"Lost and found"

A Lost fan-fic/significantly Alternate Universe (set mainly at the end of season 4 just after Ben Linus "moves" the Island; ignores much of Seasons 5 and 6 for now, but this may change when I finally get to watch these episodes)

A/N: John Locke-centric, and I do not own any rights to these "Lost" characters and stories. I am using a timeline of my own design that runs "flash-forward-normal" from 2004 to the present.

Summary: Locke finds a young castaway on the beach. Who is this boy, and why does he seem so strangely familiar to John Locke?

Category: General/Family

Rating: T

Chapter 4/?

Home sweet home

For the rest of the week at the cabin, John and David fell into a routine: breakfast; cleaning up the kitchen; morning hike (sometimes all the way out to the shoreline); lunch if they got hungry; relaxing in the afternoon to stay out of the heat of the day; dinner; backgammon; and, talking story until they were ready to go to sleep. It didn't take long at all for Locke to learn that his son was an excellent swimmer, sometimes more at home in the water than on land. David found two-thirds of a broken surfboard washed up on the beach and spent the better part of three of their trips to the coast body surfing through the crashing waves. It was the front two-thirds of an old yellow Maui Nix surfboard, which meant no tailfins, and this suited the boy just fine.

"You're like a little tropical fish, David," John observed when the boy came up to the shade to rest; he'd spent the last solid hour in the ocean and now his chin dripped sea water down his chest. "When did you learn how to swim so well?"

David eased the surfboard-now-boogie board to the sand, and grabbed his water bottle before he sat down. "I'm not sure. I think I started lessons at the Y that summer right after my mom died." He paused to drink from the plastic liter bottle that Locke insisted he keep with him. David dug his toes in the sand, looking over John's left arm at the walking stick he was carving.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we were still in California, um Oceanside. What are you making?"

Locke smiled, holding up the end of the nearly straightened staff. "I just felt like crafting something today… that's supposed to be a sea turtle right there."

"Cool, it sure looks like a tiny one to me," said David. He reached back and rubbed water off of his left shoulder. "Am I still peeling from my sunburn?"

"Hardly at all," John replied, looking at the slender child's tanned and rather bony back; a twinge of paternal worry followed but he knew that healthy food and plenty of rest would be very good for the boy. "You getting hungry yet? I think the boar meat will be good to go tonight since it's been seasoning for two days."

"Yes, sir," David agreed, shrugging into a long-sleeved t-shirt. "What does boar meat taste like? I don't think I've ever had it before."

Locke cleaned his knife off by running it carefully down his trouser leg and then returned it to the sheath he kept on his belt. "Do you like pork chops, or maybe pork roast is a better example? It's like that only more gamey, I guess is the best way to describe it."

"Oh, okay. I have eaten that; it was pretty good." David rolled over on his stomach and propped his fist on his cheek. "So what else did you do, John? Your jobs before here on the Island, I mean." Locke chuckled since it seemed that the boy was continuing the conversation right where they'd paused before he went surfing again.

"Well, this other company I was with made industrial cardboard, like cardboard boxes," he said, unintentionally recalling his inconsiderate idiot of a boss, Randy Nations. "And I worked in the main office, mostly a desk job; collections and things like that, up on their third floor."

David grimaced a little. "The home inspection job sounded more interesting; at least you got to go outside a lot with that one. I wouldn't like being at an office where I'd have to stay indoors all day."

John shrugged, giving the boy a conspiratorial wink. "True, but boxes are big business, kiddo. You'd be surprised how big." He chuckled, all the while thinking to himself… And I wasn't in a wheelchair back then, either.

The boy held up some of his reddish-gold hair from his forehead. At David's (polite) insistence, Locke had made rough cut that morning with his hunting knife, hoping that Deborah, Cindy or one of the others back at the compound could tidy it up the haircut when they got there in the next day or so. "You could be a barber, or maybe even a teacher."

Locke shook his head, raising his eyebrows toward his own tanned scalp; he smiled when he realized that David was teasing him. "Not too many bald barbers, are there?" David snickered, taking another swallow from his water bottle. "But a teacher, huh?"

"Sure, why not? You're teaching me all kinds of neat stuff already, like backgammon, cooking, making a fire and fishing," David replied, ticking off items with his fingers. "I'm not sure I'll get the hang of knife throwing, though. That's hard."

"It just takes practice, Dave," John assured him, pleased by the show of support from his young son, even if the boy didn't know it. "Give yourself time." He wiped his hands on his pants leg, setting the carving off to one side. "Are you ready to saddle up and head back?"

David hopped to his feet, brushing the loose sand from his knees and shirtsleeves. "Yes, sir." He picked up the broken fiberglass surfboard and slid it under some nearby shrubs for safekeeping at the beach, then shouldered his backpack. Maintaining his balance, he tucked his bare feet into the mismatched pair of sneakers: one was his dirty white one, while the other was a faded blue-gray.

Locke laughed quietly. "We'll have to keep hunting around for a pair of boots or something for you to wear. Things wash up here all the time from the cargo ships," he said, gesturing out towards the Pacific Ocean.

David let out a giggle, gathering up the rather large fresh coconut he'd collected that day at the beach. "No rush. I bet there's another pair of kicks just like this one out on the ocean somewhere, and another guy totally wishing he had this blue shoe."

John ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Funny kid." He shouldered his own backpack and took up the walking stick he'd been working on. "After you, young sir."

As the pair faded into the jungle on their way back to John Locke's cabin, an unseen watcher on the hillside above gave a nod and smiled, pleased to see the closeness that was growing between father and son. The man seemed young, but in truth, he had been on the Island for more than two thousand years, born to a shipwrecked mother who later died. Good, he thought, a youthful and happy image of his fraternal twin brother in his mind. We all need them both here." The happy memories that he and his brother shared were no more, gone for many centuries.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Three paces ahead of him on the muddy path, David stumbled on a tree root, just barely catching his footing before he fell. Mentally chiding himself, John suggested that they stop for a rest. They had been hiking through the jungle all day, leaving his cabin just after breakfast that morning. The trail had begun to rise and the man knew the hike across the hilly meadow would be challenging near sunset, especially if they were tired and inattentive.

"Let's pull over here for a bit, Dave," Locke said, shrugging off his backpack. "No need to rush around and get hurt. We'll get home just after dark."

David smiled a bit wearily as he, too, removed his backpack and sat on a nearby moss-covered rock. "Okay. How big is the Island anyway, John? You weren't kidding when you said it would take us all day." He pulled his smaller water bottle from the side pocket and drank thirstily. His hair was matted down with sweat and humidity, and one cheek had a smear of mud across it.

Locke sat on a thick log on the ground, with his open knapsack between his legs. He pulled a bunch of bananas from it, passing a few to the boy to eat. "Size-wise, I'm not sure since I don't think it's been accurately mapped. It is pretty big though, tropical rain forest obviously, and I think it once had some active volcanoes… but that was a really long time ago. The houses are down on the southern end, but there are little camps scattered around that some of us visit from time to time."

The boy drank deeply again from his water bottle, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of roasted boar meat that they had saved from their dinner the night before. "Like your cabin? Did you build it?" He finished two of the bananas, tossing their peels into the underbrush and leaned back against the tree trunk right behind him, heaving a contented sigh.

"Mm, no not me, but I added to it… and fixed it up a bit when I got here." For some reason, John thought of the people who had come with the Dharma Initiative; they had constructed many things, including their research stations on the Island when they arrived, but then, so had the other inhabitants over the course of centuries.

"It was a bit of a fixer-upper project when I…" Locke's voice trailed off when he noticed that David had fallen peacefully asleep at the base of the tree. His arms were crossed on his chest, his breathing deep and even. John chuckled softly. "Good idea, son." Still chuckling, he moved his backpack behind his head to use as a pillow, and stretched out on the jungle floor for a short catnap.

-/-/-/-/-/-

"Was that a volcano over there? It looks exactly like Hawaii, or at least part of Diamond Head or Koko Head or one of those places on Oahu," the boy commented, reaching his arm across Locke's broad shoulder.

"Hm, which one do you mean?" John looked to where David was pointing, up ahead of them. The grassy hillside had a beautiful panoramic view of a line of rocky cliffs, some of them covered with thick greenery that tumbled down toward the ocean.

"Could be. There is a rocky beach way over on the other side covered with old lava flows," John replied, glancing around at the child on his back. "We'll hike over there sometime if you like."

"Yes, that would be neat," said David. "I like volcanoes almost as much as I like the ocean." He was riding piggyback on the tall man; John had shifted his own knapsack around to his chest to make room for his young passenger.

It made for a heartwarming scene: David still wore his backpack and Locke still carried his newly carved walking stick. With John carrying the boy, it left David's hands free to point and ask as many questions as he could think of. Even though his legs and back ached from the long walk across the Island, Locke was happier than he'd ever known he could be. Many times growing up in foster care in California, he had seen dads carrying their children at school or at the playground, and he couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy. John could not see David's face, but he could tell from the tone of his voice that he was enjoying the ride too.

He walked for another half mile or so before he stopped to let David down. "Okay, keep your eyes peeled to the west," John instructed, gesturing to their right with a water bottle in his hand; he shifted his backpack around and tightened the chest strap to be more comfortable. The sun was just beginning to set and they had about another hour or so of daylight.

David grinned and his eyes glowed with reflected sunlight. "Yes, sir. What is it?" He knelt to re-tie one shoe, and closed the zipper of his backpack where it had come undone on the coconut husk.

John handed the boy an unlit torch, keeping one for himself. "You keep looking. It'll be a neat surprise," he answered, smiling. "We'll light these in a bit, alright? I don't want to ruin your night vision just yet."

The boy nodded, bringing his hand to his forehead as he shaded his eyes. They walked another five minutes and came to the crest of the grassy hill. As long as he'd been on the Island, it was a sight Locke never grew tired of.

"Houses!" David exclaimed, beaming up at the older man. "I see yellow houses, John!"

TBC