DHARMA, 1974

My classroom is noisy with whispers. Susan, the girl behind me, asks Annie if she knows who our new teacher will be. Mrs. Goodspeed, our old teacher, has been missing for nine whole days. My dad says she's dead. He says the Hostiles killed her.

Annie twists around in her seat and answers, "It's one of the shipwreck survivors. The blonde woman." Annie would know. Her mother works in the school department.

"Which one?" Susan asks, leaning forward in her desk. "The tall one or the crazy one?"

Annie's eyes widen. "The crazy one."

The whispers get louder.

The door flies open, and a rabbit cage comes walking into the classroom. "YO, YO, YO, MY PEEPS!" it yells. I crane my neck and see that a woman is carrying the cage. Annie was right. It's the crazy blonde woman that was rescued from the beach three months ago.

Our new teacher sets the rabbit cage down on the teacher's desk at the front of the classroom and stares at us all. "How many of you can read Tengwar?" she asks loudly.

Annie, as always, raises her hand. "What's that?"

"There's work to be done!" The new teacher throws her arms up and turns to the chalkboard. "Alright, class. My name is Miss Collins, and I'll be replacing your old teacher indefinitely."

Annie raises her hand. "Miss Collins, what happened to Mrs. Goodspeed?"

"Mrs. Goodspeed isn't a teacher here anymore. She, uh . . . she's taking an extended vacation." I watch her write lines of pretty scribblings on the chalkboard. "Now, I want everyone to take out a piece of paper and a pencil. We're going to learn how to introduce ourselves in the written Tengwar, as well as the spoken Sindarin." Under the strange flowing marks, Miss Collins writes (Greetings, friend. My name is _.)

Annie raises her hand again. "Miss Collins, what's Send-ertin?"

"Sin-dar-in," Miss Collins sounds out, and then she claps her hands together excitedly. "Elvish!"

Visions of scary tiny people with pointy ears—who never remember to leave me Christmas presents—come to mind.

"Why are we learning Elvish?" Annie asks. "It's not a language. There's no such thing as Elves."

The class gets very, very quiet. I've never actually met Miss Collins before, but I've heard a lot about her. My dad told me he overheard the security personnel say they found her wandering around the beach near the submarine dock, trying to talk to a tree frog.

Miss Collins slowly walks through the aisles, in-between Annie's desk and mine, and kneels down, facing Annie. "What's your name?"

I can't see most of Miss Collins's face through her long blonde hair, so I can't tell what mood she's in. She smells of sunscreen and hibiscus.

Annie catches my eye, but she quickly looks back at the teacher. "Annie," she answers.

"Well then, Annie," says Miss Collins. "Thank you for volunteering to go first. Repeat after me. EH-neth neen Annie. My name is Annie."

Annie, who is never shy, suddenly seems to have stage fright. "Eh-neth . . ."

"Neen."

"Neen . . . Annie?"

Miss Collins smiles, and I can feel everyone around me relax. "That was pretty convincing, for someone who denies their existence. Are you sure you don't have Elf in your lineage?"

One by one my classmates raise their hands and beg for this bizarre instruction.

Miss Collins turns to me, and I finally see what she looks like up close. Her eyes are green, and her teeth are really white, and there's the faint sign of a dimple in her left cheek when she smiles.

I've seen her before.

"Hellllooooo?" Miss Collins is waving a hand in front of my face. I snap back to attention and shrink in my seat, listening as the class breaks out into giggles. "Are you going to tell me your name or not?"

She knows my name. I know she does because I told it to her when I first met her in the jungle—the first time I tried to run away from Dharma. She's a Hostile.

I shrink further in my seat and stare at my thumbs.

A loud siren goes off outside, and my classmates all look to Miss Collins for instruction. Miss Collins looks bored.

"Well, go on, then," she instructs. "Go huddle in the corner."

During all the other drills, Mrs. Goodspeed would try to stay calm while retrieving her rifle from under her desk. Instead, Miss Collins unlatches the cage on her desk, pulls out the panicked little white rabbit, and starts to stroke its fur to calm it down.

Annie pokes my side and whispers, "Why isn't Miss Collins getting her gun?"

I shrug, but it's a lie. I know why Miss Collins isn't worried about an attack.

It's because its her own people are the ones attacking.

Oh.

My head . . .

I crack my eyes open and find the late night sky is speckled with stars. Small little goosebumps prickle my skin. I reach up to rub at my arms in an attempt to warm myself, but my hands have been handcuffed behind my back. The night air is chilly, but the ground is even worse. No heat rises from my bed in the dirt.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize I'm in a large cage. I want to yell something inappropriate, but my speech is muffled. I've been gagged.

"It is you." A massive dark-brown bird that looks like a mix between a giant bald eagle and an oversized hawk is standing outside my cage, peering in at me with its shiny black eyes. "It has been a long time, Cora. Where have you been all these years?" The bird is so big that it cannot fit through the bars of the polar bear cage.

Hurley Bird? It's hard to tell because the real Hurley Bird had been a cheap CGI effect whose claim to fame had lasted a total of four seconds on the show. This is an actual bird. "Mpfff!" I struggle to sit upright. "Mmmph! Mppfffffff!"

Hurley Bird extends his neck and spreads his wings to ready for flight. "They are returning. I am sorry I cannot free you, my friend. I will stay close and ensure they do not harm you."

No! Don't go! "MMPPHHHHH!"

"Cora?" asks a voice. "What's wrong?"

"Mfffp?" I flop around, trying to sit up without the use of my hands.

Ben reaches my line of sight, and I'm suddenly thankful that my speech is muffled. My vocabulary is slightly less than academic at the moment.

There's the sound of keys clanking, then the rusty squeak of a hinge. Then he's kneeling down and tugging off the tie around my mouth.

"You!" I screech and try to kick him. "I just saw Hurley Bird! I just saw him, and I couldn't talk to him because you gagged me!"

"I didn't put anything in your mouth," he says defensively. "But that's precisely the reason why Isabel did. She didn't want you talking to anyone. Might I suggest," he says in a lower voice, "that you calm down. They are watching, and any acts of violence will not work in your favor."

24-hour surveillance. As if this place wasn't creepy enough. I cannot see the cameras, but I know Ben's right. I try to sit up.

"Here," Ben tosses aside the blanket he's holding, "let me help you."

"Don't you dare touch me," I threaten.

Ben recoils and has the nerve to look confused.

"When were you planning on saying something?" I ask. "Oh, by the way, you're my fiancé. Surprise!"

He blinks, seeming stunned. "Forgive me if I'm misunderstanding you, but it sounds like you're blaming me for all this." I snort, and Ben stands up. "I honestly don't believe what I'm hearing. You're still blaming me for something you did." He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "The council wanted to execute you," he whispers. "Did you know that? That's the law here."

"Then maybe you should have just let them kill me," I say through clenched teeth.

"Well," he says, sounding hurt, "I'm sorry to hear that death is a more preferable choice for you than marriage to me."

"This isn't about you, you egotistical maniac! I'm not going to marry you, or Richard, or Jacob, or a woman, or a freaking billy goat! I'm not going to marry anyone! What part of that don't you understand?"

Ben is silent, thinking. "And what do you think will happen to your friends from the beach once you're gone?" he asks. "As far as the council is concerned, they are just as much a threat to our way of life as you are. The only difference being they are an unnecessary threat. What about Sawyer? Charlie? What about Claire?"

"You leave them alone or I'll—"

"Or you'll do what?" he whispers sharply. "You'll be dead! What will it matter what you think?"

I stare him down. "You wouldn't dare."

"I told you. I'm only one person, and leader is only a title." Ben exhales and kneels back down next to me. "I understand your reluctance."

"You don't understand a damn thing," I counter.

"I do, actually."

The first thing that pops into my head is Todd told him. But it's a baseless fear, because while Todd can understand Ben, Ben cannot understand Todd. I don't know why I can't seem to remember that. "Oh, really? And what is it, exactly, that you understand?"

"Well," he starts, "unless you were lying to me all those years ago, I know quite a lot about you."

The more he tells me, the more confused I become. What on earth possessed me to tell him—as a child, no less—the horrible things that I put up with? Maybe it was because he could empathize? I mean, that's why I never told anyone, right? Nobody would get it. My friends sure wouldn't have.

I guess in a way it feels good to know somebody else—someone human—knows.

"If it will help any, don't think of it as a marriage. Just think of it as a . . . permanent friendship," he suggests.

Do not lash out. Do not lash out. Breathe. You're being watched. "Permanent friendship," I echo unenthusiastically. "Todd was right."

"Oh, for God's sake, Cora." Ben shakes his head in disapproval. "You're still listening to what he says? You are the greatest thing that ever happened to that fox. For the first time in his entire life he has a human that can understand him. I'm sure he's having the time of his life filling your head with whatever lies he can think of."

"I see you talking to him all the time."

"It's never to discuss you," Ben admits. "I made a deal with him about Alex. Whenever she's not within the community boundaries, Todd keeps an eye on her."

"And Karl?"

I catch the flash of annoyance in his expression. "And Karl. I'd just as soon send that boy off the island, but then Alex would never speak to me again."

"What about Juliet?" I ask. "Todd said you're keeping her here because of me."

Ben averts his gaze. "I . . . I admit that is the majority of the reason she is here, yes. When I was young, you were very vocal about your feelings towards children. When pregnant women started dying on the island, I brought Juliet here because I knew it's what you would have wanted."

I close my eyes and let my head slump back down against the ground. "It is my fault she's here."

"She's getting very close to finding a cure," Ben adds enthusiastically. "If she keeps up her hard work, she'll be able to go home soon."

"Why is she the one that needs to find the cure? Can't you just bring in another fertility specialist to finish her research?"

"She is the best in the world," Ben proclaims. "I would settle for nothing less. If she cannot figure it out, I highly doubt a less qualified specialist will."

I'm instantly on the defensive. "Yesterday you asked me if I want children. Is that what all of this is about?" I remember what Todd said the first time I spoke with him. He may be a pervert, but it looks like he had been right all along. "Is that what this wedding is really about? So you can have the legal freedom to knock me up whether I like it or not?"

Ben furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and then he understands my implication. "You insult me," he says quietly. The sincerity in his voice instantly dissolves my rage. Without another word, he's up and heading for the exit.

I swell with the overwhelming fear of abandonment. It's dark, and noisy, and cold, and the last thing I want is to be left alone. "Wait. Wait, Ben, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." He reaches the cage door and rests a hand on the lock. "You say you know so much about me," I say hastily. "Then you should already know I don't trust people. I have a tendency to think the worst of people. I'm sorry, It's just . . . I can't help it." For what seems like an eternity, Ben stands silently by the door, staring off into nothingness.

I feel stupid lying on the floor like this. "Can you at least help me up before you leave?"

Even before he makes a move, I know he will. He's too polite not to.

I can't help but observe him. He's wearing a pair of pressed slacks and a pale blue button-down shirt, as usual. It looks nice—clean. So much different from the men I've encountered in my lifetime—all baggy jeans and tasteless tattoos and speech all garbled with slang. It's refreshing to be pursued by someone well dressed and articulate. Even through the generous space between us, I can still smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne. I don't know what it is, but every man in the world needs to wear it.

"Okay," I say when he helps me sit upright, "I understand that what I did was really stupid and reckless and against your rules. I'm ready to accept responsibility, and if that means I have to get married . . . then so be it."

Ben nods. "I'll relate your decision to the council immediately."

"Does that mean you can take these handcuffs off? My arm is cramping."

"I'm afraid not," he answers with a sigh. "There's still going to be an official trial tomorrow morning. They cannot be removed until then."

"Can you at least handcuff them in front of me? I can't sleep like this."

"That I can do," he answers, smiling.

Once my arms aren't twisted behind me, I try to rub my hands together to warm up.

"It's a little chilly tonight, so I brought you a blanket." Ben shakes it out a few times to get the dirt off, and then he drapes it over my shoulders.

The thickness of the material instantly cuts out the cold, and I pull it close around my neck. "Thank you." This small act of kindness makes it near impossible to stay angry. I hold out my handcuffed hands. "Friends?"

Ben clasps one and shakes it.

"Where are we, exactly?" I ask, surveying the cage. In the far corner is the red button Sawyer pushed to receive a fish biscuit.

"A smaller island a little ways off the Mainland."

"Why didn't you guys have my trial on the Mainland?" I ask. "Why was I brought here?"

"I'm about to show you," Isabel's throaty voice says from behind us. "Have you finished with your little visit, Benjamin? I'd like to speak with Cora alone, please."

I don't like Isabel. She scares me. The only memory I have to base her character off of is being handcuffed and whacked in the back of the head with the butt of a gun. One might say I'm not her biggest fan. And I definitely don't feel safe being near her, not to mention being alone with her.

My hands instinctively reach for Ben's, and I whisper, "I don't want to talk to her alone."

Ben looks transfixed at our clasped hands. His eyes travel up to rest on mine. "May I stay, Isabel?" he asks.

Isabel purses her lips, and then she shrugs indifferently. "I don't see why not. You two are about to spend the rest of your lives together. What's five more minutes?"

Isabel, torch in hand, leads us through a mess of vines and brush that lead deep into the jungle. Ben walks beside me, a silent comfort.

"Do you know what Dharma originally used this island for, Cora?" Isabel asks.

"Animal experimentation?"

"Precisely," she says, not sounding particularly impressed with my knowledge. "They called it the Hydra. Dharma was particularly interested in psychological studies. That is why most of the animals on the island are known for their highly functioning brains."

I guess that explains why Todd's here.

"And do you know why we have taken your case so seriously? Do you understand why Benjamin cannot simply throw your trial out? Usually leaders have final say on a verdict, but you are a special case." Isabel stops walking at last and turns to look at me. The flames of her torch flicker across her face and cast eerie shadows. "Do you know why?"

"No," I answer.

"This is why." Isabel nods for me to walk forward. "This is what you are capable of."

We're standing at the edge of a deep hole. Tossed inside, piled up high, are the skeletal remains of dozens upon dozens of Hydra workers.