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"Make him feel welcome."

That was her father's first instruction.

"Don't talk about his people. Steer the conversation around to our way of life. He's got to understand he's with us now."

Alex found this request equally problematic.

What was our way of life? She thought she had known, love and community and faith, but not anymore. According to her father, they were at war and their territory, ideology and very sovereignty were at stake. Ben had explained this to all of them three days after the plane crash. But why? She had asked him later when they were alone. What do they want from us? Shouldn't we be helping them?

In response, he had kissed her on the forehead and simply said, "From every point of view the erroneousness of the world in which we believe we live is the surest and firmest thing we can get our eyes on."

The next day he had handed her the source of his quote, a well worn copy of the book she had often seen on his night table, Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future.

She couldn't very well quote Nietzsche to Walt.

And good luck convincing Karl not to ask questions about Charlie. He was on his rock star kick again. He would sneak his walkman into the lab and wear his headphones while he worked. He left her notes in the birdhouse addressed to Yoko or June or Cher. When they lay together in the meadow, he would daydream out loud about their act. This was sweet but foolish and not only because neither of them could carry a tune.

"And wear your blue dress. It's been a while since we've had an occasion to dress up."

She could do that. It was just another costume.

Alex helped him prepare for the dinner. Side by side they kneaded dough for the bread. He made the pastry while she sliced fruit for the pies, one apple and one peach. They took turns stirring the winter squash and risotto. As the kitchen filled with warm soothing smells, everything else seemed far way. When she chopped the onions for the potato and mushroom gratin, her eyes watered so much that that her dad had dropped to one knee, dramatically offered his handkerchief and called her "my lady". For a moment things were fine between them.

He sent Alex to borrow a platter from Juliet and to remind her about the dinner but she wasn't there or wasn't answering the door. The curtains were drawn, however Alex thought she could hear music playing. When she returned home, her dad had two tables set for dinner, the big one in the dining room for the adults, and a smaller one in the living room where she and Karl would sit with Emma, Zack and Walt.

Mikhail turned up first, almost an hour early, while she was still dressing. Alex remained in her room until Karl arrived with Danny and Colleen, followed by Richard. Zack and Emma came with Bea. Both kids wore hand me downs she recognized as her own. They immediately settled in the corner to play with some of her old puzzles.

Walt arrived last, accompanied by Tom.

With one hand glued to the boy's back, Tom guided Walt into the house and introduced him to everyone. Walt didn't say anything or take the offered hands. He just stared through people, like he had when she first caught sight of him a few days ago. After he had been paraded by everyone, he sat perched on the edge of her couch, one hand jostling the tassels on a pillow. Once the adults stopped staring at him and began to talk amongst themselves, he sat back, exhaled a long held in breath and let his eyes wander around the room.

"He doesn't look special," Karl whispered to her.

She knew she should go over and talk to him, say something that let Walt know he was safe here. Instead she remained frozen, almost hidden by the tall Ficus plant.

They waited for Juliet but she didn't come. The adults exchanged knowing looks and Goodwin's name was murmured quietly. Colleen was sent to check on her. When she returned alone, shaking her head, they all took their seats.

Only her father remained standing. He stood in the archway that divided the dining room and living room so he could address both tables. With a glass raised, he started his speech. "I want to thank you all for coming tonight. I think it's more important than ever to make time for fellowship, to nourish the spirit as well as the body."

"Here, here," Tom said, taking an impromptu drink of his cider.

"This last month has been difficult for all of us. We have lost good friends, brave men who will be remembered. But we have also enlarged our family, dear Emma and Zack, and now Walt." He turned to Walt, who sat hunched, hands in his pockets and eyes on his empty plate. "Your presence is a gift, a sign that we're meant to persevere." Her father looked like was going to say more but at that moment Walt raised his head and they locked eyes. Ben's face drained of colour and his left cheek twitched. He looked away and held his glass higher. "To Walt."

"To Walt." Everyone echoed the toast, except for Alex. She was too busy studying Walt, whose lips had curled into a small smile when Ben had been the first to look away.

Karl circulated the dishes, while Alex spooned the food onto Emma's and Zack's plates. They turned their noses up at the vegetarian fare but were delighted with the fresh bread. Walt dug into his dinner, acted like he hadn't eaten in weeks which Alex supposed was fairly accurate.

She pushed the food around her plate, drawing borders with her fork so none of the servings touched. What had smelled so good in the kitchen while they were cooking now seemed flat and bitter. Even the thought of eating the peach pie later, one of her favourite desserts, made her stomach churn.

Before she had taken a bite, Walt had cleared his plate and look expectantly at Alex.

"Would you like some more?" she asked, pleased to finally having something to say. He nodded and she filled his plate again. While she thought about what she could say next, Walt surprised her by filling the silence.

He pointed with his fork to Ben. "Is that your dad?"

"Yes."

"How long have you lived here?"

"I was born here."

"Where's your mom?"

"She died when I was a baby."

"What about you?" Walt asked Karl.

"I came here like you."

"They took you too?"

"They helped me after my dad got sick. Our balloon crashed."

"My dad isn't dead," Walt said. "He's going to come and get me."

"I know," Alex said softly, thinking maybe the best way to make Walt feel safe was to help him believe this.

"Is your dad in charge?"

"Sort of."

"Is Charlie in charge at your camp?" Karl blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Charlie?" A burst of laughter escaped Walt. His whole body trembled with the effort to contain more but he couldn't and it was infectious. Zack and Emma started giggling and even Alex smiled. Karl looked appalled, not understanding what was so funny. The chatter at the adult's table stopped and everyone turned to looked at them.

When Walt got himself under control, he cleared his throat and started to eat again. The adults returned to their own conversations. Alex thought this was all Walt was going to say but he startled her with his next comment.

"Mr. Locke is our leader. He could slit your throat before you even knew he was in the room."

Emma's lingering giggle turned into a hiccup. She clamped her hand over her mouth and looked up at Alex, eyes wide with fear. Zack remained oblivious, just stuffed his mouth with more bread.

"Walt's just joking around." She stroked the little girl's hair and filled her glass with more milk. "He's just kidding."

Walt slathered butter on a piece of bread, tilted his knife so he could see his reflection in it. "He taught me how to use one just like him."

Alex twisted the napkin in her lap. In desperation she looked to her father for guidance but he was deep in discussion with Mikhail and Bea. Richard caught her eye and smiled, gave a playful tug on his ear. Alex returned the smile and discreetly touched her finger to her nose. It was a little game they had played since she was five or six. When she grew bored or sleepy during meetings, Richard would distract her from across the room with silly gestures, both of them fighting to keep a straight face.

Suddenly she knew what to say. "Walt, after dinner we can go to the barn. Karl and I can show you the kittens."

"I don't like cats."

"Well, there are cows and goats too."

"Do you have a computer?"

"I have a typewriter."

Karl asked, "What do you want a computer for?"

"Tom had disks at his house but I didn't see a computer."

"There are computers in the labs, for work. We don't have any with games."

"We have board games," Zack chimed in. "Chinese Checkers and Zoo Quest and Mille Bourne."

"Mille Bourne's a card game, dummy," said Emma. "Ms. Klugh plays lots of games with us. She says it's her job."

"I need to get out of here." Walt spoke directly to Alex. "Will you help me?"

"What?"

"You helped Claire."

"You helped Claire?" Karl asked in a hush. His hand reached for hers under table but she pulled it away before he could take it.

"I did not help Claire," she said through gritted teeth. She took a bite of potato, it was cold and dry but she kept chewing. Walt's eyes bored into her; it was almost like he could see inside her head.

When he didn't get the response he was hoping for, Walt turned to Karl. "Did you know your friend Ethan tried to kill Charlie?" He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking far older than he was. "Hung him from a tree?"

"That's not true. Danny said Charlie was on the list," Karl insisted, looking to Alex for confirmation but she just shrugged.

She had no idea what was true these days. Things couldn't be so easily divided into good and evil, not like how her father had divided up the Oceanic passengers' names into two columns, one list so much shorter than the other. It couldn't be, it shouldn't be that simple. Or if it could, that didn't mean her father was the right person to make the distinction.

Alex had heard rumours about Ethan disobeying her dad. At first this made her happy because everyone thought he was the one who had let Claire go. Then it made her worried that what happened next to Ethan was her fault.

Everyone had been shaken by his murder and the ambiguity over what happened made the gossip worse. Some said Charlie had killed him. Others said it had been Claire. She even overheard a few people speculate it had been done on Ben's orders because Ethan betrayed them. Her father had said nothing.

If he knew what she had done at The Staff, what she was considering doing for Walt, that meant she would be on the bad list. But the book he gave her said that moral concepts like good and evil had no inherent meaning, those were fixed labels in a universe that was constantly spinning. Is that what her father wanted her to understand? If so, why did his actions seem so contradictory? Or were things spinning too fast for her to see clearly?

"So we do school work in the morning and then help with the projects during the afternoon," Alex said quickly, noticing her father approach their table. She tossed her napkin over her plate so he wouldn't notice she hadn't eaten.

"I hope you left room for pie and ice cream," Ben stated, letting his hand drop to Walt's shoulder. Walt suddenly looked small and vulnerable; his brave front disappeared in her father's shadow. "Alex, can you help me in the kitchen?"

She pushed back her chair and cleared the plates, followed her dad into the kitchen. Her hands shook as she scraped the remains into the compost basket and stacked the plates by the sink.

"So…," Ben asked, removing the pies from the oven.

"So…," she replied with a clenched jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

"How is Walt adjusting?"

"He ate a lot."

"And what did he tell you about his people?"

"We didn't talk about that." She wrapped her arms around herself. "You said not to."

"Alex." He regarded her carefully. She felt like he was trying to get inside her head, just like Walt. Had he expected her to do the opposite of what he had asked?

"Just what we already knew, that the doctor is their leader." The lie slipped out without her thinking.

"Anything else?"

"No."

"You did well tonight." He touched her cheek, leaving the smell of peaches behind. "I know this is not easy. You have such a tender heart, like your mother."

Her heart swelled at the comparison and warmth seemed to sink back into her body. Like her mother, she smiled to herself as she got the bowls from the cupboard.

"I might need to go away for a while." He stared out the window above the sink, one hand rubbing the small of his back.

"Where?"

"To them."

"It's not safe."

"They know we have Walt." He turned back to face her. "They won't hurt me."

"I don't want you to go." She did and she didn't. If he went himself he would know for sure who these people were, if they could be trusted. And then she would too. If he came home safe, they were good. If he didn't…well, she didn't want to think about that.

"Don't worry, Richard will stay with you."

"I should go with you."

"There are things for you to do here. Help watch over Walt, work on your studies. Did you finish the book I gave you?"

"Almost."

"Has it been helpful in understanding your questions?"

"A little."

"What is done out of love always happens beyond good and evil."

She bite her lip. Was that an excuse or a reason? Was he doing all this for her?

"The greater a thought is the longer it takes for posterity to recognize it," he added.

Alex didn't know if he was referring to Nietzsche or himself, probably the later. Then his leader façade dropped and he was just her dad again. He balanced a pie on each hand. "Come on, a good hostess never keeps her guests waiting."

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