He lowered the convertible top of the 1967 Mustang, eager to feel the rush of warm wind through his dirty blond hair as he sped down I-95. The car was the one extravagance he allowed himself from the money. For the most part it was honest money, and now that he had it, he was determined to make it last. No more cons. No more quick scores on the backs of the gullible. It took the better part of a lifetime, but James Ford was finally going straight.
The roads were pretty clear for a late Friday afternoon. James had been through Florida many times in his life, it being close to his home state of Alabama. One day, I'm gonna run into someone I took advantage of. That might not be pretty. No, he was sure that all the good works he was determined to do from now on wouldn't matter much if the past came angrily calling.
"Maybe some music," he muttered as he punched the CD button on the stereo. He had come upon a small suburb of Miami when the strains of Bob Marley's "Redemption Song" started wafting through the speakers. James's thoughts traveled back a few years to a doomed seafaring voyage he'd undertaken with new friends, two of which were no longer among the living. Tears began to form in his eyes, but he donned his sunglasses, telling himself it was the just the wind that was making him well up.
"SSSSSSS!" A loud hissing noise came from the Mustang's engine compartment, followed by a sickly grinding sound. Steam, and possibly smoke began to seep from under the hood.
"Son of a bitch!" James exclaimed. He turned off the CD player and began scouting the area for a place to get off the road. Up ahead about a quarter mile, he spied a service station. He carefully pulled in and parked in an available space. He needed a mechanic. Instantly his mind drifted back to what seemed a lifetime ago.
"James!" Juliet yelled. "You home?" Juliet Burke closed the door behind her and walked into the living room. The smell of Italian food wafted through the house.
"Right here, Blondie!" came a voice from the kitchen. James Ford, aka James LaFleur greeted her with a giant hug and kiss.
"Mmm…careful," she said. "I'm covered in grime." Indeed she was, her Dharma Motor Pool jumpsuit was about the filthiest it had ever been.
"What the hell happened?" James said, grinning.
"One of the vans overheated on a trip back from the Flame," she said as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. "Jin and Miles had to go out and bring some personnel back in, and then had to walk back out to the van and push it to the motor pool." She took a long steady sip. "I opened the engine compartment door and the engine basically vomited a ton of oil and grease on me. Good thing I wasn't looking right at it."
"Well, why don't you go ahead and get yourself a shower," James said. "I took off a little early today and made us dinner. It'll be ready when you get out."
"What would I do without you?" Juliet smiled, kissing James one more time before walking away down the hall, peeling off her filthy clothes as she went.
"What are you thinking about?" James asked. Juliet lifted her head off his chest and smiled.
"Really?" Pale moonlight fought bravely to filter through the slats in the window blinds, shining off her eyes.
"What?"
"You are so evolved," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"Usually," she said as she lifted up and rested on one elbow, "it's the girl who asks that question in bed. You know, in your basic romantic movie."
"Well this ain't no movie," James replied, planting a kiss on her forehead.
"Feels like one sometimes."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I was thinking about Rachel," Juliet said.
"Your sister," James said.
"My sister. What if we're stuck here in this time, James? I haven't seen Rachel in over three years, and I've never even met my nephew. Hell, I'm just a kid back home right now, if I even exist at all."
"You're startin' to sound like Miles," James said. "Thank God you don't look like him."
"I'm serious," Juliet sniffed, holding back tears. "I love you James, I really do, but we don't belong here, now."
"I know babe," he said. "If there's a way to get back, I'll find it. Things you and I have seen on this Island tell me, it ain't outside the realm of possibility."
"Until then" she said, "I can't complain too much about the way things have worked out. Good night." Juliet planted a soft kiss on James's lips and eased back down to go to sleep.
"That's not a good sign," the man said. James looked up to see a disheveled man of about sixty years in a raggedy jumpsuit approaching him and his smoking Mustang.
"Tell me something I don't know," James said. "I think it's the water pump."
"Oh yeah?" the man said, wiping his hands on a rag.
"Yeah. A friend of mine was a grease monkey. Taught me a thing or two."
"Well," the man said, "open her up and let's take a look. Name's Jack."
"James," James said, smiling to himself. The two shook hands. Jack leaned over and gazed at the engine. "Your friend taught you well," he said. "Definitely the water pump." He rubbed his hands together. "And definitely not something I have in stock. Not for an old pony like this." He coughed loudly.
"How long would it take to get one? James asked him.
"I could get one out here tomorrow mid-morning," Jack said. "Get you fixed up in no time." Jack motioned for James to follow him to the office. It was a small place, with just a soda machine, a few snacks and a rack of cigarettes behind the counter. Definitely old school, and not one of the convenience store gas stations that seemed to be popping up everywhere.
"There a hotel nearby?" James asked.
"Must be a couple dozen in the area," Jack replied. He opened up an old, tattered Yellow Pages volume from behind the counter and opened it up to the hotels section. "Take your pick."
James found an acceptable location within walking distance and agreed to meet the old man the next day.
James cracked open the mini-bar and opened a cold beer. It's only money, he thought when regarding the exorbitant price list on the door. He sat on the reclining chair in his suite and clicked on the TV. He was both dreading and looking forward to his next day's task. How's she gonna take it? He wondered. The television offered the same list of channels as any other major hotel chain. News, sports, reruns, HBO. James flicked around the line-up, barely paying attention when something caught his ear.
"Whatever happened to these two men, it certainly strains credulity to think they survived one airplane crash together only to disappear on another plane a few years later," said the female voice on the TV. James perked up. "Not only that, Mina," another voice piped in, "but some other members of the Oceanic Six have also since disappeared."
"Oh what the hell?" James said."
"Sayid Jarrah and Sun-Hwa Kwon," the voice continued, "both passengers on the ill-fated flight out of Sydney Australia in 2004, have not been seen since around the same time as the disappearance of Ajira Flight 316 some three years later. This is no coincidence." The speaker was a bespectacled man in his early thirties. James clicked the INFO button on the remote control.
"Modern Mysteries," he said, grumbling. "What the hell is this?"
"I have to agree with you on that, Brent," the host, a woman named Mina replied. "Either these people are up to something, or they are all members of the same bad luck club. As our viewers know, Dr. Jack Shephard was a renowned surgeon from Los Angeles who crashed along with three hundred and twenty-three other passengers aboard Oceanic Flight 815. Of those three hundred and twenty four souls, only six survived. And now four of them are once again, missing. Thank you Brent. Brent Hutton, reporting from Los Angeles. And that's where we'll leave it tonight folks," Mina said. "Join us again next Tuesd-"
"Son of a bitch," James whispered as he shut off the program. He lifted his beer in a toast towards the television screen. "Up yours, Mina."
The late afternoon Albuquerque sun was setting as James Ford rinsed off a plate in his kitchen. He was renting a very nice house on the outskirts of the city, not comfortable with the idea of planting permanent roots, no matter how enticing the idea. All he wanted was to be near his daughter, now that Cassidy had finally let him back into their lives, in whatever slowly expanding way she felt was appropriate. Clementine was gorgeous, just like her mother, and James could see plenty of himself in her face. He just wanted to make sure she turned out to have a better life—to be a better person- than he ever was. There was a knock on the door. This was a surprise, as besides Cassidy and Clem, no one really knew James was here.
James opened the front door and nearly fell over in surprise.
"Dude!" the beefy man on the porch said. "How's it goin'?" He rushed in and picked James up in a giant bear hug.
"Hugo?!" James shouted. Hugo Reyes set him down. "I'll be damned! You made it! Come on in, man! How'd you get off that rock?"
"Turns out it isn't that hard," Hugo replied. "Kind of a magic trick. It can be done, just takes a little work."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," James said, gesturing to the sofa, "but have a seat. Getcha a beer?"
"No thanks," Hugo said. As he sat, he set a large manila envelope on the sofa next to him. "How're things with your daughter, dude?"
"How'd you know about that?" James asked. "For that matter, how'd you find me? Another magic trick?"
Hugo smiled. "Kind of," he replied.
"Last I saw, you were headed back inland as the island was fallin' apart. Hey, what happened to the doc?"
"He didn't make it," Hugo said sadly. "He died…saving the island…saving everyone, really."
"Damn it," James said. "I was hoping he would have some kind of island mojo, like Jacob, some kind of healing or immortality power."
"It was too late," Hugo said.
"So who's runnin' things now? Anyone still on the island?"
"Ben's there, sort of…lookin' over things. Rose and Bernard are still living in their little beach shack with Vincent. Oh, and Walt! We got him back too."
"Wait," James said. "Mike's kid? He's back? And what do you mean 'we got him back?' Who's we?"
"Me and Ben," Hugo said. "Before he…you know, Jack made me the new protector. The new Jacob I guess, or at least the new Jack."
"No kiddin'," James said. "Wait. You tellin' me you're still livin' there? You're still on that damned rock?"
"Yep," Hugo said. "Somebody's gotta run the place, protect it. It's a lot different now. No big black smoke…thing flying around killing people. We're taking care of some things that need to be done."
"You're…taking care of some things?" James asked.
"It's hasn't really been happy work," Hugo said. "A lot of people died. We found Jack, gave him a funeral. And a whole bunch of other people on the other Island too. People from the second flight."
"Wait. Back up. You left Ben in charge?"
"I know dude, I know," Hugo said. "But he's different now. He's...good? I don't know. Not bad or evil anyway. He's been a lot of help, setting things right." Hugo picked up the envelope. "And that…is what I'm doing here." He handed the envelope to James. "I have a little job for you. Might not be pleasant at first, but it's something you're gonna want to do."
James opened the envelope and looked inside. Hugo smiled, recognizing the astonishment on the other man's face.
"Where'd you get these?" James asked.
"Like I said. We've been cleaning up. Got those out of the Dharma barracks."
"And this?" James held up an unlabeled DVD disc. "This sure as hell wasn't in Dharmaville."
"I had it transferred for you," Hugo replied. "I didn't figure you had a VHS player."
"What's on it?"
"You'll see. I think you'll like it. And you aren't the only one."
"And all these…" James said, looking in the envelope. "Some of them I recognize as mine. The rest?"
"Part of the clean-up process. Found them in other buildings, the office. You should see the place now. The Dharma buildings are all spruced up, almost like a resort. You should, you know, come check it out sometime."
"Are you out of your mind?" James snapped back. "No way in hell I'm ever settin' foot back on that rock, Hugo. I don't care if you got casinos with endless beer and showgirls."
"Well," Hugo sighed. "Things change, dude. And if you ever change your mind, or even if you just want to reach me for some reason, call the number on the piece of paper in there," he said, pointing to the envelope. "Just…don't throw it out."
Breakfast was light; a couple eggs-scrambled, toast with butter, orange juice and coffee. As soon as he got back to America, James indulged in what he had been missing for years. Mainland food. Big heaping piles of meat and carbs; all the things he'd been denied on the Island. They barely got to enjoy the Dharma drops before the hatch blew up, all the perishable items had to go. Dharma barracks food in the 70s was better than fish and fruit, but not by a whole lot. Juliet could cook pretty well, and they had decent supplies brought in, but nothing beat a good old fashioned fat feast back home.
The big meals had to end at some point. James was well aware that his clothes were fitting a little more snugly than he'd liked. He didn't know what life off the island had in store for him, but he figured if he wanted to stick around and make the most of it, he'd be better off doing it in shape.
After breakfast he headed down to the hotel gym. These things were usually pretty barren; a couple treadmills, maybe some cable weight contraption in the corner. He climbed onto one of the two exercise bikes in the room and began pedaling. In addition to the bikes, there were the requisite treadmills, a couple ellipticals, a cable and plate weight system and a stairclimber. As hotel fitness centers went, this one was a bit above standard. It even featured individual TV screens mounted to each of the machines. That was one of the things that bothered him the most since returning; everybody was online on something. James remembered what it was like being on the island, especially back in the mid-seventies. People were forced to talk to each other, to make actual connections. None of this continual digital crap. A simple cellphone was all he had, and that was really only to stay in touch with Clementine.
As if on cue, his phone began vibrating in his pocket. Without stopping his pedaling, he fished the phone from his pocket and took the call.
"Hello," he said, matter-of-factly.
"It's me," said the female voice from the other end of the call.
"Cass," James said. He stopped pedaling and stood up off the bike. "Is everything okay? Somethin' wrong with Clem?"
"Nothing wrong," she replied. "She's fine. I want you to know…I didn't want to make this call, but I didn't really have many other choices."
"What do you mean?" James asked.
"I need some money," Cassidy said.
"Well hell, darlin'" James said. "All you had to do was say so."
"Don't try to turn on the charm. The money from Kate went to pay off the house, and we both agreed not to touch the money you put in Clem's bank account. It's just—"
"It's just what?"
"I don't want you to think that this is going to let you back into my life, that's all." She sighed. "You can be a daddy to your daughter, but that's as far as it goes."
"Well no kiddin'. If you recall, you sent me to prison. I think I know better than to mess around in your life anymore," James said.
"As long as we understand each other," Cassidy replied. "You say you're a changed man, and I'd like to believe that."
"Just tell me what you need," James replied, "and I'll get it to you."
"Well that's the other thing" she said. "I don't need much, but I don't want you helping me out by doing to someone else what you did to me."
"That's my past, Cass. I'm completely legit now. So just tell me how much money you need, and I'll get it to ya."
The flight had been, after a miraculous take-off, surprisingly smooth for the first half hour. James was anxious at first that the force that had kept boats and other craft from leaving the island would pull this plane back to that damned place as well. He needn't have worried. Whatever had kept folks from leaving before was having no such influence on them as they soared away. No, there was a whole new set of concerns. The plane was damaged, and wasn't carrying much fuel. How far could they go?
After about forty minutes of flying, during which no one said a word, Frank Lapidus emerged from the cockpit and approached the passengers.
"I've got her on auto-pilot for a while," he announced. "I figure we need to talk." He stood in the aisle in a spot equidistant to everyone and spoke in a clear, loud voice so that he could be hear over the roar of the plane's engines.
"About five minutes ago," he continued, "we got far enough from those islands to restore radio contact. Now obviously we can't just land this bird anywhere we want. This plane disappeared a couple weeks ago, along with more passengers and crew than we currently have onboard. That would be pretty hard to explain. Unfortunately, we only have enough fuel to get to a handful of places.
"We can't go to Guam. That is a United States territory and is almost entirely military. So we're heading to Saipan. I was able to get hold of a buddy of mine, works the tower at a small airport there. There's a disused back runway there where I can set this thing down. The tarmac is crap, so it'll be a rough landing. Nothing you folks haven't experienced before. He'll take care of ditching the plane. We'll make it, but then we have some work to do."
"What do you mean work?" Miles asked.
"Obviously we can't just go about getting tickets on a flight stateside. Two of you are supposed to be dead," he said, looking first at James and then Claire. "One of you doesn't exist," he said gesturing towards Richard. "I have no idea what story you're gonna tell Kate, or you Miles. Hell, people probably think I'm dead too!" Lapidus exclaimed.
"So we need identities," James said. "I can take care of that."
"That's what I was hoping for," Lapidus said. "How long you figure it'll take?"
"I'll need at least three, maybe four days," he replied. "We'll need to take pictures, and I'll need internet access to get the materials to a friend of mine. He can get us set up and overnight everything back to us."
"Sounds do-able," Lapidus said. "I'll have my friend get us a few hotel rooms, maybe borrow a laptop. Once we get the papers, we'll set up travel back to the U.S."
"We need to fly into a small hub, no major cities," Kate said. "I'm kind of infamous back home, or at least I was. I'm not supposed to leave California. I can't get recognized."
"All right," Lapidus said. "We should be landing in a couple of hours. I recommend you all try to get some rest if you can." He turned and went back to the cockpit.
The passengers exchanged glances with each other. Claire and Kate leaned back and closed their eyes. Richard stared out the window. Miles got out of his seat and sat down by James.
"Jim," he said. "You gotta minute?"
"What's on your mind, Enos?"
"What are you gonna do when we get stateside? What are your plans?"
"Well I hadn't really thought about it, Miles," he said sitting up in his seat. "Been kinda busy not getting' swallowed up by the earth, you know?"
"I get that." Miles said.
"What about you?"
"You're gonna think this is funny," Miles said. "But that whole time we were working for the D.I.? I was thinking if I ever get outta here, I'm gonna become a cop."
"A cop? You wanna walk a beat, Genghis? I thought you'd wanna keep doin' your commune-with-the-dead thing."
"Well," Miles said. "It would be easy enough to go back to that. But we ran Dharma security for three years. I kind of got a taste for it. I wasthinking on making it a career."
"You werethinking about it?" James replied. "Not anymore?"
"That's kind of why I came over here to talk to you, Jim. Let you in on a little secret. You remember those two sad sacks you buried on the island? Nikki and Paolo?"
"Yeah, I do. What about em? Wait a minute. You talk to them? You know who killed 'em, don't ya?" James asked.
Miles shifted a little in his seat. He carefully considered his next words. "Yes, I do."
"Well who was it, Enos? Speak up."
"Venomous spider," Miles replied. "They got bit by a deadly spider. But that's not why I'm bringing them up. Put out your hand."
"Put out my hand? What're you up to?"
"Just do it," Miles insisted. James extended his left hand, giving Miles a wary look. Miles dropped a handful of gorgeous, brilliant diamonds into James's palm.
"Son of a bitch," James whispered. "What the hell'd you do? Dig up their corpses?" Miles nodded slightly.
"Did you think I was gonna leave eight million dollars worth of diamonds lying in the dirt?"
"I guess," James said, swiveling his hands slightly to catch the gleam off the stones in the light of the window, "you don't need to be a cop anymore. Or have any other job, huh?" He closed his fist around the gems and extended his hand over to Miles.
"No," Miles said, pushing James's hand back. "Those are for you." James looked at Miles wide-eyed. "That's probably about three million dollars right there. I'm giving them to you."
"Why on earth are you doin' that?" James asked.
"You saved my bacon more than a couple times back there, Jim. The whole LaFleur thing? Those were not trusting people in the D.I. There were some scary units there. Radzinsky, Phil. They'd just as soon killed us as helped us out. I figure I owe you."
"You don't owe me anything, Miles," James said.
"All the same, take 'em," Miles answered. "You deserve a good break in life for once. I've got plenty left over. Not taking no for an answer."
"Well hell, man. If you insist." James said placing the diamonds in his pants pocket.
James put his cell phone back in his pocket and jumped back on the exercise bike. Cassidy hadn't needed that much. And James certainly had enough to cover the bill. He hated that she didn't trust him, but that was something that was going to have to be earned. Or at the least, she would have to learn to more pleasantly regard his presence when he did visit their daughter. As time went by, he was sure her scowls would turn to smiles or at least blank stares eventually.
After his workout, he headed back up to his room for a shower and gave ol' Jack the mechanic a call. The water pump had come in, and Jack was about halfway through putting it in at that very moment. James hung up, checked out of the hotel and headed over to the garage.
Ol' Jack was just finishing up under the hood when James approached.
"Havin' any problems with her?" he asked, setting down his duffel.
The old mechanic grunted and leaned over to regard James from the front of the car. His face was dirtier than the day before.
"I don't think so," he replied. "Wasn't sure at first they sent me the right part. Seemed a little big 'pon first look. Pretty sure I got her all ironed out though." Jack grabbed the rag that was hanging off his belt and wiped his hands. "Keys are in it," he said. "Go ahead and turn her over."
James threw his duffel bag in the back seat and sat down behind the wheel. He turned the key and the Mustang's engine roared to life. He nodded his head in quiet victory. He closed his eyes and relaxed for a moment. Jack closed the hood and approached the driver's side.
"It worked," he said.
James quickly turned his head to look at the man, the words familiar and stinging enough to grab his attention and break his reverie.
"What did you say?" He rasped.
"It worked," Jack repeated. "Everything looks good. Come on in and we'll sort out the paperwork." Jack turned and headed for the office. James shakily let out the breath he'd been holding. It had been eight months since Juliet died, but it seemed as vivid as yesterday, and every now and then something happened that took him right back to that horrible day on the island. He shut down the car and headed inside to pay for the repairs.
James gunned the Mustang up to sixty-five once he got back on I-95. Another fifteen minutes or so and he would arrive at his destination. How would she take it? He wondered. His mood grew somber. He was both dreading and looking forward to what he had to do next.
He arrived at the house and realized he didn't remember the last ten minutes. He was on autopilot, mind rambling from one thought to another, providing him with just enough presence and motor skill to operate the car and make the correct turns. Weird how the brain can compartmentalize like that, he thought.
He parked the car at the curb and reached to the back seat to retrieve the duffel. From it he withdrew the envelope Hugo had given him. He held it gingerly in his hands while he thought about the next step. He let out a bittersweet sigh, got out of the car and walked the brick steps up to the front door.
"This is for you, babe," he said quietly as he knocked on the door. He could hear someone approaching after a few seconds. The door opened.
"Hello?" A pleasant looking brunette answered the door. "Can I help you?" She asked.
"Uh, hi," James said. "Are you Rachel Carlson?"
"Who wants to know?" She said, eyeing him suspiciously. She looked down at the envelope in his hand. "What is that? A summons? Or if you're selling something-"
"No," James interjected. "I um, how do I put this? I knew your sister. Juliet. I was hoping I could talk to you about Juliet."
"Who the hell are you?" Rachel asked. Any trace of pleasantness evaporated from Rachel's face.
"My name is James LaFleur. I knew Juliet. She was the love of my life."
"You knew her," Rachel restated. "Are you telling me she's dead? If that's what you came here to tell me, I pretty much figured that out after not hearing from her for so long."
"Yes she is," James said sadly. "Can I come in? I'd like to show you some things."
"I don't think so," Rachel replied. "I don't know you. How do I know you even knew her? I'm not in the habit of letting strange men into my home." She began to close the door. "I think you better leave."
"Wait!" James said. "Just, look at this." He opened the envelope and withdrew a yellowed and weathered Polaroid picture. He handed it to Rachel.
The picture was of James and Juliet sitting on a couch in one of the Dharma barrack houses. Rachel stared at it for a second and began to hand it back to James, when something in the photo caught her eye. She stared at it intently for a few seconds.
"Where'd you get this?" She asked.
"This was taken-" James said.
"I don't care when or where it was taken," she said angrily. She pointed to the picture, at one of the figures in the background. "This guy. Where is he?" James leaned over and looked at the photo.
"Who? Richard?" He asked. "I'm not sure where he is right now."
"Dr. Richard Alpert," Rachel replied. "You know him?"
"Doctor?" James asked. "I mean, yeah, I know him. I didn't know he was a doctor, but I know Richard."
"What else do you have in that envelope?" Rachel asked.
"More of the same," James said.
"I think you better come on in," Rachel said. She backed away from the door and gestured for James to come in. She led him to the living room and motioned for him to sit on the sofa.
"Would you like something to drink?" She asked, with a slightly impatient tone in her voice.
"No thanks," he replied. He reached into the envelope and pulled out several more pictures. He set the envelope on the ground and handed the photos to Rachel. She studied them for a while before finally speaking.
"Okay, you have a lot of pictures of my sister," Rachel said. "What is that supposed to mean to me? Does it prove you knew her? I suppose. I don't think the pictures are fakes. What is it you want from me?"
"Nothing!" James said. "I didn't come here to get anything. I just came here to talk to you about Juliet. About what she did. About how she-"
"So tell me about Richard Alpert," she said.
"Ms. Carson," he said. "Can I call you Rachel?" She nodded. "Rachel, I've come a long way to talk to you about Juliet. You sure you want to talk about Richard Alpert?"
"Damn right I do," she said. "That bastard took my sister from me. Six months, he said. Six months working in cutting edge science with his company. After she was gone a year, I started searching for him and his Mittelos Bioscience. I even went to Portland."
"Portland?"
"Yeah, Portland. The last time I saw Juliet, the day he took her away, she told me they were based in Portland. So I went there. And you know what I found? Nothing. There was no Mittelos Bioscience building there. There was no evidence of there ever having been one."
"I'm not sure I understand," James said.
"The building was empty. I even hired a private investigator to search these guys out. Nothing. Not even a trace," she said.
"I'm not surprised he didn't find anything," James offered.
"Why's that?"
"That's just the way these people are. Or were. I don't know. But if they really wanted Juliet to come to the island to work on their fertility problems, they would've done whatever it took to get her there. I know Alpert recruited her, but-"
"Island?" Rachel said. "What island?"
James leaned back and sighed. "You know what? If it's still on offer, I'll take that drink now. Beer, if you got it. And I suggest you get yourself one."
Rachel set her beer down and looked at the pictures once again. There were over a dozen, all taken with a Polaroid camera, all somewhat yellowed by time.
"1975. That's what you're telling me? 1975? Do you think I'm stupid?"
"I understand," James said. "If it hadn't happened to me, I'd think I was full of it too. But Rachel, it happened."
"Alpert took her to this mysterious island and this guy, this Linus character, he kept her there for three years until the island went back in time to the seventies? That's what you're saying?"
"Linus doesn't matter. It was his idea to bring her there, yeah. He was just trying to stop all the pregnant women from dyin'. Thought Juliet could help."
"Why are you doing this?" Rachel looked up with tears in her eyes. "I have to pick my son up from school in an hour, and I'm a mess! What do you want from me?!"
"Julian," James said. "Juliet was very touched that you named him that."
"With a little digging, anyone could have found out my son's name. Do you think that bolsters your case? Do you honestly think I believe all this crap?"
"Juliet told me his name. And it was Ben Linus that told her. She didn't even know if it was true. He wouldn't let her have any contact with you or anyone else while she was there. He was a diabolical son of a bitch, that one," James said.
"So this island jumps back to 1975 and takes you, Juliet and all these…Dharma people with it, right?"
"Sort of. It did a bit of a history tour before it stopped in 1975," James said.
"Whatever that means. And then Juliet set off a nuclear bomb that sent it back to last year, right? "Rachel said. "That's what you want me to believe."
"Look," James said. "I didn't come here to upset you. I thought you might want some…closure."
"How is this helping? I don't believe any of it!"
Okay," James said. "I completely understand that. I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes. Can I just play you somethin' on your DVD player over there? I promise I'll leave after that." Rachel waved dismissively in the direction of the entertainment center against the back wall.
"Go ahead," she said.
James placed the DVD Hugo had given him in the DVD player and pressed PLAY. A few seconds later, grainy video appeared on the TV screen. At first there was no sound, as the camera panned across what looked to be some kind of party. People dressed in beige jumpsuits walked around drunkenly, hugging each other, practically every one of them with a drink in their hand.
Sound came on abruptly, but it was hard to make out. The loud strains of some kind of classic rock and roll blared from a stereo somewhere in the room. The shaky footage focused in on two people, a man and woman in their mid-to-late thirties.
"Horace? Amy? Any message you would like to record for posterity?" The unseen cameraman asked. The man identified as Horace spoke up.
"Up yours, Paul!" He said, giggling. The woman elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow!" Horace said. "Okay, okay. Um, Happy New Year everybody!"
"Yes," Amy shouted. "Happy New Year and happy bicren- bicentennial!" She drunkenly added. The cameraman moved on, weaving his way through the party. Most of the footage was out of focus and the conversation was mostly unintelligible. Finally the camera focused on two people sitting in a corner on a small sofa.
"Oh my God," Rachel whispered.
"Jim! Juliet!" The cameraman yelled. "Say something to the folks back home! Send a message to the mainland!"
Juliet looked up and smiled at the camera. She had a glass of champagne in her hand and was wearing a goofy looking party hat with "1976" spelled out in glitter across the front.
"Happy New Year everyone!" She yelled. To her left, a somewhat more reserved James LaFleur sat, beer in hand.
"She's usually not like this," he said, laughing.
"I want to send my love to everyone back home," Juliet continued, "including my baby sister. Or my big sister, but she's younger than me right now I think. I don't know! Happy New Year Rachel!"
"Jim," the cameraman yelled, laughing, "she is plastered!"
James winced a bit and smiled weakly for the camera, shrugging his shoulders. The camera moved away and on to the rest of the party. A few seconds later, the footage stopped. James stood up and approached the television. He looked at Rachel. Her head was buried in her hands as she wept softly.
"Wait!" She said. "I'm gonna want to watch that again."
Several minutes later, a composed and calm Rachel Carlson sat opposite James LaFleur on her living room sofa. The puffy signs of her crying were starting to fade from her eyes.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome," James replied.
"And you two…she…she was happy there?"
"I think she was, yeah."
"I appreciate you showing me this," she sniffed.
"It was the least I could do. If there's anything else you need, anything at all, you just let me know," James said.
"There is one thing," Rachel answered.
"Name it."
"Take me there," she said. "Take me to the island."
"No. No way," James said, standing up. He gathered up the photos and stacked them neatly on the coffee table in front of him. "That I can't do."
"You said anything," Rachel said.
"I know," he answered. "I thought maybe you might need some money, or might want me to tell the story to Julian. That's what I meant."
"You said anything," Rachel repeated. "I want to see where Juliet lived…and died. I want to see where she's buried." James stared at her sternly. He sighed, pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "Can I use your phone?" He asked.
"It's right over there," Rachel replied.
"Son of a bitch," James said.
