Early chapter, because I'm home sick.

Up is Down, Left is Right, View of an Old Face

Tamara peered through the telescope. "Hey Desmond, we're almost there," She called. Desmond twiddled the wheel as the boat came to shore.

"You think?" He asked sarcastically.

"No one likes a kiss ass," Tamara said cheekily, jumping down to the beach. It was night time, and the moon shone brightly, but not brightly enough to give them any idea where they were.

"Oh no," Desmond groaned.

"What?" Tamara asked fearfully.

Desmond picked up a piece of driftwood and handed it to Tamara. Tamara raised it to her eyes in order to see it properly. She swore violently as she read the lettering: S.S Black Pearl. "So, either the Pearl ended up in Fiji, or someone, said that he could navigate the goddamn boat, when truthfully, he couldn't!" Tamara was angry, and rightfully so.

"It's this bloody island! We are stuck in a bloody SNOWGLOBE!" Desmond exclaimed desperately.

"Oh sure! Blame the island for all your problems!" Tamara snarled.

"I propose we stay here for tonight. Tomorrow, we can replenish our water supply, and then we can set sail…again," Desmond said wearily.

Tamara put her hands on her hips. "Since I happen to be the only one present who hasn't gotten us lost and/or totally screwed for life, I'll be making all the decisions from now on! We shall stay here tonight. Tomorrow, we shall replenish our water supply and then we shall set sail for Russia!"

Desmond rolled his eyes, then dared to ask, "Why Russia?"

"Because, you and I are taking a trip to IHOP. And then maybe I'll hand you over to the Mafia for pure stupidity."

"I love you too," Desmond grumbled. Tamara stuck her tongue out at him.

The next day, Tamara was woken by Desmond. "We have to hurry. The hostiles will find us."

"I'm confused. We have to hurry, before the hostiles find us, or we have to hurry, and then the bloody hostiles will find us no matter what? If that's the case, then I'm not moving," Tamara declared.

Desmond solved that problem by hauling Tamara to her feet. Tamara suddenly decided to ask (after a week and a half of knowing the guy), "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Something those Dharma Initiative people wore. Their little uniform or something," Desmond said.

"Who are the Dharma initiative?"

"I don't know. They're all dead, whoever they are," Desmond said as they started their journey. That was a conversation ender.

Several hours later, and the fantastic two had still had no luck in their water search. "How hard can it be to find water on a bloody deserted island?!" Tamara demanded.

"If it's deserted, then who's that?" Desmond asked, suddenly on his guard.

"I don't see anyone," Tamara said, or began to say before Desmond covered her mouth with his hand.

Now that Tamara had been shushed, she could also hear a male voice calling desperately, "Help! Help me! Help! HEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLP!"

"Someone's in need of help," Tamara deduced wisely.

"Yeah, well, they won't be getting it from us," Desmond whispered. Tamara wasn't listening; she had wandered towards the voice, and she was calling out tentatively. The voice responded to her voice. Tamara broke into a run. Desmond followed her, cursing.

Tamara came to an abrupt halt in the middle of a clearing. There were two people caught in a net. The only one she could see clearly was a man in an orange shirt. A very BRIGHT orange shirt. "Do I want to know?" She asked, taking out the knife she kept from Desmond. She began to hastily cut the rope, but she didn't get very far, because Desmond came up behind her.

"What are you doing?" He asked. "Don't let them go!"

"What do you mean 'don't let us go'?!" A female voice demanded.

Tamara moved to get a better look at the odd couple in the net. What she saw surprised her. "Brittany?" She asked.

"Tamara?" Brittany said incredulously. "Help us."

Tamara moved to cut the rope, but Desmond grabbed her hand. "Don't! She may be your friend, but one: the man she's with is a hostile, and two: I really don't want another one of you roaming around. I'll go insane."

Tamara frowned, close to tears. Desmond didn't let go of her though, so Tamara turned back to Brittany, who was staring at her in astonishment. "I can't. I'm really sorry, but I can't. I don't know what's happened to you. You may kill us, and I prefer living. Good bye."

The two of them turned away. As they turned back at the edge of the clearing, they were faced with a shock. Brittany and the loser in the orange shirt were no longer there. Nor was the net. "What-" Desmond began.

"…The hell…" Tamara finished.

"I've told you this island was strange and dangerous. Let's go," Desmond whispered. He led Tamara away, as though he was suddenly in a great hurry. They didn't get very far however.

They were stopped by a heavy set man. "Well, what do we have here?"

"Is this a hallucination?" Tamara asked Desmond quietly.

"I don't think so," Desmond was taking the pistol out of the back of Tamara's shorts very slowly. He pointed it at the man and fired. The man yelled in pain as the bullet hit his shoulder. "Very real," Desmond confirmed.

Together, Tamara and Desmond ran as fast as they could, although they could hear gunshots behind them. Desmond obviously hadn't seriously wounded the man. They ran back to the boat. "What about water?" Tamara asked.

"We'll have to make do with our beer," Desmond said. "We still have a bit of water. We'll ration it, or something."

Tamara clambered onto the boat and made hasty preparations to leave, while Desmond pushed the boat into the water. Tamara helped him up as a group of people (including the wounded man) showed up on the beach and shot at them in vain.

Tamara and Desmond had set sail, not caring where they ended up. As long as they saw no more hallucinations, men with guns, or men in orange shirts.

Yeah, I really don't know