"I don't care, Richard! I want them taken now!"

"I'm telling you it can't be done," he replies calmly. "We cannot move this many people in such a short amount of time."

His composed demeanor isn't calming me down. I don't understand how he can be so levelheaded at a time like this. "I said I want you to take the children and get them to the Temple right this second," I order. "Leave the rest of these people to me. I'll get them there. Now, go. I don't care if you have to sprint all night. You get the children there tonight."

Richard exchanges a quick look with Jane, gives a sharp nod, and leaves my tent.

"What would you have me do?" asks Jane.

I look up from my hands, scowling. "Bring me Juliet."

I sit cross-legged on the floor of my tent while I try to calm myself. People I care about have joined Jack's group, and therefore put themselves in danger, and there's nothing I can do about it. Juliet has completely disappeared and betrayed us all, presumably sneaking off to Jack's group in the dead of night. There is a militant group on their way to this island whose mission is to find and destroy me. I want my mother, and I can't have her. I'll never see her again.

The children have all left with Richard. If all else fails, at least they will be safe. The rest of my group has already strapped their belongings back onto the remaining animals. We are abandoning the tents to make the travel lighter, but we still have a long way to go tonight.

I'm about to start packing my own bag when an angry voice yells, "Where is Ben? Where is he?"

"What is it now?" I complain.

Mikhail hastily approaches camp wielding a rifle aimed at someone with their hands held up over their head.

I squint into the darkness until his face lights up in the flames of a nearby campfire. "Locke?"

He slowly takes one of the hands he's holding over his head in surrender and taps at his throat.

"You can't speak?" I ask him.

Locke nods.

I remember that when the Hatch exploded in the show, Locke lost his voice for some reason. I hope he doesn't ask me to make him a sweat lodge so he can trip out on jungle drugs.

Mikhail whacks Locke in the back of the head, and he falls forward without so much as a yelp.

"Leave him alone, Mikhail," I snap.

The angry Russian fixes his one good eye on me and narrows it in contempt. "And just who might you be?"

My eyebrows shoot up in pure shock. "You don't know who I am?"

"And yet you know me by name without a formal introduction," he retorts. "Benjamin, who is this girl?"

"Cora, Mikhail." Ben gestures from one of us to the other. "Mikhail, Cora."

Mikhail tilts his head to the side, studying me. "You wouldn't happen to be—"

"Yes," I interrupt. "I'm that Cora."

"You seem a little young to be that Cora."

"What is it you want, Mikhail?" Ben asks with a small sigh of annoyance.

"This man, John Locke, destroyed my station, not to mention my home." Mikhail ignores me and turns to address Ben. "I see now that you were too busy conducting an evacuation to send me assistance."

"We're going to the Temple," Ben explains. "Come with us."

"Actually," I tell Mikhail, "there's something I need you to do first."

"What sort of trick are you?" he questions, lowering the rifle and stepping around Locke's body. "I don't take orders from you."

Theon, who has been sitting quietly by my side, stands and peals back his lips to reveal his razor sharp teeth.

"Actually," I say, "you do take orders from me. And I think you should—Brandon!" The little wolf pup has barreled out from between my legs and attacks Mikhail with a series of yips. "Brandon, get back over here right now! What are you doing?"

"Cora?" comes the faint sound of a woman's voice. "Hello? I'd like to speak with you."

"What is it this time?" I seethe through clenched teeth. "Ben?" Drastically lowering my voice, I spin away from Mikhail. "I'm obviously not getting anywhere with Mikhail, but he still seems to value your input. Can you convince him to do something for me?"

"Of course," he replies.

"The Looking Glass station . . . flood it," I say. "I don't care how he does it, but I need it done as quickly as possible."

Ben's eyes flit towards something behind me. "And what about your survivor friends? The one's still inside?"

There's only so much I can do before someone has to pay the consequences. I've tried to warn them. I did my best, didn't I? It's not my fault they didn't listen. It's not my fault they swam down to that station. I may have a chance to stop the bloodshed before it even begins, and I'm going to take it. It's not my fault if they drown in the process.

Right?

I shake my head. "They had their chance to cooperate, and they made their answer very clear. I have no choice."

"Mikhail?" Ben calls. "I have a job for you."

When I make it through the hordes of people, I discover the voice calling my name belongs to Kate. Jane already has her kneeled down with her hands behind her head.

"I've already searched her for weapons," Jane tells me. "She's clear."

"What do you want?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Kate glances back at Jane and then looks at me. "I'd like to speak with you."

"I've already spoken with Jack."

"I'm not with Jack," she says.

I don't have time for this. "And why, exactly, should I waste my time on you?"

Kate's lips part, an explanation on the tip of her tongue, but she closes it instead with a look of frustration.

"Alright, look," I tell her. "We're in a hurry right now, so I'll listen to what you have to say, but you're going to have to walk and talk at the same time."

Once he group hastily gathers their important belongings, we head out.

"I don't believe what the people from the helicopter have to say," says Kate blankly.

I adjust Hurley Bird in the satchel. "Why?"

"The redhead, Charlotte? She told me they're here to rescue us. But Naomi told Jack that our plane was found at the bottom of the ocean with all the passengers inside." Kate gets too close to one of the wolves trotting beside me, and they voice their disproval. She quickly steps away. "Why would Charlotte tell us they're on a rescue mission if the world believes we're dead?"

"I've been trying to tell you that they're all liars."

"I know," she says, slumping her shoulders forward. "I'm only sorry it's taken me this long to believe you."

"I'm guessing Jack has not figured out this simple lapse in logic?"

Kate looks away, pained.

What changed Jack from the man who doted on me when my forehead was split open? Who doted on everyone's injuries after the crash? Sure he gets a little mentally unstable in season 3, but never this bad. Never this far gone. He's a smart man. Why is he acting so stupid?

I turn to Kate and study her expression. She doesn't seem to be lying, but then again, wasn't she a con artist in her formal life? "Are you asking permission to stay with us?"

"I would appreciate that," she says sheepishly.

"Then welcome aboard," I say with a grin. "Hope you like the smell of wolf."

It is midday when I first spot the camouflaged stonewall surrounding the Temple. The aged barrier is cloaked in layers of vine and overgrown trees. Tiny white blossoms sprout from the top of one of the plants hiding the sanctuary, and I have the strangest urge to pluck them and stick them in my hair. I reach out for one, but it sways just beyond my grasp.

"You always did have a weakness for the Kukui." A small Asian man with long black hair and a trimmed goatee stands near the wall. He smiles when I look up at him. "Come, come. You must get your people inside."

"My name is Cora," I explain. "I'm the new—"

"I know very well who you are. Come inside, while the wall is still of use to us."

The Temple is much like the Tardis; the outside is deceiving of its actual size. It is much, much bigger on the inside.

For as far as my eyes can see, the Temple grounds are crowded with high arched buildings—some without solid walls. Open air streams through what looks like giant gazebos made of rock. Inside the shelters, great walls of stone stand chiseled into elegant depictions of stories long past by. Everything curves and flows in a harmonious rhythm, like a stream of water down a hillside. Flowers and vines latch onto anything and everything they can grasp. All of the doorways are covered in sprawling Elvish script.

I wander off further into the grounds without being invited. A massive waterfall crashes down from the side of a mountain and pools into a glimmering pond. An elephant stands knee deep in the pool, spouting water out its trunk at a women with a gleeful, "I got you!" The woman laughs and splashes the elephant back, and the two begin a game of water war.

Swans bob around in the pond, swimming just out of reach of the water war. I listen to them honk in annoyance.

I turn to Ben and say, "Please tell me I had everything to do with this." But he looks just as curious as I do. "Have you ever been here before?" I ask.

"No," he says. "I was never invited."

Never invited?

"You all must be in need of rest," says Dogen from behind us. "I shall lead you to your old room, Cora. Follow me, please."

I follow him through one of the stone buildings, but I'm too tired to admire the craftsmanship. It took almost two full days to get here, and I haven't slept in all that time. A door opens into what I'm guessing is my room, and I don't even bother to change out of my smelly traveling clothes before falling into bed.

I'm asleep as soon as my head hits the rough canvas pillow.

This time the nightmare starts pleasantly deceiving. I'm walking alone through a field of cotton—nothing but fluffy white clumps as far as the eye can see. The day is gloriously sunny and warm and inviting. Every once in a while I'm reminded of how dangerous the razor sharp encasing of the cotton bud is, and it slices open my ankles and calves. Slowly the scratches begin to bleed, dripping bright red blood down my legs and staining the surrounding cotton buds.

I hear a howl, but I'm not immediately afraid. Behind me a wolf stands at the other side of the field, watching me. Then he breaks out into a sprint.

I squint in the heavy sunlight to try and identify who it is. When the wolf gets halfway to where I'm standing and doesn't stop, I begin to run.

I'm knocked to the floor as the wolf rips into my calves. He's speaking to me, but I've never heard his voice before. How have I never met this wolf before?

And then the snarling wolf licks my face.

I awake with a start. Brandon is propped up on my chest, lapping at my nose. "Are you alright, lady Cora?"

It takes me a second to gather my bearings. Slowly the memory of this place comes back, and I calm down. "Yes, Brandon. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"Yes," he answers bluntly. But he doesn't sound annoyed—only worried. "What's wrong?"

I rub at my eyes and sit up. "Bad dream." The room is dark, with only a flickering of light provided by a small torch mounted to the wall on the far side. I can barely make out the sleeping figures of the wolves scattered across my floor. Brandon is the only one who climbed on my bed.

"What about?" he asks.

I don't know how to answer. What am I supposed to say? I was dreaming about wolves attacking me, Brandon. You know, your own species? Yeah, apparently my subconscious is terrified of them. Sorry about that. Instead, I answer, "Things I'm afraid of. Do you dream, Brandon?"

His lifts his little wet nose up and stares me down, flopping his head from side to side. "Of course I do. I have lots of dreams about things I'm afraid of, too."

I smile and relax back into the pillows, rubbing my thumb in lazy circles behind his ear. "What do you dream about?"

"I have lots of dreams about lizards."

"Lizards?"

"Giant lizards! And they all try to attack you, so I gnaw on their legs, but that doesn't work because they have super skin, so my teeth can't break through, and then—"

"Hold on." A small chuckle escapes me. "Why are the lizards attacking me?"

Brandon cocks his head from side to side again, thinking. "Because that's what I'm afraid of."

"You're afraid that lizards will attack me?"

"And I won't be able to protect you," he answers sleepily. "I don't want them to hurt you."

My throat closes off with a horrible tearing sensation, like I've swallowed broken glass. I always wanted a dog when I was a child, and now I technically have an entire pack of them. They're such unforgivingly loyal pets. Pets. "Pets" does not do them justice. Brandon is family.

I scoop him up and pull him closer to my pillow. Brandon's wet puppy nose tickles my face as he tosses and turns to try and get comfortable. Eventually he settles in-between me and a mound of pillows, resting his head comfortably in the crook of my neck.

"I love you, Lady Cora." He says it with the sincerity of a child. A simple truth. A declaration everyone accepts without question.

Such declarations are beyond me.

I lay there for the longest time, feeling stupid, with my hand hovering over his fluffy ears. I want to say it back because I love him as well. Much the same way that I love Alex and baby Aaron and my own brother and sisters back home. I care about them, their safety, their happiness. But I cannot say it back. The words get lodged in my throat. I love you was not something my family dished out like a plate of pasta. It was almost taboo in nature. I am not accustomed to the sound of it—especially not directed at me.

This is stupid. Its just words. What's the big deal?

But as soon as I convince myself to say it, Brandon has already fallen asleep, and it is too late.