No Lost Love

by Absolutely 4th

A/N: My first Lost story so go easy on me :) Constructive Criticism is allowed, however I will not tolerate flaming.

Disclaimer: This belongs to the all-might J.J. Abbrams. ponders on making cult

I own nothing except for Emily!

Spoilers: There may be a couple little things here and there so watch out because I have no idea what I'm going to add yet, but what I do know is that I will use script dialogue.

I'd like to show my gratitude to: Dris (I'm Still Drizzy) thanks for all the help :)

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On a hot spring morning, the bowing 57 left Australia to reach its destination of the United States of America. Emily Umay Talia sat patiently in the middle row, between a bald gentleman, and a snobby businessman, who went by the name of Francis Tyler. The man to her left had been most kind and generous towards her. His name was John Locke, and he spoke about many things, and most of them ended in riddles, which confused her greatly, nonetheless it helped pass the time by. She told him about him about school, and most importantly, her work. Photography was what she lived for. It brought her joy when she was in chaos. Little did she know that it would help her in the coming weeks from something she would not expect. The businessman never spoke to her except when he needed to pass and make a phone call in the coach section. His attitude drove her mad, and was glad to be next to the man, Locke who calmed her down.

She sat in an airplane bound for the place she had called home for the last ten years. The place where she might never see again, but something like that never crossed her mind. Airplanes were safe. People used them everyday, and they had trained men and women who flew the birds. Nothing would prepare her for what would happen in the next half hour...

"Move," the malicious business man told her.

Emily looked up from the magazine she was reading. "Excuse me?" she said, a bit agitated.

Before he could throw in a few insults, Locke stood up from his seat, and cleared his throat. He looked at Emily who pouted, and muttered incoherent words. She stood, and let him pass.

"Bunch of bloody idiots," he said with disgust as he walked past them. Emily began to walk out of the narrow isle to smack sense into the Francis, but was stopped by a strong hand that held onto her arm.

"Alright, but I'm not going to stand up for the jerk when he returns. Let him struggle his way through," she mumbled, slouching back into her seat. Locke laughed, and shook his head, but Emily didn't find anything funny about it.

"A clever person turns great problems into little ones and little ones into none at all," he told her, gently, a wry smile on his face. He caught her rolling her eyes, and look back at the magazine in front of her. He tilted his head, and began reading the first few lines: Is your boyfriend cheating? Take this quiz to find out.

He blinked, and looked ahead. Kids these days. "Umm... Emily, are you seeing anyone?" he asked.

"No," she said, plainly, as she threw a few peanuts into her mouth. She didn't look up at him, and continued the quiz. "You asking me out, Mr. Locke?" she laughed, finally bringing her head up.

Locke stared, surprisingly at the brunette beside him. Her hazel eyes shined as she smiled. He decided that she wasn't a bad looking girl. Gorgeous, to be exact. He knew that all the boys were after her, yet since she didn't have a boyfriend he came to the conclusion that she was to busy with College and her Photography to be doing anything else. He saw her as his daughter that he never had, or will. He smiled sadly at the thought of what he left behind...

"Locke? Yoo hoo," she said, waving a hand in front of his face. He smiled, and was about to reply, but stopped. His smile faded as a sound of loud moaning, and scraping of metal. This was bad. "Emily, put your seatbelt on," he told her.

She did as she was told. He had a serious tone in his voice. Something was wrong. She also heard the noises, and it freaked her out. Her hands fumbled with the seatbelt, which were trembling violently. "John, it isn't wor-..." she stopped short, never able to complete the sentence.

The airplane tore open, items flew everywhere. Something hit Emily in the head, making her fall unconscious. She vaguely heard Locke curse and felt him grab on to her...

---

It had been a few hours, and Emily lay on the beach of the terrible disaster. She was unconscious, and Locke had been by her side the entire time. He placed her head on his leg, and cleaned the large gash on her head with a rag.

From the pain, her eyes shot open. "Just a dream," she assumed, trying to focus on the being that held her. 'Locke,' she thought, puzzled. He was in her dream. The dream that she was leaving Australia to go back home, but something happened along the way, and the plane began to fall apart.

"Was not a dream, dear. We crashed, but we are very lucky or unlucky to have survived. We are yet to find out," he said, softly. There was a slash beginning from his eyebrow, over his eye and stopped right above the cheekbone. Astonishingly it reminded her of Scar from the Lion King... Crash? Hm...

"Wait. WHAT?! We crashed. No, that isn't possible. I'm just having a dream, which is... Inside another dream," she said, frantically, and looked up at Locke. "This is a dream, right?"

Locke shook his head, and brushed a few strand of hair away from her face. "I'm afraid it isn't a dream, inside another dream. Now, I'm going to look for some help, or something to put on that cut of yours. Just sit tight," he smiled as he spoke. He left her, on the beach, all alone.

She forced herself up into a sitting position, one which made her head spin. This was the first look at the chaotic tragedy. Her mouth formed an oval shape as she looked at the damage. People lay scattered across the beach; dead or alive. The airplane pieces were everywhere, and one of the engines was still running, which she deemed was a very bad thing. She wondered how long it would take them to be located...

"No use sitting here doing nothing," she said, standing to her feet. Might as well help a few people. She took a few steps, and glanced back at the running Jet engine. A familiar face appeared by it, Locke. Her eyes widened in fear. She froze in place, unable to scream, just watch.

"Stay away from the gas!" Locke shouted the warning at a man who was walking near the jet engine. The man appeared in turmoil. A few feet from Locke was a young girl, maybe in her late teens, early twenties. She was dressed in highly fashionable clothes, and was screaming at the top of her lungs.

There seemed to be a man trapped near the engine. A dark haired man told Locke to get him to safety, and left. Locke with the help of another person helped the man with the injured leg to a safer distance from the wreckage. After placing the man down, he turned back into the direction of the plane's engine. A man who he had told before to stay away from it was still there.

"Hey! Hey, hey, get away!" he shouted at the man. The man stopped in front of the engine.

"What?" he said, looking at Locke who was motioning for him to get away.

"Get away! Get away!" Locke yelled, his hands in the air pointing to another direction, but it was too late. The man got sucked into the whirring engine. The engine exploded sending debris everywhere. One flew by Emily's head, and she dropped to the ground.

---

A few yards down the beach from where Emily was, lay a middle aged woman in pink. It was unclear what was wrong with her, but by the looks of it, it was bad.

"Oh shit," was the words that came out of a young man who had striking blue eyes. He fell to his knees beside the woman, and checked for a pulse. He immediately began CPR on the woman. Another man appeared behind him.

"Stop. Her head's not tilted far back enough. You're blowing air into her stomach," he told him. The young man watched as the doctor tilted the woman's head back, and began breathing into her mouth.

"Are you sure? That's exactly what I was doing. I'm a lifeguard. I'm licensed," the dark haired man told the doctor.

"Yeah, well, you need to seriously think about giving that license back," the doctor told him as he continued the breathing. The young man, Boone stared, a bit taken back. He looked at the woman, and an idea popped into his head.

"Maybe we should do one of those hole things. You know stick that pen in the throat?" he asked as the doctor began compressions on the woman's chest.

The doctor nodded. "Yeah, good idea. You go get me a pen."

Boone scrambled up to his feet and left the doctor with the woman and went off to find a pen. "Do you have a pen? Does anyone have a pen?" he asked random people around him. He asked every person he passed by, but they either told him that they had none, or they just completely ignored him.

"A woman's life is on the line," he said, his voice filled with anger. He looked out onto the beach and saw a young girl who seemed to be around the same age as him, laid sprawled across the ground. He ran to her side, and helped her up. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked as she looked around. She didn't answer him, and it appeared that something else was on her mind. "Hello? A thank you would be nice," he told her.

She turned to face him and muttered something he did not understand. Sadness, and grief filled her eyes, but Boone did not feel the least bit sorry, because everyone on the island was feeling the same thing. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"Never mind... Do you have any pens?" he asked, softly, contrast to the fury from before. Emily stared at him, his eyes gazing intensely at her. He had chocolate shaggy hair, and his eyes were by far one of his most striking features, like an ocean after a storm. He wore cargo pants, and a plain t-shirt, both were dirty.

She looked back up, and saw him waiting patiently. "No," she whispered, looking away from him. Where was John? He could be hurt or...

"Thanks, but you really should get that cut checked out. There's a doctor around here somewhere," he told her, pointing into the direction of where Jack was. "What's your name?" she asked him.

"My name is Boone," he said, smiling. "Mine's Emily. Nice to meet you, Boone. Maybe we'll talk soon, but I think you should finish your task in retrieving pens," she said sheepishly. His eyes widened, and without a second thought he began to run, and look for pens.

She watched Boone run off and look for pens. What she didn't see was someone approaching her. A hand touched her shoulder, and a gasp emitted from her throat. She turned around to see a heavy set man with a woman beside him. She was very much pregnant, and seemed to be in a lot of pain.

"I'm sorry, miss for startling you, but do you have any clue about babies?" he asked, looking back down at the fair-headed woman. He looked at her with pleading eyes.

Men.

They knew absolutely nothing about everything. She sighed, and nodded. "Well, I am a female. I'm Emily," she told them both, and crouched down beside the English woman. "How many minutes are you between contractions?" she asked, looking at her own watch, which unexpectedly stopped.

"Hello, Emily. I'm Claire-.." the heavy set man cut her off.

"Needs A Lot of Sedative!" he said, quickly. Just as fast as he spoke, two hands swiftly hit him. He made a face at both of them. Claire cried out in pain, her breathing was strenuous, and it seemed like she was going to have the baby. "I forgot how many minutes, Hurley here is supposed to be the one keeping the time," Claire said between breaths.

Hurley shrugged, his curly hair bobbing with his motion. "I guess around five or six minutes apart." Emily nodded and laid beside Claire, and took her hand. "You really should calm down. I don't think you're going to have the baby anytime soon, but if you keep stressing yourself out, you will," she told her, softly. Emily wanted her to stay relaxed as long as possible. She told her how they would be coming shortly; because of the black box on the aircraft.

She looked around for the doctor to check on Claire, but couldn't spot him anywhere. Instead she caught sight of Boone, the pen less man from before, but now he had not one, but about fifteen pens in his hand...

Boone finally found Jack who was around some of the plane wreckage. "I didn't know which one worked best," he said, panting.

Jack didn't respond quickly, but just stared at Boone. Finally he spoke, "They're all good. Thanks." He took them, and walked away.

Boone stared at him oddly...

---

Time passed by slowly. Everyone camped on the beach, and waited, and waited, and waited. No one came. We assured each other that someone would come. They just had to. None of the stranded survivors spoke to each other which made the time to lapse, or so Emily thought.

She was huddled in a blanket beside the fire. The flames danced in her eyes. She could feel the heat against her skin. Silent tears stained her cheek, as did everyone else. Each had their moment of break down...

Except for John Locke, who seemed to be taking this in stride. As if his car had just broken down, and was patiently waiting for the tow truck, which in their case would probably never come...

Emily stood, and took fruit along with a spare blanket. She squinted, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, contrast to the light of the fire. Her brown eyes glanced around the camp. Claire, the pregnant woman was sitting beside Hurley. Both were eating, and seemed to be trying to make the better of their situation.

Sayid, a military officer from the Middle East, and Charlie who supposedly is from the band, Driveshaft, both left to collect wood to make the camp fire larger.

Shannon and Boone sat together, apparently not talking. She was painting her nails while Boone was offering chocolate.

Emily got to her feet, and walked over to Locke who was in the same location as before. "John," she said quietly, breaking the long silence. "Don't you want to sit at the fire?"

He shook his head, and was about to speak, but there was an eerie sound. She swallowed hard, and stared at the forest.

"What was that?"