Title: Mango and Rock Gods.

Reviews: Appreciated and replied to.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

This is set post Fire+Water.

Hurley was bored. Tired, bored and hungry to be precise. Everyone was busy, Jack in the hatch, Libby and Claire were busy bathing Aaron and Locke, well who knew where Locke was or what he was up to. Hunting boar? Searching for the mysterious others? Or maybe he was just bored stiff like Hurley.

So Hurley had decided to have a walk through the jungle, careful not to go near where the dreaded 'monster' had been spotted, he wasn't exactly in the mood to be chased by some black smoke.

He shuddered at the thought, what the hell was that thing anyway? Was it really a monster?

Hurley sighed and stopped to chew on some mango he had recently picked. It was good mango and he was so thirsty.

What would Jack say? Wandering around the jungle with no water. Hurley thought, imagining the lecture he would get about dehydration if Jack spotted him on his travels.

He grinned to himself, relishing the sweet taste of mango in his mouth. There were some good things about being stuck on a deserted island.

Mango and hot blonde shrinks, Hurley thought to himself, thinking of Libby and her beautiful shining blonde hair.

Suddenly he heard a noise coming from… Somewhere, a mumbling, whispers. Hurley took the mango from his lips, his eyes widening slightly, fear setting in...

The others?

He knew crazy Rousseau had mentioned that you could hear the other's whispers when they were near.

Key point, the chick's crazy. Hurley reminded himself.

Hurley breathed in, then out, trying to calm himself until he heard it again, clearer now.

"Look… Really sorry, I can't…"

"What the?" Hurley questioned, glancing around, trying to locate where the voice had come from. The voice sounded familiar.

"Make it up to you, I can, know I can…"

Suddenly Hurley spotted something, something moving through the jungle quickly, almost erratically.

He followed, hoping to god that it wasn't an 'other' or he was royally screwed.

Then he saw, messy blonde hair, hoodie, checked shoes…Charlie Pace, bassist of defunct band Driveshaft and self-confessed 'rock god.'

"Hey Charlie!" Hurley shouted, dropping his mango in the process. "Ack," he squeaked as the mango became a sticky mess on his shoe.

No reply. Talk about rude.

Charlie continued to go deeper into the jungle, seemingly immersed in whatever the hell he was up to.

Hurley tried again. "Dude!"

No reply.

He heaved a sigh, staring down at his shoe, missing his mango already.

So Hurley jogged, attempting to catch up with his friend who seemed to be moving quicker then before.

As Hurley got closer he realized Charlie seemed to be scribbling on a notebook while muttering to himself. He also didn't seem to notice that Hurley was right behind him.

"Dude," he repeated, putting a hand on Charlie's shoulder, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

Charlie jerked, turning round quickly, clearly surprised and scared. "Get off…" he started, frightened, before he realized who it was. "Oh Hurley, hey," he answered, running a sweaty shaky hand over his face.

"Man, you look a mess," Hurley pointed out, looking his friend up and down.

Charlie did look a mess, his eyes were red-rimmed, he was pale and still bruised from where Locke had punched him. "Gee, thanks for stating the obvious Hurley," Charlie replied sarcastically, annoyed.

Hurley held his hands up apologetically. "Sorry dude," he replied as Charlie started walking away. "Hey wait up, where ya goin?"

Charlie stopped again and turned round, in Hurley's face. "Look Hurley, I'm not in the mood. Just leave me alone okay?" he said before walking again.

"We're worried about you," Hurley yelled at Charlie's retreating form.

Charlie stopped dead. They were worried about him? That didn't sound right, not after what had gone down at the beach. Everyone hated him, especially Claire.

He turned round again, irritated. "What?"

Hurley glanced at him nervously. "Well none of us have seen you round camp lately. You haven't even talked to anyone since…"

Charlie quickly interrupted, angry. "Since Locke punched me and you all decided I was some crazy dope-fiend?"

Hurley became even more uncomfortable, finding it hard to look Charlie in the eyes. "Well, uh, yeah…"

Charlie seemed to be getting even more agitated. "I didn't… I wasn't gonna hurt him, I would never hurt him, I…" Charlie mumbled, picking at his black nail varnish. "I was trying to save him Hurley."

"Huh?" Hurley asked, confused but also concerned.

"Aaron, he needed saving," Charlie tried to explain.

Hurley walked closer to Charlie. "Saving from who?"

Charlie groaned. "It doesn't matter anymore, she hates me."

"Dude, she doesn't hate you," he assured the rocker, putting a hand on his friends shoulder. "She just…needs time."

Charlie scowled. "I just wanna explain."

Hurley glanced down at Charlie's shaking hand then up at his red-rimmed eyes. "Dude, are you high?"

Charlie's eyes glazed over, anger setting in as he shrugged Hurley's hand away. "What? No! I can't believe you Hurley."

Charlie couldn't believe this. Why did no-one believe him? Yes he did hide a stash of those Virgin Mary statues but only because they made him feel safe, he felt alone without them. He desperately wished someone would understand but of course, he was the only ex-junkie on the island.

Hurley felt incredibly guilty. "It's just, you're all shaky and… And I heard you mumbling to yourself. You didn't hear me when I called." Hurley pointed out.

Hurley didn't understand much about drugs or drug addiction but he knew the signs and to him, Charlie looked high as a kite.

"And you, what? You just assume I'm high?" Charlie shouted, really worked up now. "I'm not okay? I haven't even touched the stuff since I quit," he paused and took a breath. "Okay yeah, I kept a stash but I haven't used… I haven't."

Hurley looked at his friend, not knowing what to say. What could he say?

Charlie dug around in his pocket for a bit before pulling out a battered old notebook. "I was writing a poem," he paused, looking deep into Hurley's eyes. "For Claire. When I'm writing, it helps to speak out loud y'know?"

Hurley shrugged.

Charlie continued. "Haven't slept, eaten for days. Just been writing, wanna make it up to her, make her understand."

It all made sense. Hurley felt so bad.

"Oh man," Hurley said apologetically, feeling really bad for not believing his friend. "Sorry dude, I didn't know."

Charlie smiled slightly, his first smile in a long time. "How could you? Nah, it's alright. Can't trust a junkie right?"

Hurley smiled back at him. Not needing to say anything.

He went forward, pulling Charlie into a hug then looked down at him, smiling still. "Dude, you need to eat. Seriously, you look anorexic."

Charlie grinned mischievously, looking down at Hurley's shoe where the mango had become a rotten disgusting mess. "Got any mango?"