Author's Note: Alright, so here's my third attempt at writing this fanfic. First time, I got along, but I decided chapters were too short; second time the chapter size was fine, I just didn't like how I had changed the story. This story is very much dedicated to Mandy who was with me when I first wrote it, and unless you're brain dead, you know that I named a character after her. Currently I've got chapter 1 and chapter 2 done so I'll be posting them. Please read and review, because I thrive on comments and I would love to know what you think, even if it's just you saying that "it's good" or "it's bad". I also really appreciate grammar corrections, especially with my persons (I had to redo bits of this because I slipped into third person). Thanks! - Brandon.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost, however the characters of Christopher Darwin, Arlene, and Mandy belong to me, as well as minor flashback characters. Lost is owned by ABC.
I knew it would be a bad day, with everything going as planned—it never does-- up until the point we crashed onto the island. I got an extra pancake at breakfast, walked into an Aussie girl who gave me her number, and I actually enjoyed my lunch at the airport—why did nobody tell me that you could buy something other than crap at them? Of course, it didn't matter anymore, we were all dead (and if we weren't dead yet, we would all be dead soon). I was actually asleep for most of the crash, but I knew something was wrong when I felt my head against sand and people were screaming.
"Finally!" a voice called as I raised my head, rubbing it slightly with one hand while the other kept me balanced. It hurt. "Come on, get up." As I put my hand back down onto the ground, almost instantly I felt another on top of mine. I knew it was a girl's, as it was soft. She helped me to my feet and let go of my hand. "You're lucky you didn't land any further to the water, you could have been washed out to sea."
In retrospect, being washed out to sea wouldn't have been too bad of a way to go, but at the time, I was more than thrilled. "Thanks," I said, in my usual calm demeanor. I heard her laugh and say 'no problem'. She sounded American, or from somewhere with an accent I couldn't identify, so my first guess was probably the best one. "I'm Chris."
"Arlene," she replied and I nodded slowly. Arlene? Yeah, she was American, and probably an old one at that. She chuckled after I nodded, probably catching my feelings about her name. "Yeah, it's an old name, but I don't look that old, do I?" I just shrugged and told her I was no good at judging ages.
"I… I can barely see with these sunglasses on," I told her, as my reason.
"Then take them off," she suggested, and I once again felt her hand on my skin as she tried to take them off. "It's not that bright out."
Before she could remove them, I pushed them back on and shook my head. "Nah, just not used to the light yet. They're… uh… prescription, and I think my regular ones were lost in the crash."
"Oh, all right," she said and removed her hand. There were more screams from around us. How we had an entire conversation with all the chaos going on was beyond me. "We should go help…" she said slowly, and for the third time in the span of five minutes that we'd known each other, I felt her touch me, this time wrapping her hand around mine. "Come on."
"Oh, you look adorable!" my mother had always treated me like a baby. Her hands came down onto my shoulders and I tried to struggle out of her grasp to little avail. "Just like when you were little!" The problem with that statement was that: 1) my girlfriend was standing next to her, probably laughing at me and my embarrassment, and 2) I was 25.
"Seriously, mom, I'm more than capable of doing this," I said angrily and the weight of her body leaning over my suddenly left as she removed her hands, probably annoyed at me.
"Fine," she said in a stand-offish sort of way; that was how she reacted whenever I tried to gain independence growing up, she had a bit of trouble letting her chicks leave the nest, but she did have good reason. "I was just making sure you were okay."
"He's fine, Ms. Darwin," my girlfriend mused, "really." She sounded amused, so I figured the spectacle of my mother babying me was only funny to her, not emotionally scaring. It was an improvement from the last one.
My mother let out an annoyed sound, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth and I heard her footsteps pull away from me. "Well then, if you two are fine by yourselves," she paused and the echo of the clicking of her heels sank in, "I'll be downstairs. Let me know when you're going, though." The footsteps began again and within a few moments, we were alone.
"I haven't seen any baby pictures of you yet," she said to me between chuckles. Angrily, I turned my head over to her and glared.
"Neither have I," was all I said and the topic was dropped.
"So, what do you want to do today, then?" she asked me as I tried to calm myself down.
"I don't know. Do you just want to go for some lunch?" I responded, still slightly annoyed at her.
"Sure."
The most interesting thing about the first day was how quickly people took to random strangers. All over the beach people were introducing themselves and friendships were being forged. After our superhero attempts to help people, Arlene had just ran off, and I hadn't seen her since. I wasn't complaining, I didn't want to be bothered by people. We were stuck on an island and these people… they were already facing the inevitable.
"Hey," I heard from behind me. It was a quiet voice, a girl's. Slowly, I turned my head around.
"Hi?" I questioned. I figured I was far enough away from people to not be involved in conversations, but still close enough to not be considered a social outcast.
"Just wanted to say hi. And thanks."
The voice wasn't one I recognized, but she sounded young, and probably also American. For some reason, there were no Australians on this flight except one that I heard—a whiny pregnant woman. When she said she wanted to thank me, I began to feel concerned. I didn't remember this person, and if they were just fooling around, I would look like an idiot if I played along, and if I told them I didn't now who they were, I would look like an idiot. We had only been on the island for a few hours and I was already forgetting names. "Oh," was all I could say to her.
"If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't have gotten out from under those seats."
I managed a quiet laugh and said, "no problem." Still didn't remember the girl.
"I'm Mandy."
"Chris."
A few moments passed before she said anything, although I wasn't sure if it was me who was to continue the conversation, I didn't exactly understand women.
"How are you?" she asked me and I tried to stifle laughter.
"Oh, I don't know, I'm enjoying being stranded on a deserted island." I was, very much, a sarcastic person, especially around strangers. An event like this, a plane crash with forty-something complete strangers was on my list of things I hoped would never happen. I wouldn't fit in—even if I bothered trying.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
That was the first thing she asked after we were seated at the restaurant. Due to a sale, lunch had turned into dinner, because the 'me likey shoes' side of my girlfriend had come out, and once that happened the only thing stopping her would be chocolate cake, but I had none on me. Uncomfortably, I adjusted myself in my seat. "About what?" I asked her.
"You know," was all she said, and I did know, but I didn't know why she was asking, so I merely shrugged. "You've been depressed ever since… you hurt you mother's feelings earlier, she was just playing around."
My head was facing the floor and nervously, my hands squirmed around in my lap. "I'm not depressed," I told her as firmly as I could.
"You know that's not true," she responded briskly. My heart sank with that, wondering if I really was becoming a different person. "I was just thinking… maybe you should see a shrink about this."
"Are you referring me to somebody?!" I asked her, raising my head. I probably said it a bit too loudly considering the public place we were in, but I didn't care about people staring at me.
"I… I already have."
"What?!" I said, completely flabbergasted. I didn't speak for about a minute, because that was the length of time it took me to pick my mouth up from off the floor. "Who are you to refer me for psychological help?"
"I'm your girlfriend, Chris, that's who I am." She sounded upset. I began to feel bad that I had said such a stupid thing to her, because she meant well, she always did.
Again, I had trouble finding words to respond to her, and our table fell absolutely quiet. I wasn't focusing on anything except my thoughts and trying to collect them. Absent-mindedly, I reached into my pockets and pulled something out of them. Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Eventually, I squeezed out the words 'I'm sorry' from the knot in my throat and put the item from my pocket on the table. "Will you… marry me?"
It had been something I wanted to ask for a while now, we had never discussed it, but I loved her more than anything. I wanted to prove to her that I loved her. Calmly, I waited for a response, or at the very least a reaction. When nothing came, I heard a laughter coming from the table beside me.
"Dude, she's been gone for like 10 minutes. You blind, or something?"
Unfortunately, I was.
