Getting Lost
A/N: My first Lost fic, although on the off chance it seems familiar to anyone, I did start it ages ago and had it posted under my old account. Basically it's all part of my plan to actually finish things I start, hence the moving the fics I'm still working on to this, my shiny new account. Plot-wise, I can't really say too much at the start without spoiling it, so I'll just mention that it's Charlie-centric and also pretty much Charlie/Claire but with some of my own characters thrown in along with the usual suspects.
Prologue
Sweat beaded on his forehead, he passed his forearm over his face to wipe it away and then stayed perfectly still. Listening, praying. Silence … No, wait – there it was again. Left, this time. Or was it right? It was hard to tell and a mistake would be costly. Deadly.
It took all the willpower he had to stay put, but then he knew a lot about willpower. He could have done without the added test though, that was for sure. What a choice – stay and hope he was well enough hidden or make a run for it and hope he was fast enough. Fast enough for what, that was the question – where could he run to? So far they had associated the jungle with hidden danger and the beach with safety, but who was to say that would be the case? If he made it as far as the golden sand … what then? Would It – whatever It was – stay under cover or simply continue the chase until it's undoubtedly gruesome conclusion? Would he escape or unwittingly put the others in danger?
Too late.
The choice was made for him and he had to run. And run as if his life depended on it, for it did. He may not understand what's going on in this place, but that he knows as well as he knows his own name so Charlie Pace did what any self-respecting rock god would do in the face of certain death – legged it. Sharpish.
Fighting for breath, he ran and ran, forcing his way through the tangled undergrowth. And when he thought his lungs would burst in his chest, he put his head down and ran some more. Tripping over fallen branches, hidden rocks and long grasses, he fled, looking back over his shoulder in terror that the next glance would reveal It right on his tail. Twigs caught in his clothes, his hair, tore at his face and his arms flailed to clear a path, desperation threatening to overwhelm him.
Convinced It would only have to reach out and It would have him, he forced himself to somehow find the strength to put on one last burst of speed but, before he could go much further, a treacherous tree root caught his trainer-clad foot and sent him crashing to the ground with a yelp of pain. Trying to scramble to his feet was easier said than done when the ground was still slick with mud in places – a result of the latest downpour – and Charlie ended up twisting onto his back as a shadow loomed over him, a horror-fuelled scream tearing from his throat …
That scream was still ringing in his ears when he jerked upright, almost falling off the edge of his bed in his panic. His head snapped from side to side, haunted eyes taking in his surroundings first with fear, then suspicion, then sheer relief as his heart still pounded and his breathing came in ragged gasps.
The jungle – gone. The … thing – gone, thank God. The sweat pouring down his face – oh, that was real all right and no wonder. A nightmare … Just a nightmare, but the most vivid he'd ever had. Bar none. Unless you counted the fact that he'd had the same dream three times – and that was just this week …
"Bloody hell." he managed, collapsing back against the pillows with a groan and wondering – not for the first time, but with perhaps the most serious consideration in a long time – if it was all worth it. If all the trappings of the rock-and-roll lifestyle were really worth it. Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll – sounded good until you had to seriously question whether or not it was driving you out of your mind.
Something certainly was …
to be continued...
