Disclaimer:

I do not own Lost or any of the brilliant fictional characters from the show. I do however own my two characters of Eric and Genevieve Mendez.

Walkabout

That night Genevieve couldn't acquire much sleep. Her mind was buzzing wildly with different thoughts; mainly her angel and devil versions of herself fighting each other. For years the woman was Genevieve – the calm, collective and understanding person so many knew. However, it had taken even longer for the woman to become that way. Anyone that truly knew her would know Gen had a rough past – a past that caused her to become someone she never wanted to be again. However, there was one person in particular on the island that was brewing the old Genevieve; Sawyer.

Normally she wouldn't give a second thought to such a lowlife scumbag like that, however he knew just the right words to say to push her buttons. The right words, the right facial expressions – the right everything to make her want to continue to punch his face in.

Hearing the loud sound of a dog barking, Genevieve sat up in her sleeping bag quiet to not wake up Claire. However as she looked to her side, the blonde was nowhere to be seen. Quickly Gen rose and exited her tent, seeing most of the survivors huddled around the entrance of the fuselage. Small camp fires occupied the beach, creating the only illumination for the night as Genevieve walked beside Jack. Inside the fuselage came a low growl and rustling as if someone was inside the makeshift cemetery. As the other survivors whispered to each other, guessing what it could possibly be, Jack spoke under his breath, blaming Sawyer for the disturbance.

"Standing right behind you, jackass." Jack turned to look back over his shoulder to, indeed, find Sawyer standing there. A small smirk form along Gen's lips as her gaze stayed inside the plane. Rattling continued as Jack took out his pen-light, walking toward to commotion. Kate called after the man while Sawyer trailed along behind him. Just the mere scent Sawyer radiated irritated the woman, causing her to take a few steps back away from the linger cologne.

The two men bravely walked up to the opening of the ruined fuselage, Kate and Charlie following close behind them. Genevieve happily stayed back, finding Claire standing with Sayid. Like a protective mother, Gen placed an arm around Claire, holding her against her petite body. If something were to happen, Gen wanted to make sure both Claire and the baby would be okay. The group of survivors watched as those who were brave enough investigated the noise; closer and closer they walked. However, as Sawyer stupidly beamed his light inside the fuselage, whatever was creating fear throughout the group scurried out; wild boars.

All the survivors ran away from the boars, finding shelter within the camp and the debris from the plane. Genevieve gripped tightly on Claire, pushing the blonde behind her, shielding her from the potential threat. Once the animals were out of the camp and back into the forest, Gen looked to Jack who was staring back at her – worried. "Claire, go with Hugo; I'll be back."

-X- -X- -X-

Inside the infirmary tent, Jack was dressed Charlie's wounds as Kate, Sayid and Genevieve stood around. As he was working on the cut, Jack addressed the elephant in the room, claiming they needed to somehow get rid of the bodies. This Genevieve agreed with and had already thought it was due time to do so. But Charlie was right; there were at least twenty bodies inside the fuselage; burying all of them would be a hassle. "We burn them," Genevieve spoke, her voiced opinion obviously being criticized by Kate and Sayid. Rolling her eyes to the other woman, Gen folded her arms, inquiring what the problem was. "I know they're people, Kate…"

"Burning the remains…they deserve better than-" Sayid interrupted.

"Than what?" Jack voiced receiving a glare from Kate. "Getting eaten by wild animals? 'Cause that's what's gonna happen. Any bodies we bury won't stay buried for long." Letting out a sigh, Jack rose to his feet and walked to the side of Genevieve – the only person that seemed to view things the way he did. "I know it seems harsh but that fuselage, in the sun…it's not about what they deserve."

"They're gone and we're not," Genevieve finished for him, keeping her gaze down to the ground. Sayid continued to speak, voicing his opinion on the matter. However, as the small group continued speaking, Genevieve walked over to Charlie, taking one last look at his wound. Beckoning Jack over, she pointed out a few more spots needing to be cleaned before she stood straight. As the woman placed her hands into her back pockets, Genevieve decided it was her time to leave.

She missed her home. She missed her bed. She missed watching re-runs of the Golden Girls and Will & Grace whenever she couldn't sleep. She missed being able to go to the gym in the morning and run to Charmed on TNT. She missed ice cream, she missed chicken. She even missed the disgusting smell of gasoline when pumping gas into her car. What she missed the most was her husband. Making her way down to the beach, where she would normally see the older dark-skinned woman, Genevieve decided she no longer wanted to sleep.

They were stuck on an island, why was she sleeping? If anything the woman should be trying to come up with a way to get off the island. She should be coming up with a way to find her husband.

Her mind continued to race with a bunch of different thoughts and emotions, long enough it didn't click in her mind that the sun was rising. A painting of yellows and oranges littered the sky, the beautiful ocean coating of mysterious dark red. It was a sight the woman had never seen before and was surprised she was only seeing it now after how many days they were on the island. Gripping her wedding ring which was hanging from her necklace, Genevieve kissed it before getting to her feet and making her way to the others.

Jack, a bandana around his neck, was standing supervising as various other huddled wood and brush. Thankfully taking Michael's delivery, he passed it on to a chain of two other men inside the cabin who were also wearing cloth around their faces to prevent any types of diseases entering their bodies; but largely to avoid the smell of rotting flesh. Waiting for the next set of wood to be brought in, Jack's eyes scanned the beach to find a small gathering of four or five castaways mingling within each other, occasionally peering over to the fuselage. Among them was Claire, who continued to look at Jack before crossing over to him.

"Excuse me Doctor," she spoke, her timid voice barely scraping above the sound of the waves hitting the beach.

"Jack," he confirmed, pulling his bandana down. "Claire, right? You're the one Genevieve keeps huddling around to make sure the baby is okay." Many others noticed Genevieve's behavior around Claire, and Jack was one of them. "How' the..?" he asked, pointing toward her stomach.

"Good, he's good," Claire answered as a small smile forming as her hand rubbed over her protruding stomach. "Genevieve is actually who I came to you to talk about." Jack raised a brow to her words, worry automatically beginning to form. "I think maybe you should see this." She handed the doctor a few folded, partially singed papers. "Somebody found it in there. We're collecting belongings and they came across this." The pages contained hand written notes accompanied by color photographs of a happy couple, lovely bridal gown, a luxurious beach resort, floral arrangements and more. However the one main thing that caught Jack's attention was the smiling face of Genevieve. Almost unrecognizable, Jack wondered what had happened to the young looking, free-spirited woman he was looking at.

Jack quickly returned the pages to the woman, awkward under the weight of the raw emotion he was beginning to brew. "Since you probably see her more than I do, how you about give those to her."

"Actually, I was going to ask if you could since me and a couple of people are still going through the belongings. Plus she didn't come back to the tent last night and …"

"She what?" Jack asked, wide eyed.

"She didn't come back to the tent last night." Jack slowly backed away, scanning the survivors for Gen's familiar face. "I assumed she was with you since…you guys seem to be getting cozy." The last part wasn't audible to the man since we was forcing his legs to continue moving.

The rest of the survivors seemed to be making a dent into the new day, immediately getting to work on their previous chores. Within the middle of the group were two bodies fighting with each other; what looked to Genevieve as Hugo and the unlikable redneck. Raising a brow, the woman made it just in time as the others joined the two – finding out the lack of food for them. Immediately Genevieve thought of the boars; if they weren't able to eat whatever the fuselage had for them, the next step would be to hunt the animals on the island. And this was something that was made very clear by the bald-headed man after he threw and successful stuck a knife into the cushion of the airplane seat next to Sawyer.

All eyes from the survivors followed the trail of the knife to Locke, wide and filled with puzzle. As the fact slowly began to sink in, Gen could see hesitation and fear settle among the group. But just as anyone was able to say anything, Kate stepped forward.

"How were you able to get that knife on the plane?" she asked, her voice full of suspicion. The man's eyes locked with hers for a moment before he answered. As two man spoke, Jack pulled the knife out from the seat. Secretly, Gen wished Jack would keep the knife; it would be good to have in times of crisis. However Jack graciously handed the knife back to the man, sizing him up for the first time. Genevieve followed Jack's footsteps, trying to get a read on him. Normally it would be fairly easy for the woman to do so – what with her profession and all – but as he stood there speaking with Jack and describing wild boar, Genevieve couldn't make anything stick.

Who was this guy?

-X- -X- -X-

As much as Jack pleaded Genevieve to accompany those leaving to hunt, the woman decided she would stay back during this trek. Hunting wasn't one of her strong suits; in fact she had never hunted a day in her life. It wasn't something that had caught her attention to kill an innocent, un-expecting animal just for the sake of game or eating it. And sure, one could argue that the boars were beginning to enter their only residence of survival, but they were the ones new to the island; probably on their land. So instead, Genevieve decided to take a day on the beach and try to easy her mind, maybe even relax.

While the rest of the survivors continued to sort through the belongings in the fuselage, Genevieve took a seat on the airplane seats set specifically for looking out to the ocean. Taking in a deep breath, the woman closed her eyes to enjoy the sound of her surroundings. As she zoned her ears to listen into the waves hitting the ocean, a smile grew on her face. It was as if she never left the beach beside her Australian honeymoon, Eric just a few feet away. A margarita in one hand and a paper fan in the other, Genevieve could still smell the berries in her drink.

"Gen." A sigh escaped her lips as her eyes were forced open to see Jack hovering over her; his body blocking the sun's rays from hitting her body. Raising a brow to him, the woman pleaded so he wouldn't try and beg for her assistance during the trek. But instead, Jack surprised her with a shake of his head, claiming that wasn't the reason why he was there. "Actually, I came over to give this to you." Looking to his hands, Genevieve noticed a very familiar scrapbook. With a slight tilt to the head and her eyes widened, Genevieve reached for the book, her breathing stopped. "Claire found it and thought it best I gave it to you." In her lap stared back a picture of Eric and herself, smiling as he carried her bridal-style out from the church they had gotten married at. "He was a lucky guy." And with that, Jack left her to continue going through the fuselage.

A silent tear fell upon her cheek as her hand went to open the book. But just as her eyes fell on the first picture, she heard a loud yell.

"Watch out!" Her eyes snapped open just in time to see a large golden retriever barreling toward her. Opening her arms toward the dog, the woman happily embraced the overzealous dog while he licked her face and wagged his tail. Laughter escaped from her throat – the first in a few days – as the owner run toward her. "I'm sorry, sometimes he's too strong for me to hold him."

"Oh, that's perfectly all right. I love dogs," Gen responded, a smile still plastered on her face. Petting the dog, she couldn't help but feel her heart melt. "What's his name?"

"Vincent," the owner answered with a goofy smile. "And I'm Walt."

"Yeah, you're Michael's kid right?" she inquired, her eyes averting back and forth to the canine and the boy. "You're not really good at listening to him are you?" There had been many times when Michael would stagger up to the woman, asking if she had seen his son. However, each time the woman failed to keep her eyes open to what was around her long enough to notice what someone was doing even a few yards away.

"He's my dad, but he's never been there for me." This saddened Genevieve; she knew what it was like to have an absentee father.

"I know how that's like," she informed him, pulling herself back up to the chair. Patting the seat next to her, Gen beckoned for the child to sit next to him. "Not to bore you with a story from an adult; not like you really have anything else to do around here, but my father was basically in and out of my life for twelve years. While he was with my mother and me, he was abusive; always drinking, always doing drugs. He was like a ticking time bomb. Any little thing would set him off. There were many times where I'd do something wrong or my mother would and his instant reaction would be to beat us." Walt's eyes widened with a hint of thankfulness in his expression.

Genevieve continued to tell the intrigued boy her story; the story of her childhood and the hardships she had to endure with her family – or rather lack thereof. But it wasn't all for nothing; there was a point. The fact that his father was trying to have a relationship with him now was a blessing, not a curse. Many children do not have the luxury of having a father around.

-X- -X- -X-

Looking down to her still functioning watch, a habit the woman seemed to have contracted after a few days on the island, she couldn't help but sigh. It seemed time was limitless on the prison as it moved slowly. The hot sun almost made surviving unbearable, but the soft ocean breeze felt as if someone was stroking the hair from her face. She leaned back against her arms on the beach, watching while the other survivors lived their lives as best as they could; it was quite amusing. Because of her strong love for people watching, Gen had begun analyzing the actions of the others; or that could have been her Master's in Psychology, either way, she could still sense everyone was jumpy from the recent events. But there was one person Genevieve was mostly interested in; Rose. The older woman's situation was much similar to her own; their husbands were missing. The only difference between them was Genevieve's strength to help the manifest while Rose continued to sit by the water, staring to the horizon.

Gen did feel sorry for her, but knew if she did absolutely nothing, the knowledge of knowing her husband was somewhere lost on the island or dead would cause her to go insane.

"People watching again?" Genevieve jumped from the voice being so close but tried to hide it by leaning forward, resting her chin against her knees. Seeing the Jack standing behind her, an amuse smirk running along his lips, her heart slowed to its normal rate while she gave a smile.

"I told you, it's a hobby," she answered with a shrug, turning back. It didn't take long for Genevieve's eyes to find Sawyer sitting in his makeshift home, his eyes following along to the book he had occupying his hands. Tilting her head, the woman watched while his lips slightly moved along and his eyes squinted. Glasses, she thought. It probably would come to a shock to the man if she waltzed up to him and declared he needed glasses. Then she would have to admit she was watching him from a distance. And as if she didn't feel like a stalker enough, that was the last thing she needed.

My eyes fluttered open as I stretched across the soft king sized bed. Memories of the previous night filled my mind as I held the blanket to my chest while I sat up. The room was empty, but his clothes were still lying on the floor. A bit confused, I listened to my surroundings; shower going off. Letting my legs fall from the edge of the bed, I got to my feet. Walking over to the bathroom door, I listened in, hearing him singing; I rolled my eyes as I shook my head. Quietly opening the door, I let the blanket fall to the floor as I jumped in the shower with him. "Good morning Mrs. Mendez." A gleaming smile rose from my lips, hearing my new name.

"Good morning Mr. Mendez," I greeted back, running my hands down his back. Eric Mendez, my husband, knew how to treat a women and how to make her feel beautiful. We had been together for almost three years, meeting at a movie theater. I was supposed to have met someone else that night, but instead, Eric was the one who randomly showed up and offered me a movie then dinner; I accepted. Since then, we've been a happy couple.

Bringing me back from my thoughts, Eric switched places with me in the shower, having the water now hit me. The warm liquid washing over my body was like a sip of rum for an alcoholic; simply refreshing. It felt as if all my troubles and worries melted away. "I gotta get out," he said, grabbing his towel, wiping it over his face. Nodding, I continued my hot shower in peace, listening to the sounds of the water hitting my skin.

Staring out to the water, Genevieve snapped back into reality when the doctor sat next to her, joining the watch. Nothing was said at first, but then of course, Genevieve wasn't really one to initiate conversations first. Jack, on the other hand, had other plans and continuously intended to carry on conversations with her for reasons she wasn't quite sure of.

Without looking at the doctor, Gen sighed. "Let her keep her hope," she insisted. "Rose," Genevieve clarified, "Let her keep believing her husband is alive."

"Why? The chances of Bernard being alive are one to seventeen thousand." Jack spoke with such authority it almost made her sick. Though the woman was familiar with his kind of personality, it still brought a slight discomfort to her soul knowing it was he who was the unofficial leader of the group. It also took a hit to her personally since he knew about her own husband.

"And the chances of us getting rescued are one in a million at this point. Yet, you still want the survivors to keep that hope." Genevieve finally looked to the doctor, analyzing his body language – trying hard to decipher why Jack felt the need to be an authoritative figure on the island.

"That's different."

"Is it Jack? We all need something to believe in; don't take that away from her." The two stared at each other for what seemed like hours until Jack finally looked away, giving his attention to the Rose. Genevieve leaned forward to see what took his attention away, seeing the older woman still staring out into the horizon. "Go talk to her, give her some water – I don't know maybe she'll crack for you?" Nodding, Jack thanked Genevieve nd began making his way over to Rose. Feeling a little accomplished, the woman resumed her extracurricular activity and continued looking around to the survivors only to notice Sawyer approaching her. Rolling her eyes, Genevieve rose to her feet and began walking the other direction.

"Wait Maria." Quickly stopping, the woman whipped around.

"Stop calling me Maria. Just because I'm Hispanic does not mean that's my name."

"Unless you want your new name to be sexy Latina fire, I'd say deal with it." Still glaring at him, Gen folded my arms across her chest, raising a brow. "Fine," he gave in. "You're a psychologist, right?"

"Who wants to know?" she asked, getting a little more irritated by the fact that it had probably been Jack that spread that fact to the other survivors.

"I do."

"Why?" Moving her hands from her chest to her hips, he could tell she was getting impatient.

"'Cause maybe I need some counseling." Everything in her told the woman to just turn around and walk away, but instead an involuntary laugh escaped her throat.

"The first step is acceptance Sawyer, but I do believe you're far beyond help." Rolling her eyes, she turned again and continued walking.

"Come on Maria, I really need to talk!"

"Talk to a rock!" Gen yelled back. "That might be the only thing that would actually care." Some might have found it harsh for the woman, especially since she did spend a good chunk of her previous years sitting down and listening to victims of all ages – helping them in every way she possibly could. But there was one thing she would never admit to the other survivors, and that was her strange fascination with the redneck.

Genevieve wasn't sure what had brought her there, but she knew there had to be a reason why she was sitting on the other side of Rose. The woman had just finished telling the older one about her own husband and how Eric was also lost somewhere out on the island or dead. Pain had begun coursing through her veins, a pain that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"His fingers swell." Both Gen and Jack exchanged glances, surprised Rose had finally said something. "Bernard. My husband. His hands swell up when we fly. He started having me hold onto his wedding ring whenever we took a plane trip; always wore it around my neck for safe keeping. Just until we landed, you see..." Rose finally looked away from the ocean waves and to Jack, her expression hopeful. "Y'know doctor, you don't need to keep your promise."

"Promise?"

"The one you made to me on the plane. To keep me company until my husband got back from the restroom." Rose smiled at him, a light glint of happiness. "I'm letting you off the hook." Genevieve smiled too; it was good to know there was still kindness inside the doctor. True kindness, not forced like he had been exerting all this time on the island.

-X- -X- -X-

Dusk had quickly come, a sign for the survivors to begin filling the beach as unison. After Genevieve left Rose and Jack conversing, the woman went to find her own friend, Claire. Sitting on a blanket, the two friends organized the various licenses, passports, pictures and other documents when five more wallets were suddenly tossed into the pile. The women looked up to find Sawyer standing over them.

"These were…uh – found these the other day when I was…" Sighing, Sawyer shook his head and shrugged. "Ah, hell. Just take 'em." Claire politely thanked him before grabbing the new wallets. As Sawyer began walking away from them, Genevieve excused herself and rushed to join him. Calling his name, she was shocked to see he had immediately turned. Stopping in her tracks, Gen looked up to him – his deep blue eyes staring down at her with a hint of anger bursting from them.

"Look, I just want to apologize for how I was earlier," she began. Sawyer went to stop her, but Genevieve silenced him. "I have all the excuses in the world to deny you an ear to talk to or a shoulder to lean on and I told all of them to myself before I ever stopped to think that you might be an asshole for an actual reason." The man let out a soft chuckle at her words, his expression softening. "So…I guess I'm saying that whenever you do need someone to talk to, my schedule is un-expectedly wide open."

"Gee thanks Fire," Sawyer spoke with a nod before he continued walking to his makeshift tent. Fire, Genevieve thought, liking that nickname so much better than any others he had previously said. Making her way back to Claire, she received a look from the blonde. Returning a glare, Genevieve helped Claire on her feet to prepare for the tribute. The duo walked over to where Hugo had set luggage high enough to use as a table top; Hugo already waiting with Boone accompanying him with a torch. The larger man happily handed Claire a few papers he had found as a handful of group members set the fuselage on fire. Smoke and fiery embers rose up against the night sky as Claire began reading the names for their dead fellow passengers.

It was a memoir collected of just the week past; pictures and letters the two wrote for each other for future years whenever they'd have a fight. But as Genevieve held onto it behind her back, a silent tear fell as she took a step forward. "Eric Mendez. Thirty-three years old; a doctorate in the Astro Physics field. A wonderful son, a beautiful husband and an even greater human being. We were in love and were newlyweds. And at least wherever he is now, he's keeping my mother company." A hand rested on her shoulder as she spoke, Hugo doing his best to comfort a friend in need. Genevieve felt his hand fall back to his side as she stepped forward, throwing her scrapbook into the burning flames.

From a distance she could see Sawyer's eyes staring back at her; the blue gleaming with the hot fire. Her stare didn't falter although she could see the mimicked pain in his own eyes. And while the two continued staring, distantly comforting each other, Jack watched closely at a distance.