In honor of LOST's tenth anniversary coming which is in three days, here's a short ficlet looking at the three days before flight 815.
Sydney to LA
Chapter 1: 20 September 2004
Jack looked down at the small paper in his hand and them back up, studying the dodgy surroundings around him. For a brief moment he wondered if the concierge at his father had given him the correct address. "Here you go, Mr. Shephard," the young hotel employee had said in his thick Australian accent as he scribbled on a small notepad, "that's the bar your father had been going to a lot during his stay here." Jack had taken the paper from and before he could ask, "it's a fifteen minute walk from here," the concierge added, "you can take a taxi, but in this rush hour, you're better off walking."
Jack thanked the man and made his way towards the place his father had last been seen. Jack looked around him. This certainly wasn't one the places he'd imagined the great Dr. Christian Shephard to frequent. Back home, his father only dined and drank at the finest restaurants, at members only clubs. Never anything like this. He could imagine the disdain in his father's if he ever would have talked about a place like this. He would probably name over 70 infections and diseases someone could come in contact with just driving through such a neighborhood. His father is an arrogant, condescending asshole, after all.
Too focused on studying the directions on the paper and the street signs around him, Jack was not paying much attention to what was right in front of him. Absentminded, he didn't notice the clean cut, clean shaven, suited man stepping out of the black, tinted window car.
"Hey, watch it!" the square jawed man barked at him when Jack walked right into him.
"Sorry, sorry," Jack apologized, grabbing the man's shoulder to prevent him from falling over.
"You ok, sir?" Jack heard the driver call out as he stepped out of the car. Same dark suit, same clean haircut and close shave, with dark sunglasses and an ear piece. Jack didn't fail to catch their American accents, and was quick to conclude they were government agents of some sort. What were American government agents doing in a place like this.
The man waved his driver away, signaling to him that everything was under control and to get back in the car.
Jack straightened, stepping back, "I'm really sorry," he repeated.
"Yeah, just watch where you're going, okay?" The agent said in disdain, ignoring Jack completely and turning his focus back towards the car.
Jack shook his head, contemplating for a moment whether to engage him further, quickly opting to just walk away. He had far more pressing matters to attend to.
He took a few steps down the sidewalk, turning back for the slightest moment to take one final look at the strange scene behind him - what the hell were two American government agents doing in a place like this? - but he turned around a split second too soon. A split second before Agent Edward Mars led his prisoner out, the wild haired brunette with sparkling green eyes and a sea of freckles.