caves was in darkness, her silhouette barely visible from the outside.

A whisper.

She woke immediately.

Standing over her, blocking out even the pale glow of the stars, was a small, dark figure, his face in the shadows, soaking wet. She could hear the drip-drip-drip of water from his clothes spattering onto the hard rocky ground. A droplet fell on her hand, icy cold. She shivered, and pulled her arm in, her eyes wide.

“lraep eht ta erom ees lliw uoy. Lraep eht tisiv.”

“What?” She blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, she was alone. She squinted into the darkness. “W- Walt?” she asked, hesitatingly.

But he’s on the raft…

In the entrance of the cave, Shannon appeared. She looked round.
“Are you awake? I thought I heard you talking to someone… Are you all right?”

Sarah looked at her a long time, then lay back, a little dizzy.
“I’m… fine,” she said. “Probably talking in my sleep.”

Shannon nodded, and retreated from view. Sarah glanced out towards the camp, and tried to settle herself down again. She bit her lip, nervously, and, with her arm, wiped the droplet of cold water off her hand…