AN; Yay for reviews! Thank you so much, they really do help!... also, I wanted to put in that this totally isn't all cannon, and some of the timeline stuff has been changed in order to fulfill writing space and plot time, but that I am going to try and keep it as Cannon as possible… sorry, though, if it doesn't quite match up.
Disclaimer; I regret to inform you that I own nothing but Alice/Zoey. ^.^

Friday, 24 September 2004

"A polar bear, are you sure?"

Alice pushed her way into the gathering crowd, trying to listen to what was going on. A team of survivors had come back from a hike in the interior of the island, and they were explaining what they had seen.

"Yeah, I'm sure." A man who identified himself as Sawyer stated, harshly. "I shot the bastard."

"A polar bear?" Alice asked skeptically, squinting at this 'Sawyer'.

He turned his head and frowned at her. "That's what I said, cupcake." Sawyer answered, annoyed.

Someone else in the crowd spoke up. "Where the hell did a polar bear come from?"

Dread filled her and Alice pulled back from the crowd of people, heading away from the tree line and towards the shore. She ran a shaking hand through her short hair and sighed heavily. This could not be happening.
Deep breathing was supposed to calm her nerves, but even as she kicked off her shoes and stepped into the cool ocean water, Alice could feel her heart pounding against her chest; threatening to break loose. "No. No. No." She whipped around, the water around her feet sloshing as it lapped against her ankles. Alice's eyes traced the cliffs beyond the forest, trying to remember. But it had been too long and she had never been familiar with the land that she treaded now: there was no need, Alice was never in the 'circle of trust'--never given the code to the pylons. Even if she wanted too, Alice would not be able to find her way to the barracks without a map.

Alice closed her eyes, attempting to pacify her startled psyche: this was near too much to handle. For years she had dreamed of this moment, never actually believing that she'd be able to find her way back. If only the nightmares of this place weren't real--frighteningly real--the Island might honestly be somewhere that she would happily come back to.

The sun had started to set, and though the light was upon her, she felt no warmth from it. Alice sucked in deep breaths of cold air letting it settle into her lungs like bricks. It smelt of rain and salt and masked freedom. Slowly opening her eyes, she found them resting on the group of people that had gathered at the return of the hiking group. Now, an Iraqi man was standing on a raised slab of scrap metal, allowing him leverage to speak to the assembly. He was organizing something, but Alice had strode to far to hear exactly what he had to say.

She didn't care.

There was a polar bear dead somewhere in the jungle and she knew exactly how it got there. No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew that she was wrong: no tropical islands have native polar bears. That species had been brought here--the only thing she couldn't wrap her mind around was how in the hell the bear got off of the Hydra Station.

"Nice to see you up and about."

Alice's eyes shot to Jack; he had been walking along the beach, away from the fuselage. Alice attempted a smile. "All thanks to you, doc." She indicated her broken arm by pinching the sling's extra fabric next to her paled fingers.

Jack shook his head, modestly. "No, I didn't do anything." He took a second to catch his breath as he paused beside her. He held a backpack over his shoulder, most likely full of medical supplies. Alice had seen him running around all day, trying to help as many of the injured as he could.
Jack turned to look at the crowd of people up the beach. "How come you're down here?" He asked, glancing to Alice.

Biting her lip, Alice made an executive decision not to tell him about her theories--not yet. "I, uh, just needed to get away." She feigned a laugh. "Polar bears and all. Seemed a little hard to believe, ya know?" Alice gazed at him in the dimming light; he was attractive, bright eyes and cropped hair. He was fit and quite a bit taller than her--but the sad air about him spoke of unsettled days. He had seen his fair share of the cruel side of life; that much Alice knew. And she pitied him.

He nodded, "Yeah," Jack started, "It seems surreal." He shuffled his feet, uncertain of what to say next. It was clear he hadn't planned on stopping and talking to Alice--she just happened to be in his path. "Well," he said finally, "I better get back," Jack was about to step off when he stopped. "Sayid is organizing groups to gather electronics," He gestured to the now dispersing party. "He could probably use your help."

"I'm just an biologist." Alice murmured, distracted, as Jack continued off down the beach.

15 years ago

"Ben!"

Benjamin glanced up when a semi-familiar voice called his name, and to his surprise saw the very woman that he'd run into last night. He blinked at her, feeling suddenly awkward as she came jogging over to where he was at. Ben's father, Roger, poked his head out of the bus they were loading so as to see what all the commotion was about--this did not help Ben's discomfited mood.

"Hey!" Zoey greeted, tossing him a wave and a genuine smile, coming to halt before him.

He tried to hide his confusion. "Hello." Ben didn't stop his eyes from tracing over her, for the artificial light near the playground last night had given him very little to work with. One thing was for sure though, she was much more attractive in the dark. Her hair was boyishly cropped, complimenting her oval face, leaving her cheekbones and lips to expose the truth of her gender. She was fit, but he had no doubt that she had her own set of curves; however, the dark blue uniform was unflattering on her, along with most women in the initiative. She kept it buttoned, save for the last, which exposed a grey undershirt.

Zoey placed a hand in her pocket for comfort. "Just thought I'd say hi." She told him timidly when Ben merely stared at her.

Ben gaped at her for a moment longer, something in him not understanding why she had come over to him. Then, out of mere necessity for breaking the awkward silence, he gestured to her blue uniform. "You work in the Motor Pool?"

Her eyes went down to the patch on her left shoulder, as if checking to make sure she was right. "No, uh, I'm actually over at the Hydra." She thumbed over her shoulder. "I'm working as an assistant, you know, putting dolphins on cameras--er," She quickly corrected herself, "--cameras on dolphins." A deep blush stained her white cheeks. "Nothing terribly exciting." She then suddenly regretted saying that when her eyes found the black lettering on Ben's kakki uniform beneath his name, marking him as a janitor.

Roger cocked an eyebrow as he watched the gawky conversation between his son and the newbie. Scoffing, he went back to loading the van with the boxes they were to take to the swan station. He was tempted to reproach Ben for taking time to socialize, but Roger thought better of it--maybe this girl could get chatty-kathy out of his hair for a while…

"Look, uh, I know you're busy--" Zoey started, her eyes flickering to the blue and white Volkswagen.

"DECKER!" Zoe was forced to look over her shoulder as a co-worker yelled her name and beckoned. "The boat's leaving in five!"

Zoey whipped her head back to Ben, apologetically. "Uhm," Ben continued to stare, and she couldn't help but feel awkward within it. "Lunch, sometime?" She asked, pleading with her eyes as her hand came from her pocket, palm up, gesturing to him.

"Sure." Ben answered, knowing full well that it was highly unlikely.

Regardless, her lips grew into a soft-hearted smile, and Zoey waved once more to him before jogging off to make sure that she didn't miss her shuttle for work that morning.

Ben fumbled with his own hands before turning to the boxes that still needed loading into the van. His father stepped forward to help him with a particularly large box and elbowed Ben playfully.

"I didn't know that you knew any girls." Roger teased, the corner of his mouth twitching into the witty grin that Ben had come to hate.

Ben gave him a look that could kill.

Sunday, 26 September 2004

"Oh, for fucks-sake!" Alice hissed as the faded blue tarp slipped from her grasp for the fifth time, sliding down the framed roof above her and back onto the sand. She felt like pitching a fit, right there. She felt like going two-year-old and sitting on the ground until her tent magically made itself. "I'm a god-dammed biologist," she murmured hatefully to herself, "Not a…not a…" Her lips pursed as she tried to remember the name for it.

"Camping-Guru?"

"Yes!" Alice faced the man that had spoken. "Exactly." She sighed, suddenly embarrassed that someone had seen her hissy-fit. "Sorry…" She shamefully glared down at her useless arm. "Its just that--"

"--I know what you mean." He interrupted, stepping towards her and bending down to take hold of the tarp. "Let me help ya." He was a large man, with long, curly brown hair and the start of a beard. His tattered clothes, though big enough to swallow two of Alice, were baggy even on him. "The name's Hugo."

"Alice." She answered, lending her good hand and holding a piece of the tarp in place while he bound it to one of the corner supports. "I really can't thank you enough."

A smiled touched his gentle face and he bashfully shrugged. "Hey, just helping out a fellow unlucky person."

She raised her eyebrow at that; Alice wasn't sure if Hugo was talking about before the plane crash or after…"I think we're all pretty unlucky." She told him, indifferently.

Hugo nodded, "Yeah, I guess you're right." He chuckled, tying off an end. "I'm impressed that you got this far--being gimpy and all." After it was already said, his eyes flicked to hers, unsure of whether his statement was offensive or not: It wasn't.

Alice shook her head, enjoying the momentary company, "Digging holes for the supports was pretty easy, it's knotting this on there that is difficult." Her words were augmented when she stood on her tip-toes and used her teeth to aid her fingers in tighten a tether.

They spent several minutes in silence, binding the makeshift roof and the sides, making sure that everything was going to be steady and tough. "So…" Hugo began after a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "What's your story?" He flicked his gaze to hers, only long enough to catch her attention before going back to the task at hand.

"My story?" Alice clarified, glancing at him. She wiped her forehead with the back of her head; pitching a tent from scratch had proved much harder than anticipated.

"Yeah, you said you're a biologist? That must be fun," He shrugged, "or something." He stuck out his tongue in concentration as his fingers worked on a strong knot.

Alice laughed, tugging on a piece of wire that was seconding as a wonderful tie-down. "I specialize in large marine mammals." Her hand went to push her glasses further up on her nose. "Thus my complete and utter uselessness." Alice took a step back, admiring the near finished tent.

Hugo continued to look at her, he frowned apologetically when she turned her head to regard him. "Dude, there are lots of things you can do with one hand."

Alice leaned down, plucking her backpack from the golden sand and dragged it into the tent. She ignored his comment, feeling even more useless than when she'd started out. No sooner had she turned around had Hugo retrieved the two blankets and pillow that had been divvied to her. He held them out for her to take.

"Yeah, dude, if you need anything, just holler."

She nodded, catching his gaze. "Thanks," Alice replied, gladly taking the bedding from him. "And if there's anything I can do to repay the favor, let me know, okay?" There was a part of her that just wanted to hug the man for helping her, but Alice wasn't so sure that it would have been appropriate.

He waved her off. "Naw."

Hugo sauntered off down the beach, and as Alice followed him with her eyes, before deciding to retreat into her newly fashioned tent. She went abut constructing a bed with the airplane linens, endeavoring to keep as much of the abrasive sand off as possible: she was readily becoming bitter with the fact that she had sand virtually everywhere in her clothing--it was terribly itchy.
Then, blissfully, and with an amount of enthusiasm she hadn't felt in a long time, Alice sat down on her blanket, drawing her backpack into her lap. It was amazing how good it felt to finally have a little privacy; granted, she only had three walls and no door, but Alice knew better than to complain.

The zipper to her pack was loud against the muffled voices of the community outside of her plastic walls, but it was familiar--one that allowed her much comfort and solace among the fear that constantly followed her.
Alice found what she was looking for without much effort: It was an old beat-up copy of "Through the Looking Glass" by Lewis Carroll. She cradled it against her chest, lovingly. This book was perhaps all she had left of the world she'd walked away from 12 years ago--It was the only thing he let her keep. Alice worried the dry skin on her lips, pushing her thick framed glasses further up on her nose before slipping her thumb under the cover and flipping to the first page. She carefully set it aside, her eyes tracing over the all too familiar words.

"One thing was certain, that the WHITE kitten had had nothing to do with
it:--it was the black kitten's fault entirely."

Alice grinned: reading this story was her soul food, giving her a sense of security when times were rough.

"For the white kitten had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of
an hour (and bearing it pretty well, considering); so you see that it
COULDN'T have had any hand in the mischief."

Turning away from the page, she slipped out of the uncomfortable sling around her neck, allowing her splinted arm to rest in her lap. The pain had long subsided, leaving her with only a gentle numbing--that is, when she left it alone. Alice wiggled her fingers; they were stiff, but it was improvement none-the-less.
The fabric she had created a sling from, once someone's American Eagle tee-shirt, slid easily away from her arm with an encouraging tug.
It was the first time since Alice had peered at the splints before Jack had fixed her up. The splint, fashioned out of two large twigs and three neckties, was colorful compared to her pale skin. Her forearm, though no longer darkly bruised, remained tender to the touch. Biting back her fainthearted determination, Alice tested her limits with her arm--pushing and pulling--all the while wincing in pain…She had to get better soon. She just had to. This was no place to be burdened with an injury, especially while she was outside of the pylons.

Teary-eyed, her gaze found its way back to her book--her thoughts straying to the man who had caused all of this. And though she loathed him, Alice had a hard time denying that she would be happy to see him once more. Perhaps just a glimmer--or a peek at a picture….

There had been days when it had been tempting to go home, tempting to find those letters that she had mailed so long ago--for she knew that her mother would have never thrown them away--there was a picture, one among several that she'd sent home. This one, however, was taken on a particularly sunny day while on a hike around the Island…Alice closed her eyes, remembering that day with perfect clarity.

Would he still be here? She asked herself. But more importantly, would he care that she was here?

Were her arm not broken, it would have been enticing for Alice to run into the jungle and answer her questions herself. But perhaps things would work themselves out over time. Alice nodded to herself, laying down on the shifty ground, propping her broken arm up on her stomach.
Yes. That's what she would do--lay low, keep to herself, and let everything play out as it should.

With enough patience, answers would come in their own time… Alice tried to recall where she had learned that from…