Hi, a short chapter whose ulterior motive is to let you know I'm still alive. Enjoy.
[FLASHBACK]
Jason, followed by a few other police officers filed onto Ajira flight 423. Sometimes, he couldn't believe his luck. The academy had seen past his anger issues and tried their best not to bring up the years he had spent institutionalised in a hospital of mental health. Now, here he was, escorting two caught fugitives back to their homeland with several of his colleagues.
Izzet Deniz Badem sat down, still in cuffs. His sister, Melek, was sat on the opposite aisle.
"Why can't I sit next to my brother?" she asked innocently to any officer who'd listen.
"Precautions," grunted one of them, "Now be silent." She looked at her feet in mock shame.
Jason closed his eyes for the take off. He was never very comfortable putting so much faith in something that wasn't human.
Izzet chuckled from nearby.
"Look at him, eh. Scared I guess." Jason kept his eyelids tightly shut and gritted his teeth, feeling pretty sure that Izzet was referring to him.
"Hey, pussy! Open your eyes man."
"Shh." Said one of the other officers semi-sternly.
"What you going to do? You're all pussies. So many of you just to escort the two of us."
The plane trembled slightly, it was now levelling out. Jason let in light once more.
"Finally." Said Izzet. "Real men fear nothing. Not even death."
Some hours later Izzet made another fuss, he wanted to go to the bathroom.
"Hold it in." said Jason coldly.
"Screw you, who do you think you are?"
"Fuck off." Jason told him quietly.
"Sorry, what was that? Say it louder…"
"I said FUCK OFF."
In a sudden whirl Jason felt gravity shift. Just then, the whole plane was loud, full of screams. And somewhere, while he was busy blacking out, there was laughter. One man was laughing- Izzet; he really wasn't scared of anything.
[Present]
Jason opened the drawer in Hurley's office and found many parchments. He began to rifle through them, looking for anything interesting or suspicious. Names. Lots and lots of names. There were so many, none of which the undercover officer recognised. He knew he would spot any familiar name straight away for he had talented eyes and a good night's sleep at the temple.
"Can I help you?" said a voice from the doorway. It was Ben.
"No, I'm fine. I just… think I dropped some paper in the uh, courtyard and wondered if it had been put away accidentally."
"What's on it?" Ben asked quickly yet un-accusingly.
"A letter… from my father- which I had on the plane."
"I'll let you know if I find it but you shouldn't be in here."
"Thanks." Said Jason, feigning a smile and rushing past Ben, out of the room.
[The Next Week]
Seven days had come and gone. Today should have been the day. Mark, Penny and Miles had stared at the time-travel chamber in Room 108 for hours but the sun was going down once again. Sawyer, Kate and Desmond had not returned. Every day at 8:15pm, one chink of orange light would find it's way through the open DHARMA doors, down the long concrete corridor, past wet rocks and stalagmites, hitting a square centimetre of steel railing near the chamber. Penny stared at it, thinking of the days where she and Desmond had watched the sunset together. She'd kept her feelings repressed for the last week. She hadn't told anyone that she felt like a part of her soul was missing.
Miles thought of Sawyer- more specifically the mission that brought them out here in the first place, finding Sawyers daughter. It seemed hopeless now. Hibbs had gone off the radar. Even if they did find him, getting Clem back wasn't going to be easy.
Mark was worried for Kate. He doubted he'd ever be over her.
The chink of light was there for no longer than five minutes. It disappeared, leaving the trio in darkness once more.
"We should head back." Said Miles sadly. Mark nodded and Penny reluctantly tore her eyes away from the chamber.
"Fine." She croaked, wiping a tear away.
John sat cross-legged by the temple healing pool, eyes closed, in a meditation position. The dusk sun from outside lay warmly against his face.
"Tell me again why I'm doing this?" He asked Hurley, who was sitting on a rock nearby.
"Because I need you to tap into your energy. I want to find out what makes you special."
"Special? At my school that's used as an insult y'know."
"Just relax. You have something that others lack. The DHARMA initiative called people like you anomalies. Here we call them candidates."
"Ah, candidates. Walt was telling me about that- don't tell me… people to replace you right?" Hurley nodded.
"Well, should I die or become unable to continue protecting the Island, a candidate will take the responsibility upon themselves. Walt is currently next in line."
"So you were a candidate once too?"
"Yes, yes I was."
"How do you choose which is the best?"
"There is no 'best'. Each candidate has their own unique traits and abilities. I want to find out what makes you tick."
"Perfect."
"Anyway, it isn't my choice to make really. It is for the candidate to decide whether they are ready."
"Are there ever two candidates that fight over the job?"
"Not that I've seen. After all, the job isn't particularly popular- it means staying on this Island for the most part of your life, growing hold and handing down the torch. A lot of people just don't want that kind of thing."
"How many candidates are there?"
"The problem is that they could be anywhere in the world. From time to time it becomes necessary to bring some together and wreck them here, but very rarely. Harrison is a candidate though. You know Walt is and now you know that you are too." John looked thoughtful.
"So is that why you crashed our plane? Because I was on it?" Hurley laughed.
"No, no. That was for my friends- they were in danger and it was the only way to save them."
"Oh. So it was just a coincidence then." Hugo shook his head.
"I don't believe in coincidence. Now, breathe in deeply and picture your childhood. What can you see?"
John breathed in, his eyes still firmly shut, as instructed, and began to describe his early years.
"I see a coffin."
"Who's in it?"
"My mother. I'm at the funeral."
"How old are you?"
"Eleven."
"How do you feel? Sad? Regretful?"
"I do feel sad. But…" he paused.
"Go on,"
"But… I'm not as sad as everyone else…"
"… And why do you think that is?"
"I- I'm not sure."
"Think hard. Why aren't you as sad as the others?"
"Because… because… she had a good life. And I feel like… perhaps, she had to die. Maybe it was so I learnt how to look after myself."
"So, you think that… it was for a reason?"
John smiled.
"Yeah, yeah maybe."
"Do you want to go deeper?" asked Hurley.
"Yes."
"Are you sure? Only say yes if you feel you can trust me."
"I trust you."
"Okay then, which other emotions are you familiar with?"
"Curiosity."
"Go on…"
"I like to explore. Solve questions, find answers. But, but I usually never get there…"
"Why not?"
"Because it feels… taboo. I feel as if questioning things is wrong."
"Would you say that this creates conflict within you?"
"It makes me… frustrated."
"When have you felt most curious John? Was there any specific time?"
"Regarding my father. His identity. He left my mother before I was born."
"And she never told you who he was?"
"No. She just said he was dead."
"Did you believe her?"
"Maybe."
"What does that mean?"
"I pretend to believe it but… there was a moment…"
"What moment?"
"I was visiting my mother about a year and a half after her death. I was coming to the grave, with fresh flowers. There were two men. A dark man, standing having a conversation with a Caucasian man in a wheelchair."
"A wheelchair?" said Hurley suspiciously. He cleared his throat. "Do you think the Caucasian was your father?"
"At the time I did… But I don't know…"
"What colour was his hair?" asked Hurley.
"What?"
"Just answer the question."
"It was four years ago!"
"Try. Just try…"
"Fine! Okay… I think… it was… Brown. Yeah brown hair."
Hurley sighed and sat back. What had he been thinking? He felt stupid now.
"Wait, no, I remember!"
"What? What do you remember?"
"Sorry I was wrong, the man… he was bald."
Hurley stared unblinkingly in silence. John, concerned, opened his eyes.
"What?" this seemed to snap Hurley out of a trance.
"I think that's quite enough for today, dude." He said.
"Really? That's it? What about my 'unique quality'?"
"Do you trust me?"
"Of course I do!"
"But we only just met the other week."
"So?"
"So that means, your unique quality… is faith." Hurley said, breaking into a proud smile. "Now please leave" he said politely.
John nodded and left, deep in thought about the session. It was almost as if Hurley knew something he didn't…
Once John had left Hurley returned to the office room and sat down at the desk.
"Faith." He repeated quietly to himself, "… Like father, like son…"
Suddenly, a knock on the door.
"Come in."
It was Ben.
"Hello Hugo…" he said casually.
"Did they get back?"
"Yes, they've just arrived but no sign of Sawyer, Kate or Desmond I'm afraid."
Hurley sighed in annoyance.
"Anyway, Ben, I need to ask a favour."
"Really? You've already run out of Shephard dust? I am not going back to the mines so soon, it's been a week since the last time and-" Hurley raised a hand to silence him.
"That's not what I'm talking about."
"Oh. What favour are you referring to then?"
"I think John may be the fourth soldier." Said Hugo. The fourth soldier was an important component for the upcoming war, and Hurley felt closer than ever to bringing out that sort of potential…
"Norwood? I had a sense about him."
"But at the moment it's just a theory. I need you to test him further."
"Why me?"
"I need to run some errands."
"What errands?"
"Ben, this Island used to be all about mystery, I don't want to ruin that." Said Hurley, half joking, half not. Ben smiled.
"What?"
"Cryptic. Sounds like the sort of thing I used to say when I was a leader."
Now Hurley smiled.
"Well, what goes around comes around I guess." Ben chuckled for a moment and shook his head.
"But seriously…" he pleaded, "Just tell me."
"… We have to even the odds." Said Hurley slowly.
"The odds will never be even." Ben replied somewhat darkly. "The scales shall remain eternally unbalanced."
"Never any harm in trying." His boss reminded him.
"… What's the plan?"
"There are cops out there. Men of the law. So what if Sawyer and Mark caused them trouble? I can talk them into joining our cause."
"And what is our cause again?"
"Isn't it obvious Ben?" Ben raised his eyebrows. "Survival."
They looked at each other.
"Fine, do it," agreed Ben. "I hope you convince them."
"That's easy, finding them is the hard part."
"I'll see you when you get back Hugo." Said the adviser with a smile.
Penny wasn't eating. She sat with Miles on the temple roof. It was a place that they, Mark and John had been using to relax in the evenings.
"Come on," encouraged Miles, "You'll starve if you don't… Desmond will be fine. He always is."
"But he could be anywhere. Or rather any time."
"Even by some cruel twist of fate you do never see him again, your son is still on the mainland waiting for you. Don't let him lose his mother."
At this Penny came to her senses and consumed the boar meat he was offering.
"Thankyou." He said. There was quiet while she ate and Miles felt awkward, unsure if he should leave or stay. "I caught that myself y'know." Penny swallowed and replied;
"I'm surprised Hugo let you out and about."
"Well… you see I'm not really-"
"-A rule type person?"
"Exactly. Anyway, this close to the temple has never really been that dangerous. There is supposedly a war going on and yet we have no fighting."
"Well we don't, I bet the other factions have been battling it out elsewhere."
"Possibly."
Penny ate some more and Miles looked around at the jungle. He was listening intently, though the chance of hearing gunfire from there was unlikely.
"When I was young," said Penny suddenly, "there was a news broadcaster I would watch with my mother. And the weather forecast was always spot on… just never at the right time."
"What do you mean?" Miles asked.
"Well for example, if sun was forecast on Monday there would be a heat wave on Thursday. If they forecast rain, thunder and lightning everyone would laugh the next day when nothing happened. But my mother and I knew that the show was always right so we would stock up and wait for the storm. And sure enough a storm would come… and we'd be the only ones ready."
"Why are you telling me about this?"
"I think you know."
He sat back and nodded slowly.
"Don't worry about me." He told her, "I'm always ready."
'The Fourth Soldier' is something you'll understand soon. In the meantime, thanks for reading. And being patient with my slow writing :)