Chapter 1: Safe House (Part 1)
On a warm June evening, Hugo sped up Tuna Canyon Road in high gear. Man oh man, nothing beat a Hummer for eating up the miles. Eight under the hood, six on the floor, pedal to the metal, baby.
Hard to believe that six months had passed since he had taken over as protector of the Island. Mostly it was pretty cool, even if he didn't get to sleep in as much as he liked. It was good to be back in LA, though, cruising on a twisty two-lane road at sixty miles an hour, evening sunlight brushing the western edges of mountains so vast they seemed to go on forever.
Hugo flipped open his phone and tapped the key for Claire's number, first on the list.
"This is Claire. If you hear this message, we're out catching falling stars. Bye for now." A few bars of "Catch a Falling Star" followed, then the beep. Hugo hung up without leaving a message.
He tried the fourth, which was the house number, and heard Kate's clipped, serious voice. "Under California state law, this is your notification that this call is being recorded, as well as your originating call number or your Internet service provider. To leave a text, press one. For media inquiries, press two. For our attorneys, press three. For all other matters, please take a long swim off a short pier. Have a nice day."
Hugo sighed. The intimidating message served to scare away the few journalists, paparazzi, and publicity hounds who still pursued "Ajira Aaron and his Two Mommies," as some tabloid had called them. The label stuck.
He tried to recall the speed-dial code for Kate's personal cell number. Third time was the charm, right? Just as he was sneaking a downward peek at his phone, a truck careened down the opposite lane towards the Pacific Coast Highway. When the truck swept a little too close for comfort, Hugo jerked out of the way, and fixed his eyes on the road. He might be the luckiest guy in the world, but best not to push it.
Might as well try number eight, see if that worked. It did. Kate answered after four rings, her voice polite but distant. "Hello, Hurley."
"Hey, Kate. Just wanted to let you know I'm on my way."
"Thanks. See you." She hung up.
Hugo almost missed the turn for Antelope Ridge Drive, which wasn't much of one. More like gravel doing a tap-dance on a hard-pan path which skirted around the ravine. Approaching night turned the thick cedars purple, and across the canyon a coyote yipped, answered by another one.
The drive ended in an open security gate topped with a "No Trespassing" sign. He proceeded at a crawl up the long driveway, until he came to a boxy ranch house nestled in the evening shadows. Light from the newly-risen moon glinted on its flat roof.
Why was the house so dark? Hugo pulled over, debating whether to get out or call Kate again, when the patio light came on. A slender figure stepped out onto the porch, her halo of short, fluffy hair lit from behind.
Hugo stepped into the pool of brightness and waved. "Claire, hey there."
"Hi, Hurley."
He didn't even have to ask for the hug. In a breathless moment she drew him towards her, coming to rest soft and pliant in his arms. When a footstep on the patio made her turn around, she let him go with a look that was almost guilty.
Two silhouettes appeared in the doorway: a taller woman, holding a small child by the hand. Kate, and Aaron.
"Come on in, Hurley," Kate said.
The first thing Hugo noticed about the living room was that there were plants everywhere. Tropical plants, all in pots that ranged from big to ginormous. Some of the trees reached to the large, unshuttered skylight. There was a long overstuffed couch, as well as cushions on the floor, jumbled in front of a wide, flat-screened television.
Kate gave him the once-over, as if silently measuring. "You're looking good, Hurley. Been working out?"
"Nope, just going about my business." Just walking up and down mountains, chopping wood, mucking out cisterns. Digging for broken electrical cables if the power went out. Building canoes and outriggers, jacking up cars by hand. No gym needed, living the way he did. He was still fat as ever, probably always would be. But now there was steel underneath.
"How about a beer?"
Hugo shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."
"I'll have one," Claire piped up.
"No, honey, you can't. Meds, remember?"
Claire pouted like a stubborn child. "I hate meds."
Hugo studied Claire carefully, her face shadowed in the living room's low light. A lot had changed since she had returned from the Island, and he wondered if she knew how far she'd come. "Hey, take it from me. If you need them, you need them."
Her long, careful look seemed to bookmark his words for a later conversation. She then turned to Kate. "Where's Mum?"
"Tonight's her coma meeting, remember?"
"How can I remember anything? These pills stuff my head with cotton. And they're making me fat."
Hugo knew how meds could strap leaden weights to your thoughts and limbs alike. How you could sleep twelve, fourteen hours out of twenty-four. And above all, pack on the pounds.
But Claire, fat? He snuck a casual glance, trying not to be obvious. Yeah, she might have had a bit of a point, although this softer, fuller Claire was a big improvement over the starving scarecrow she had been. "No way you're fat."
"Hah." Claire plopped down on a cushion. "You're just saying that."
Aaron pulled on the collar of his Dora the Explorer pajamas and stared straight up at Hugo.
"Do you remember Mr. Reyes?" Kate said.
"Hey, you can call me Hurley. Mr. Reyes is my dad."
As Kate shot Hugo a disapproving look, Aaron piped up, "Horsie ride!"
Of course Aaron would remember that. Kids on the Island loved to sit on Hugo's shoulders as he raced around. However, they also liked to cling to his long mane for dear life, which usually meant he gave up some hair. Aaron had been no exception.
Immediately after a broken and battered Ajira 316 had rolled into Herarat Airlines' hanger, Richard had bundled Kate and Claire off to their first safe house, an apartment in Manhattan Beach. Hugo had visited shortly after, and had carried Aaron to and fro while Kate tried to coax Claire into sitting on the sofa instead of cowering behind it. He was coming for her, she insisted. Finally Kate got her to sit with a cup of tea in hand. It had felt like a huge victory at the time.
"Can I have horsie ride now?"
Kate swooped over. "Sorry, Goober, it's bedtime. Maybe tomorrow, if it's all right with Hurley. Claire, your turn to tuck Aaron in tonight."
Claire fought a wide yawn. "But I just sat down."
Kate was about to insist, when Aaron said to Hugo, "I live here now."
"He's had to move three times in six months," Kate explained, with a touch of accusation.
"Three times?" Hugo said, trying to count internally. Oh, right. From Kate's house to Carole's motel, where Richard found them and brought them to the Manhattan Beach apartment. But they couldn't stay there long, not with all the publicity about "Ajira Aaron." That's how they wound up at the end of the road above Tuna Canyon.
Aaron was still focused on Hugo. "Where do you live?"
"Hurley lives far, far away," Claire said. "On an island."
Aaron's eyes grew wide. "On Monster Island? With Godzilla?"
"Nope, no Godzilla," Hugo said in a serious voice. "I checked pretty carefully."
"Oh." Disappointed, Aaron pulled on Claire's arm. "Mummy Claire, read Godzilla to me."
"I thought you wanted Mothra."
"Godzilla!" Aaron insisted.
"We read Mothra last night," Kate explained.
Aaron swooped around the living room, flapping his arms like gigantic moth-wings. As Hugo helped Claire to her feet, her hair briefly brushed his chin, and she smelled of lavender. She tottered behind Aaron, swaying slightly.
After the bedroom door clicked shut, Kate said, "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have that beer." She rummaged through a refrigerator big enough for two families. "How about pineapple juice?"
"Anything, Kate."
As she got the drinks, Hugo tried to not seem too interested in the sounds coming from Aaron's room: Claire's low, rhythmic voice with a slur he recognized from the hospital, broken by Aaron's excited yips.
His pineapple juice was poured over ice, and Kate had added a little green paper umbrella. He twirled it, suddenly shy about getting started. "So. How are you settling in?"
"Things are quiet up here. We must be moving out of the news cycle, I guess. It's still hard for Claire, though. The good thing is that Aaron's her rock. He keeps her tied to the earth, rather than floating right off it. But—"
"But?"
"But whatever these doctors think they're doing, she's in a stall. Not getting worse, but not getting better, either." She got up and headed for the cabinet. "I could put a splash of Captain Morgan in that pineapple juice if you wanted."
"Really, Kate, no booze for me, thanks."
She seated herself back down and took a long pull from her Heineken's. "We talked about pre-school, but Claire doesn't want to let him out of her sight. So we hold a little one of our own in the mornings. I do the reading and Claire paints with him. He's good, Hurley, really good for a kid his age. Neither of us quite have a handle on how to teach him numbers."
"That's gotta be, what? Adding and subtracting?"
"At his age, more like counting," she said with a fragile laugh. "We get frustrated, especially Claire. It doesn't take much to set her off on a long tirade about how worthless she is, what a terrible mother, all that. At least she doesn't say it in front of Aaron. But it builds up inside her."
"Like a volcano," Hugo said. He knew the feeling.
"Then at night when she can't sleep, when I'm dead on my feet, it all comes out." She started pacing again.
"Maybe you don't have to do it all alone, Kate." When she didn't pick up on his opening, he lost his nerve. He had been waiting to talk to them both, but Claire hadn't reappeared, so he tried another tack. "Aaron takes a long time to get to sleep, I guess."
"Come with me." Kate put her finger over her lips, signaling him to be quiet. In Aaron's room, half-dark in the night-light, mother and child were both asleep. Aaron curled up in his bed, while Claire sprawled half-in and out, her feet splayed in front of her. "She's almost impossible to wake up once she conks out like this," Kate whispered. "It's hard to get her to bed."
"Here, let me. Just lead the way." Hugo picked Claire up like a small doll. Her head lolled against his chest with a sweet weight, and once more he breathed in the fragrant scent of her hair. His heart started to pound, and to distract himself he looked around Claire's chaotic, up-ended room.
On the bed, clothes and blankets were lumped into a kind of nest with a hollowed-out center. Piles of books and papers spread out over the floor. Used tubes of paints and broken pastels crowded the desk and a work table, and art covered the walls.
The images of Kate and Aaron looked ordinary, happy almost. There were still life piles of fruit, or cut flowers. Then there were Claire's self-portraits, with their haunted, hollow eyes. In some pictures, a small solitary figure wandered under looming trees. The room jarred with the rest of the neat, mostly-bare house.
Hugo gently lowered Claire onto her bed. At first she half-clung to him, like she didn't want to let go, then rolled onto her side, still deeply asleep. He covered her with a thin cotton blanket.
Kate was waiting in the hallway. Hugo said, "You've done a great job, Kate."
Her eyes got bright and moist all at once. "I wish you didn't have to see that."
"I've seen worse. I've been worse."
"I know. I was there, remember?"
It was true. She had been, at his lowest point: she and Jack both. "Kate, there's something I wanted to talk to you about—"
She interrupted, as if he hadn't spoken at all. "Hey, let me make you a sandwich. Roast beef or turkey?"
"Turkey would be awesome. Don't get that at home."
"At home? Oh, you mean the Island." Kate stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. The gulf between them yawned for an instant, wide as the ocean which separated him from this ordinary LA life. Finally she said, "How long are you in town for?"
The routine question made everything feel normal again. Mostly. "Till tomorrow evening."
"Can you stay the night? We're using all the bedrooms, but I can bunk with Claire and let you have the big bed."
"The sofa's fine, Kate." His heart gave a little flip-flop of anticipation. It was more than he'd hoped for.
As Kate sliced turkey breast, she weighed her words carefully. "Claire's way better in the mornings, when she gets a pot of coffee in her." She set before him an excellent sandwich: crunchy sourdough bread, turkey with crisp skin still on it, garlic mayo and a few pickles.
Kate picked at her own little pile of roast beef, and her silence made Hugo nervous. He gestured towards the strange jungle-like living room, such a contrast with the open kitchen of metal and glass. "Why all the plants?"
"We rented them from a prop shop that supplies them for movie sets. They calm her down."
"Right." That was LA for you, Hugo thought. Something for everyone, if you had the cash. Well, no time like the present. "You know how my mom, Jack's mom, and me all started the Shephard Foundation a couple months ago?"
Pain passed across Kate's face. "Margo told me."
"Well, I bought, I mean, the foundation bought some property up in the mountains by Malibu Springs. An old retreat center. I think you guys might like it up there." His words tumbled out, trying to outpace any objections. "It's safe, Kate. I mean, really safe. The big house is nice. And there are cabins. For... visitors."
"Seems like we'd be exchanging one mountain top for another." The way she stated it, she wasn't impressed.
"It's kinda between Calabasas and Thousand Oaks, so you could find a school for Aaron. It's not like it's that remote."
"Sounds like a big place for just us."
This was the tricky part, and he hoped he didn't blow it. "A few Others keep the place running. And I kinda poached some staff from Santa Rosa who can—"
"Others?" Her sharp eyes focused like a drill. "Oh, no. Not them. No way."
"It just means people who live on the Island, Kate. Or who used to, but live here now. In our world, I mean. Or who go back and forth." Like him, he thought, who found themselves in between both places, yet not completely at home in either. "When you think of it, I'm an Other now."
That got her thinking a bit. She got up to pace, as if cornered. "I don't want to put Aaron through another move."
He gestured widely at the room, at the ranch house itself. "This is a safe house, Kate. It's not a place to live for good. It's made so that people can move around quickly." He struggled to find the right analogy. "Like a hotel. But you need... Claire and Aaron need a place to settle in. Maybe even put down some roots, now that things are starting to quiet down."
He could tell she was straining to believe him, but something held her back. "Did you talk to Sawyer?"
"He says he's gonna try his luck in the great Northwest for awhile."
Kate's laugh came out dry and sarcastic. "We'll see how long that lasts."
Hugo didn't contradict her, keeping to himself why Sawyer wanted to stay in Portland. Never lower a bucket into a dry well, hoss, Sawyer had remarked when they last spoke. All Hugo said was, "Also, there's a stable. Needs a few horses in it, though."
Her eyes shone, but she didn't say anything.
"We'd need someone to run it." The words had barely left his mouth before he knew that he'd overplayed his hand.
Her shoulders suddenly grew stiff, and she let her fork fall to the table with a clatter. "You're offering me a job? So I guess this is how Jacob did it. Find out what they want, dangle the bait, then reel them in. That's how he conned Jack." She leaned over to Hugo, green fire in her eyes. "And now you're like Jacob. What mess do you need me to mop up? I bet it's not just mucking out a stable." Her laugh came out bitter and without humor. "You know, when you called, at first I thought you were going to ask me to go back."
"No way, Kate. Only if you want to. And you have to really want to."
"Don't try your reverse psychology on me."
Hugo knew she had to get it out. He only wished that the lash of her words didn't have to hurt so much. "This is about Claire. About her getting better. And you, too."
"Me, too? There's nothing wrong with me."
One thing about being a mental patient, you learned the lingo. "I'm no shrink, but I'm sensing some caregiver burnout here."
"Hurley..." She couldn't look at him. Her voice trailed to nothing as she leaned on the gleaming metal island for support, her anger bleeding off. "It's just that I miss him so badly. Tell me, Hurley, when am I going to stop missing him?"
Hugo came around the table, arms open. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then she fell against him. He patted her back in a slow rhythm. "I miss him too. Every day."
As he kept patting, her trembling stopped. When her body was relaxed and quiet, he lifted her chin. "You're so awesome, Kate. You're the sister I never had. You're like my mom. I mean, if you were my sister, you'd be like her. Because she'd be your mom too." He shook his head, embarrassed. Protecting the Island had changed him, for sure. But it hadn't fixed his clumsy, tripping tongue. "Man, that came out all wrong."
"No, it didn't," Kate said, smiling for the first time that evening. "It's a big compliment. And you're right, I'm not coping." She sat back down, all the fight gone out of her. "I'm glad you're staying the night."
"Me, too. Hey, got to text my parents before it gets too late." All thumbs, he fumbled with the phone, having never quite gotten the hang of it. "Stayng w/ Kt and Clr 2nite, c u at tmrw lnch." He flipped it shut, trying to squelch the smile that threatened to take over his whole face.
(continued)
(A/N: Found and fixed a little timeline glitch.)
