"She's the queen of all I've seen/And every song and city far and near…"
The lyrics to Oasis' "Lyla" drifted down the beach. The source of the song was Charlie Pace, who was laying back on the sand, humming the love ballad while watching the waves crash on the shore.
"Heyyyyy, Claireeeeeeee/The star's about to fall…"
He switched out the lyrics of the song for Claire, the Australian woman that he'd fallen in love with on the island. His gaze swept over the waves. His singing faltered, however, as he spotted something buried in the sand. After staring at it for a few minutes, he pushed himself to his feet and ambled over to the object. Once he identified it, he sucked in a quick breath.
It was a statue. Not just any statue, but a statue of the Virgin Mary. A statue that he had tried desperately; so, so desperately; to rid himself of. He bent down, and dug the statue out of the ground. Slowly, he stood back up, holding the sand-covered Mary in trembling hands.
"Hey, Charlie!"
The emotional Brit whipped his head around, even though he knew who had addressed him. It was Desmond, the Scottish man that they'd found in the hatch. He and Charlie had slowly become close friends. But, right now, he didn't want to see anyone.
Charlie turned back around as the Scotsman got closer, hunching over the statue. "Oh, hey Desmond," he muttered.
Desmond lifted an eyebrow. "What's wrong, brother?" he asked.
Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Nothing," he snapped. He instantly regretted it, knowing that Desmond would now know that something was wrong.
Desmond put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Charlie, are you okay?" He started to pull at Charlie's shoulder.
"Leave me alone!" Charlie tried to yank his shoulder out of Desmond's grip, but the older man was stronger. Charlie stumbled back, dropping the statue onto the sand. It landed with a gentle 'thud'.
Desmond bent over and picked it up, despite Charlie's attempts to push him away. He looked at it a moment. "Where'd you get this, Charlie?"
"It's none of your business." With that, the shorter man tried to grab the statue, but Desmond held on. The result was a struggle. After a few moments, both let go, and the statue went flying, gliding over the beach and landing a few feet away. The impact broke the statue into four different pieces.
"No!" Charlie started to run, but Desmond was faster. He reached the broken Mary, and looked down at the small baggies that had been nestled inside the statue. He bent down, picked up a bag, and stood once more. One glance and he knew what it was.
"Heroin, brother?" Desmond was speechless. Charlie winced; he'd hoped that Desmond wouldn't find out, but, at the moment, Charlie had some explaining to do.
"Listen, Des, I know you're mad." The Brit had his hands held up, as in defense. "But I'm not using! I-"
"You keep telling yourself that, don't you, brother?" He spat the last words. Charlie's eyes widened. He knew that Desmond wouldn't be pleased, but he never imagined he'd act like this.
"It's the truth!" Charlie shouted, a little scared. "I just found it, I haven't used in-"
"Stop LYING!" Desmond threw the baggie down so hard that it sunk into the compacted sand. Charlie glanced down at the quarter-sized hole, and looked up to see Desmond's face twisted with fury. Charlie shrunk backward.
"Des, listen-"
"No, you listen, brother!" Desmond's fists clenched. "Heroin…it…it…it…" Desmond looked lost; he continued stuttering until Charlie thought of something.
"You…you used too, didn't you!" Charlie glared at the Scotsman, filled with rage. "You're spouting wisdom at me when you made the same mistake!"
Desmond was shocked. "Same mistake…" He narrowed his eyes. "How dare you accuse me of using heroin! You don't even know-"
"Oh, don't give me that!" Charlie shouted. "That's what we all say!"
"WE?" Desmond's face was furious beyond recognition. He grabbed Charlie's shirt and lifted the smaller man off the ground. "You have to stop, brother. You can't keep on with dru-"
Crack!
Desmond dropped the Brit, his hand flying up to hold his nose, blood flowing down his face. "Br-bro-" Desmond tried to mutter a phrase of mercy, but a punch to the chest knocked the wind out of him. Charlie grabbed a fragment of the broken Mary.
"Admit it!" Charlie barked. "Admit you were a junkie! Admit you had everyone look at you like some sort of freak!" He shook his head. "And you dared to lecture me about drugs?"
"Charlie…" Desmond lifted his bloody hands in surrender. "Please, I was never on drugs, I-"
"LIAR!" Charlie lashed out with the shard of porcelain, rage consuming him. His fists pummeled; the shard slashed. Desmond refused to fight; he curled up and tried to shove Charlie away.
Finally, Desmond lay on the ground, bleeding and broken. Charlie glared down at him, dropped the bloody shard, and delivered one last kick to Desmond's stomach. The enraged musician started to walk off, but turned around to face Desmond.
"Junkie." He spat the words, spit flying into Desmond's face. Charlie returned to his guitar, but didn't play.
-x-X-x-
About five minutes later, a group was coming back to the beach after looking for a new place to harvest papayas. Kate ran in front, impatient to find Charlie. The new papaya tree was so high up, Charlie wouldn't be able to help pick, and the ex-fugitive was in a teasing mood.
"Should we let her do it?" Sun asked Jack as they walked. Sawyer, just behind them, let out an indignant snort.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Munchkin's tough; he can take it."
Sun nodded, but still looked unsure. Sayid, the last of the party, chuckled.
"Jack!"
The group froze in shock, terrified by Kate's scream of horror.
"Move, you morons!"
Sawyer's command snapped the group out of their trance. They took off at a run, reaching the beach in minutes.
They saw Kate, standing over Desmond.
He wasn't moving.
His clothes were ripped, his skin cut and bruised. The sand around him was soaked with blood. Jack ran to him immediately. The rest of them came behind, stunned into silence.
Sawyer looked down at Desmond. "Damn…" he muttered. "What'd he do to deserve this?"
-x-X-x-
From the forest, a pair of ice blue eyes glared out, burning with anger.