Here We Are Now: Entertain Us!

Chapter Ten

Desmond

It's been four days now since I've last seen him. In another life, four days didn't seem like much at all. Four days would pass by quicker than a day's holiday. Four days wasn't even a full work week. No. Three years ago, I certainly would have never thought that four days could seem so long.

Joining a group of plane-crash survivors a month or so after they've inhabited the land isn't as easy as it seems. By the time I got here, everyone seemed to be settled. Jack used to come along every once and a while to say hello to me, but then he brought Juliet back with him. And all that stopped.

Every now and then Charlie and I talk. Usually about things concerning him that I'd rather not write about in this notebook. It's not real talk between him and I. It's me being concerned about him and he being concerned about himself back. It's not the same as when Ewan and I talk.

Four days. I can sense there's something wrong, but I'm not sure that I should be the one to talk to him about it. After all, I'm probably just another acquaintance to him—I see him chatting with other people all of the time. Very social, he is. Nothing like me.

I failed to attend the latest performance of that band with him, Charlie, Rose and Hurley in it. I don't believe they've chosen a name for it yet. I just didn't feel like going the other night. Not that anything was keeping me—especially the Charles Dickens book that I've read three times over already.

I'm surprised he hasn't come to talk with me about it yet. I'm surprised he hasn't come to chide me for not coming; ridicule me for being antisocial and remind me of my fear of dancing. I wish he would just hurry up and head over to my tent, his face beaming with excitement after tonight's performance.

Well, I got my wish. I pretended I wasn't able to see him sulking over towards my tent with his hands shoved in his pockets. His head hung low, I couldn't tell if he was deep in thought or actually upset.

When he got closer to my tent, I closed my book and sat up. He stood before me for a few long seconds and slowly raised his head. I can't imagine what my face must've looked like but as he lifted his chin I could feel every inch of me flood with concern. I watched the tears silently stream down his face and his shaking hands try to collect them before they left his chin. I wanted so badly to embrace him then, but all I could do was stare at him, perplexed.

He was obviously thinking the same thing I was because he practically flung himself at me. It was truly the most awkward hug I've ever been in—me sitting cross-legged on the floor and him kneeling down with his arms stretched over my shoulders. I didn't know what to do other than pat him on the back as he sobbed.

I haven't the slightest as to how long we were there, but I'm sure Ewan finally felt his knees begin to ache and sat down next to me with a moan. After a while he croaked, "Desmond?"

I looked over at him. I wasn't even sure I could find my voice to reply with, I hadn't used it in so long.

"I… I'm not sure what it is that's making me feel this way, but…" his eyes darted away from mine every time they came close. "Well I… haven't been able to escape thinking about you, no matter how hard I tried. I just wish it didn't take a bloody plane crash for me to meet someone like you. You see, back home, not a whole lot of people… listen to me like you do. And I—really value—I mean…"

"What do you mean?" I leaned in closer to him, sincerly unsure of the point he was trying to make.

"I love you, Desmond." The look on his face told me that the words came out unexpectedly.

I could feel my face turn bright red as if someone was watching us. I could sense him watching me hopefully for an answer—even when I turned away. "No. No you don't," I laughed as I looked out the side of my tent.

"But I do," Ewan seemed confused as to how I could deny this.

"No," I laughed again, finding it suddenly hard to swallow. "I don't think you understand, brotha. I have a—" I turned back to him as I said this and I could see tears starting to form in his eyes again. "I have a girlfriend waiting for me back home."

Ewan couldn't seem to wrap his mind around this. "A girlfriend you haven't seen in three bloody years!" he exclaimed. We stared at each other: my eyes full of confusion, his eyes full of shock. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean that… so I guess… I guess you're not interested in… me."

The way he said it made him sound like he could barely get his mind to work straight. No pun intended. I mean, he was just, so… frazzled. I shook my head at him and answered, "I'm sorry."

"Oh," he said softly. Before I could comfort him anymore, he stood up slowly as if he was hoping for me to stop him. Then, when I didn't do anything, he hurried out of the tent and down the beach. I watched him walk along the line where the ocean meets the sand until he was out of sight. I buried my head in my hands and breathed a ragged sigh. A thousand thoughts raced through my head at a time.

Until I was interrupted. "Hey, Desmond!" a cheery English accent could be heard just outside of my tent. I jumped at the sound of it. "You missed our little show," Charlie said.

"Charlie…" I trailed off, trying to put a stopper on my thoughts and look somewhat collected.

"Why weren't you there, mate? We sang 'Let There be Love'. By Oasis. I thought you would like that." I watched with half a smile as Charlie peeked in to my tent and then sat down next to me. He set his guitar on his lap and began strumming away. "Let there be love, oh, let there be love."

"Put that away," I said. It probably came off nastier than it had sounded in my head because Charlie stared at me with wide eyes.

"I thought you liked that kind of music," Charlie said childishly.

"No… I mean yes, I like Oasis. I just don't want to hear anymore about love," I quickly got myself out of that tent and slowly strolled down to the water. I had hoped that Charlie would leave me alone, but seconds later I could hear him bounding down the beach, his guitar slapping against his back.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he said, slightly out of breath.

"What's wrong is…" I was pretty sure that Ewan didn't want me telling Charlie about what had just happened. "What's wrong is that it's hard to know when to let go of what's… back there. Back home. At any moment, our lives could resume again. We could get rescued and—oh, who am I kidding. We're never going to get bloody rescued." I sounded a bit like I was talking to myself, and in retrospect I was. But at least I was doing it calmly and didn't sound like I was on the verge of tears.

"You never know…" Charlie said softly.

"Exactly," I added quickly. "How am I supposed to know when to let go of the past if there's a chance I may never see it again?"

"Is this about the girlfriend…?" Charlie guessed.

"Yes."

"Do you miss her?"

"No—yes, but that's not what this is about."

"What's it about, then?" Charlie looked up at me. "Come on, spit it out," he chuckled.

"I…" I paused to think about my answer for a second. I looked up at the night sky and remembered the two nights I had spent doing this exact same thing, but with Ewan by my side. He was right. It was hard for me not to think about him, even when he wasn't there.

For a good few seconds I stared in to the inky scenery in front of me. Charlie, respectfully, stayed quiet. It's something about the dark that makes us feel like no one can see us or hear us. In the dark of a bedroom, lovers are willing to become more intimate. In the dark of a cinema, people shove fists of calorie-packed popcorn in to their mouths. And in the dark of the night, I told Charlie, "I think I may have feelings for someone who's… not Penny."

Yey! The first Desmond chapter! I was really having difficulty writing for him, so give me feedback as to whether or not he's in character. Oh, and what did everyone think of the season premire? I thought it was pretty good. I liked the Jack/Locke face-off at the end. And, of course, all of Desmond's lines.

-Got Scots?